Humor
My Big, Crazy, Norse Myth Wedding. Content Warning.
Who doesn't love Norse mythology? Odin. Thor. Freyja. Loki. It's a rich, sprawling mythology. Having said that, like other mythologies, there are elements of silliness insanity, chaos, all of which make it even more compelling for me.
By John R. Godwin17 days ago in Fiction
Rolling Away The Stone. Runner-Up in What the Myth Gets Wrong Challenge.
Nathan was 100 percent done with Jericho. When he'd left Jerusalem Friday morning, he'd been full of pep and vigor, ready to take his first break of longer than a day since the Lord knew when. The Nathan who lay in his bed at the Right Thyme Inn listening to his neighbors fuck loudly for the second night in a row felt a little differently about things.
By Raistlin Allen17 days ago in Fiction
The Ice Slick: An Apology
Dear Montréal, Well, this has been a fun two days. Ha, ha. Sorry, I am not well-known for my sense of humour. Often I have been told that I should mind my own business and know my place. Offensive, yes, but I can understand the sentiment. But I needed to vent a little before the season was over. I often feel that you do not appreciate what I give you every summer, and that winter is the price you gotta pay.
By Kendall Defoe 18 days ago in Fiction
Kitsune's Intervention: A Very Inconvenient Yokai
"I'm telling you, Christie, he is CHEATING on you!" She sighed hard. "Min... I know you think that, but Darryl would never cheat. He is so thoughtful and so, so loyal. He is just the absolute sweetest. I lucked out so hard marrying him. It feels like a dream."
By Alicia Anspaugh18 days ago in Fiction
The Android Detective: Help Wanted
Vesper Lyra leaned her lanky frame into the door to push through the entrance lacking working electronics. A simple, painted sign in a boring and nondescript font announced that one would find a Clyde Sharpman, P.D. inside. Among the bright lights, vibrantly coloured signs, and announcements everywhere else on Wetwater Street, how she even noticed the place was a mystery. Not to mention the roughly cut-out cardboard sign in the unit’s dirty window advertising that the private detective, Clyde Sharpman, wanted help.
By Jean-François Lamothe18 days ago in Fiction
