Greek Justice


  “It’s not right,” Persephone says, rubbing hard at her eyes as if she could force the morning blur out of them.
  “What’s that, Seph?” Ix asks without taking his eyes off the road.
  “Being concious at this ungodly hour. Even Apollo hasn’t shown his smug little face.”
  She was right. The sun was resting netherside in its golden pouch, the deity’s tardiness evident in the blacks that engulfed the sky.
  “Buck up,” says Ix, pulling on the reigns so to impede the steeds bid for takeoff. The required low profile demanded a road trip. “We’ll be there shortly. Get ready”


~ by Joseph Blame on January 20, 2011.

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