Saturday Sample: Once We Were Hereos by Henry Lewi, nectar

 

 The Gods do Tesco

First published on CafeLit 20/7/2020

  One Monday morning Zeus the chief God announced that the stocks of Ambrosia on Mount Olympus were running dangerously low.  “We’ve got to find a way of restocking, but mankind has lost respect for the old gods and won’t make any more Ambrosia or provide us offerings of wine.” 

 His daughter Athena the goddess of wisdom replied, “I blame the state of the Greek economy and the EU. The Greeks don't have two euros to rub together and impose additional taxes on the wine they make.”

 “It’s not just that,” replied Apollo. “In the interests of diversity and equality, one group of gods can’t be singled out for preferential treatment.  I was chatting to Thor, and he tells me that they are treated much better in Norway outside the EU.  We’re not looked on kindly as we have more male Gods than female, so our EU Major Deity Grant is being slashed.”

  “Right,” said Zeus’ wife, Hera. “We’ve got to do some shopping. You Apollo, and your sister Artemis get yourselves down to Tesco, as I hear they’ve a two for one offer on honey and ambrosia.  Take the Golden Chariot, you can park it in mother and child’s bay, but remember to turn off the Rising Sun option when you park up.”

  “Mum! Really? Do I have too? I’ve got a date with that Norwegian dish “Balder the Beautiful” this afternoon. Can’t Ares go? He’s got no major wars that he’s got to be at.”

 Later that afternoon Apollo and Ares entered the Tesco Store dressed in their finest white Togas edged in Gold.

It was sheer madness; the store was crowded with people obviously humans who were running hither and thither with no respect being shown for the two gods that walked amongst them!

“What in Hades name is going on?” said Ares.

“Look people are running around with armfuls of toilet paper and pasta.”

“Dunno,” said a sullen Apollo – truth be told he didn’t like Tesco he was more a Fortnum’s kind of god. “Maybe those Roman gods have inflicted some kind of plague like they did a few years ago, what did they call it? Oh Yeah Black Death or something like that.”

“Nah,” said Ares. “That wasn’t the Romans; it was that bunch of Indian Gods that sent it West. Anyway, that was because I stole the idea of the longbow from them and gave it to that English guy - what’s his name Ed, Eddy or Edward something?  Besides it was nearly 700 years ago!”

Apollo’s phone pinged, and looking at it he said, “There’s a WhatsApp message on the ‘Major Deity Group Chat’ from<> someone called Monkey.”

 

"Thanks,” said Apollo. “Seems like he’s sent this message out advising us that he’d got some viral infection from some Pangolins he was looking after for that Mexican mate of his, Yum something or other, who’s gone on a cruise to the Far East, and he won’t be able to meet up with everybody at the annual Ragnarök festival.”

“Where’s it this year?” asked Ares.

“Milan,” I think replied Apollo, “but with all this toilet roll epidemic they’re talking about cancelling it.”

Sadly, the shelves were empty of honey and ambrosia and the Tesco store manager had no idea when the next delivery would take place.

“It’s in the Lap of the Gods”, he stated staring directly at Apollo, “You’re the god of Medicine go and have a word with that guy COBRA, who seems to run the Government, and sort it out will you!”

“Why don’t we try Waitrose? A much better class of store and customer, they’re bound to have ambrosia at least – though we’ll have to pay extra; they don’t do a two for one deal!” said Ares.   

Find your copy here  

About the author 

Henry is a retired surgeon having worked for the NHS for over thirty-five years. He has in the past written and published a number of Clinical and Scientific papers, but began writing for fun following his retiral from Clinical Practice.

Henry mainly writes on a whole variety of topics: tales from the Confused Beginning of the Universe, the modern day involvement of the Olympian Gods in London life, and a number of wartime short spy stories.

He has published a number of these stories on the Café Lit site and some have been included in The Best of Café Lit, and Aftermath published by Chapeltown Books.

He writes a monthly ‘Old Fogies’ column for The Edge a monthly magazine published in Chelmsford and is a long term and avid supporter of Tottenham Hotspur.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chosen by an Angel

Sandy Wilson

Nectar

Beneath the blue sky she watches the palm trees sway in the warm breeze. Sunlight and shadows dance across the white facade of the mosque opposite her home. Scent of jasmine hangs in the warm air. In a lilting voice the Imam calls the faithful to prayers. Her mother sings in the kitchen, her younger brothers bicker in the yard. She waves to her father walking across the road towards her.......Then.....she hears someone screaming..........


Rahel realised it was she who was screaming. Then, the crash of breaking glass brought her back to the moment as burning debris fell past the window. Sat on the floor under the layer of grey smoke she was sitting on the apartment floor, terrified, struggling to breathe and holding her son close, covering his face with her scarf. Through the choking smoke she could discern the ghostly shapes of others crouched or curled up in resignation around the edge of the room.
     As Rahel slipped back into semiconsciousness, she felt an unexpected cool hand on her forehead. She looked up dreamily to see a man looking into her eyes. When asked later, she could not describe him, such were the ordinary features of his face and the style of his clothing.
     The man bent down and gently lifted her to her feet. She felt a surge of energy pulse through her body.
     "Walk." Said the man. "Leave this place. You must live."
     Before she passed through the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder. Despite the flames rolling across the ceiling the unremarkable man was moving around a group of men stooping over each huddled figure. One looked up with pleading eyes but the unremarkable man shook his head and moved on to the next. On the other side of the room he helped another, a young teenager to his feet, told him he would live and gestured towards the doorway before continuing his circuit of the room deciding who would live and who would die.


Two months later investigators sifting through the ash and debris of flat 801 found an undamaged USB stick. It contained the plans for a terrorist attack on a large shopping mall in London. Then, later in November the analysis of DNA samples from the flat would identify the remains of a known people trafficker and child abuser.


“He must have been an angel" Rahel had said to the inquiry when asked about the unremarkable man who saved their lives. "What other explanation is there? We were chosen by an angel."

About the author

Sandy writes fiction, memoirs and some poetry. His work has been published in the anthologies ‘The Pulse of Everything’ and ‘The Darkening Season’ and  the international poetry anthology ‘Indra’s Net’. He is a member of Otley Writers and blogs as www.sandyscribbler.com