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Weekly Contest #319
I was mortal, once. My steps rang soft as water over stone when I entered the temple of the gray-eyed goddess. It smelled of olive leaf and dust. I had woven my hair that morning with river reeds and a single sprig of laurel; I wished the goddess to see me orderly, not for men’s gaze, but for hers. When the sun stood at its highest, light fell in spears through the oculus and gathered at Athena's feet. I knew the old hymns. I knew which oil soothed the owls’ bronze and which cloth would not scratch the shield that bore the world. I was a dau...
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