Femme Fatale: Hel, Nordic Goddess of the Dead

Baldr had always been a pleasure.  He should be, after all.  It wouldn't do to be the god of joy, purity, and bright summer sunshine and be an asshole. Lately, though, the young god had seemed troubled.  His step was no longer light and his fair brow was often wrinkled in deep thought.  He was …

Femme Fatale: Persephone, Greek Goddess of the Underworld

While many are familiar with the figure of Hades as ruler of the Grecian underworld, not all are as familiar with the tale of his wife and Queen of the Underworld, Persephone. When the world was still young and man had only newly begun to learn the art of tilling the soil to grow wheat for …

Femme Fatale: The Feminine Tradition of Death

Most English-speaking westerners are acquainted with the image of the Grim Reaper: skeletal, hooded, often wielding a scythe. It's an effective visual shorthand, a skeleton wrapped in its death shroud hefting an intimidating and dangerous agricultural tool that often doubled as a weapon when the occasion necessitated.  The metaphor? As the farmer cuts down his …

Fuckin’ Faeries, Pt. 2

I could feel his hands, rough on my body. Even in my dazed state I felt my skin trying to ripple away from Ol’ Stefan’s touch. This wasn’t the caress of a lover, this was the assessing and prodding palming of an inspection. Hips, thighs, stomach, breasts - each pinched and rubbed as though he …

Fuckin’ Faeries

The air misted in front of my face, small clouds of frost keeping time with my breath. I hated crossing through the old warehouse district to get home. Fucking Prissy-Piss Lydia. It had been bad enough being on shift with her, pulling drafts and slamming down shots while she flounced about like a wispy schoolgirl, …