Of Gods and Men

The Book

Grace held the withering book in her hands tentatively. She stroked its dog eared pages mesmerised by the beauty of its peeling words. The gold lettering on the front cover was delicate, as if painted by brush stroke. The spine was cracked in several places, and chapter three was completely bound by sellotape. Yet as she sat on her bed, the book held tightly to her chest, she couldn’t help but smile, as the book in her arms had more than mysteries to tell.

Grace shut her eyes firmly and flicked open the book at random. Although none of the stories were uncharted to her, she still felt the rush of discovering a chapter anew. She let her eyes form to slits so she could just about see the story that today she’d read. She beamed; it was one of her particular favourites. The one in which Perseus would slay the Gorgon and return home to free his mother from the evil Polydectes. He would then restore Dictys to his rightful crown, and marry the beautiful Andromeda and they'd all live happily ever after.

She began to read letting the words fill her, she was soon in an entirely different place, a whole new world. She blinked her eyes- or rather Perseus’ eyes and saw the Gorgon that towered above her.

‘I do not fear you!’ She yelled, pulling out her sickle, a present from none other than Pallas Athene herself. The sword had so much History. Cronos had used it to castrate his own father Uranos, and even Zeus himself had killed his father with it. There was no sword sharper and now Grace held it in her hands. The blade was cold and unyielding, beautiful in this half-light but deadly. She twirled it confidently, and viewed the Medusa from the reflective side of her shield- also a gift from Athene. She was a hero, and she would defeat this beast.

Grace surged forwards, her winged sandals spurring her on. She leapt over the Medusa’s flailing arms and sunk the sword cleanly into her neck. The monster howled, and fell hissing to the floor. She was just about to yell the hero's battle cry and the Medusa's head was just about to topple  onto the floor, when she was rudely interrupted by her rather angry looking Social worker.

‘Grace Jenner, stop this at once, it's three o'clock in the morning! Besides, you’re much too old for fairy tales!’ She grumbled and plucked the leather bound book from Grace’s arms. Grace lowered her sickle, which was actually a thirty centimetre ruler, and reluctantly handed over her shield, which was actually her mythology book. She bowed her head and looked morosely at her winged sandals, which were in fact nothing but her slippers, with tapped- on feathers.

Miss Lee, was Grace’s social worker and was a rather bumbling sort of fool. She was the bane of Grace’s life. Miss Lee was plump around the middle- what some would call 'pear' shaped. Her gaze was steely, and her grey eyes made her look older, and deadly somehow.

 Grace stole forwards and tried to pull the book from Miss Lee’s arms.  She wouldn’t give in that easily, as Miss Lee had disrupted her from the most important part of the story.

Miss Lee stepped backwards holding the book high in the air. Grace jumped feebly to catch it but she was not tall enough. ‘Give it back!’ Grace roared.

The old woman tittered, ‘You can only have it back, if you promise, no more fairy tales,’ she added more softly, ‘you’re a big girl now.’

Grace nodded fury welling up inside of her, It would take more than Miss Lee to stop her reading ‘fairy tales’ as she called them.

'I Promise,’’ Grace lied, her fingers crossed behind her back, ‘But, Miss Lee, they’re not fairy takes they are  actually Greek myths.’

The old woman laughed. ‘Same difference! Mythology dear, is a waste of time. Those stories you read will never be of use to you in the real world. The world is a very un-magical place.’

Grace glared at her until the door was firmly shut. She hated this place. She hated the staff, and she hated her life. She imagined that her real parents wherever they were would have understood her love of the ancient myths. They would have all read them together, they would have been a happy family. It was her late mother who had left this book for her before she had left Grace at the orphanage.

The orphanage was named, ‘St McLean’s,’ and had tried to trace her parents countless times, but to no avail, though secretly, Grace had never given up. She knew there had to be a reason that they’d left her here, a puzzle she had to work out, but her attempts at figuring out so far had been fruitless.

She kicked her bedpost firmly fury burning up inside of her. Grace reached over and picked up an adjacent shoe which she flung harshly accross the room. After her short display she flopped pathetically onto her bed. Normal people just didn’t understand. The myths were real, they had to be. They moved something inside of her, made her feel alive. They stirred up feeling so old inside of her that those thoughts scared her, it was as if they were not entirely her own. They made sense to her, but the other things that girls her age were supposed to read she didn’t understand. Why did the girls her age like to read books about vampires or soppy romantic love stories? Grace just simply couldn’t understand why the world of battle, tyranny, myth and magic didn’t entrance them like it did her.

In her pensive state she opened her book onto its first dusty page and read; she was immediately transported into a world where time stands still. She had always guessed that her mother had written this note, as it was not printed like the rest of the book was rather, it was lovingly handwritten. The handwriting itself was elegant and sophisticated. Grace let her fingers trail around the long sloping 'g's and tapped the book over all of the dotted 'i's. The writing was spiky, rushed, it must have been written in a hurry, or that was what Grace had always asumed. She took a deep breath before reading, what she had mostly memorised by heart:

‘Greece is a country haunted by more than three thousand years of history and legend. The book you hold here contains more than just stories invented by the people of old to entertain themselves. It contains what may be for you the difference between life and death.

The mountains slope steeply into the crystal sky and between them lay the deep valleys. So deep, it is as if a master carver let them there. Millions of Olive Trees line the silver valleys which melt into the bluest of blue lakes. Those lakes diminish into hundreds of trickling streams. As you stroll through the late summer, when Selene has risen the moon from its splendour, you are sure you can hear a Shepard singing sweetly to his sheep. Surely that is Pan the son of Hermes.

And wait who is that warrior running up the hill? That must be Ares God of war whose mere presence could make cowards become heroes, and old men quake. The streams, the sea, the sky, the valleys and the hills are all spattered with ancient history. Legends so old, and so true that they can hardly be believed.

As you look around Greece in all its splendour you can see the wood nymphs among the trees and the water nymphs in the rivers- the fairies of human size who did not die and had powers so strong that they could make rivers swell and break their dams within moments. There were sea nymphs and sea horses who lived in the white roaring foam, and mermaids too- but not all of them were friendly, and strange woodland creatures who could be fierce and cruel when the winds arose. There is magic inside all that exists, all you have to do is look.’

The note came to an abrupt end. She has always felt it had stopped prematurely. Grace could feel her heart racing, she could feel all that was within her soaring. She trailed her fingers across the ancient pages of her book. She had memorised most of it. That introduction she knew off by heart. As she read it again for the fourth or fifth time she whispered the words to herself. She stared at the page one last time before lovingly  tucking it under her pillow. It was time for bed. She switched off her torch and pulled the blankets up over her head. Tonight she knew she would dream of Gods and Men, and of the world which she loved.