Walls of stone, All alone, Stands a throne,

Sits a king, Of broken things, A lonely song is what he sings,

Face of stone, Man of bone, Atone, atone, atone,

Sins of old, Carved into gold, Stories told,

Man of bone, King of old, Let me tell you of stories told,

The old lady used to sing, A song about the broken king,

Oh dear king of broken things, Do you listen as the bluebird sings,

Crown of iron and broken glass, Tell me how long did your kingdom last,

Staring foreword and Standing tall, Tell me what it's like to fall

Crumbling kingdom of ash and rubble, Bleeding red with kingdom troubles,

king forgotten, Kingdom lost, Were you ready for this cost,

Oh dear king of broken things,

Sitting upon a throne,

A body of bones,

A kingdom of rubble,

Was your pride worth all this trouble?

Our mother was never very good at the give and take game that came with relationships whether that be lover, friend, sister, daughter and least of all mother, she was an avaricious kind of person, you see. She loved golds and riches and could have drowned in her materialistic ways if they took the form of water.

She would take and take and take until all you had left to give her was your death. She was the kind of person that you could never truly leave, never truly escape from, you could move out, far away, you could cut off all contact for years, until it got to the point that you were never to sure if she was still alive, but in the end... you would always find your way to her,

For she had a debt to collect, you see and she always collected.

The longest living child of our mother and yet still ever the younger sister, looked to her recently revived elder sister, as she stood bare footed on the wild, flower spotted field staring at the night sky, humming a shanty the younger sister hadn’t heard for hundreds of years, not since their mother was still alive and they were still small and young and unscathed by the world, by their mother. During a time when they had so much to give and so little to fear.

“She had died long before you and yet you were still trapped with her weren’t you?” The younger sister asked softly in a voice muffled with melancholy and hesitation.

“We are all trapped with her, dead or alive we always find our way back, there is no escape from her you know that. Each and every one of us granted life through her, always will be, even through death, it is what she believes she is owed in exchange for the life we were given.” The elder sister turns enough that she can look at her younger sister.

“She always collects and If the time ever comes for you little sister, you will will realise that the same as the rest of us.” Her voice held a certainty that would have scared the younger sister in her mortal days. And yet still gives out chills in her immortal ones, she thought, rubbing her wrists, as if she could feel the fantom, intangible chains connecting her to their mother.

Her sister finishes with a soft kind of acceptance she never had when she lived, “Her death didn’t change that, so why would mine?”

It’s a raining, pouring, absolutely soaked, kind of day. I’m wearing my boots, they’ve got a good grip on the slippery pavement and they’re warm, I love warm things and the rain, I love the rain too, the after smell, the sound, the way it waters the flowers and the trees, although the slipping and the sliding is quite embarrassing.

Water splashes against my face not from the sky though? An umbrella? “Oh my, I’m so sorry,” a girl, short, young and apologetic. “No worries, it’s raining so I’m bound to get wet anyway,” I tell her with a wave of my hand and a small smile to make her feel comfortable enough to walk on her way without feeling guilty or embarrassed. She smiles, rosey cheeked and nose to match, a happy smile, embarrassed but relieved, wild slightly wet curly hair.

I watch her go past with a yellow umbrella, a big one too, four times the size of a regular fold up one, she looks to be in a rush though, quick steps, slipping and a little bit sliding.

Although she seemed to be just fine walking on her way, each step slipping but enough to keep her up. Except for the last one that I, in a split second thought, decided I would be the best person for the job of saving her from falling.

Except, well, I wasn’t. Considering when I grabbed her arm to catch her from falling my ever so sturdy shoes that have such a good grip on the slippery pavement, didn’t.

She fell, I fell, we both fell. she was wet, I was wet. Her umbrella hit me in the face and got tangled in her hair. She laughed and I did as well, “I apologise yet again now your more soaked than before” “Well it’s raining might as well get wet falling with you than standing on my lonesome,” I chuckle and smile back helping her up. “I’m Sophie,” she tells me brushing her hair from her face and smiling softly. “Jamie,” I smile back.

It would seem I made nothing better and everything worse. We were both embarrassed, maybe I should have just tried to help her up. Maybe I should have just saved her the embarrassment and left her to sort her self out.

But there was a kind of happiness I saw in her face I don’t think I’ve seen before and a kind of happiness I felt looking at her. I guess reaching out to her was all I could think of to take back her attention.

“I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me!” The gods voice bounced of every wall, every crevice in the building, it seemed as though even the mountains shoved it back towards us in a desperate fight to keep themselves unnoticed.

Lightning struck the ground outside the old, marble temple, cracks waded their way through the floor, thunder shook it making wider cracks and causing the building to creak. “If you don’t calm down this precious place of worship, solely for you by the way, will tumble down” The girl replies calmly “you wouldn’t want that now would you? How would you get your daily dose of sacrifice.” The sarcasm only angered him more, she could feel the cold winds, hear the howling outside, like wolfs hunting, the outside world was being torn apart. “How dare you come here and talk to me in that way. I am a god! You serve m-“

“I serve myself” She interrupts him before he could finish that marvellous speech. This does nothing to cool his anger. “You are no god of mine, you were mearly a means to an end old man... or is it old thing? I mean your not human are you?” “How! dare! you!” Emphasising each word, his face red as a ripe tomato, who knew gods could stoop to such a human level of emotion.

“Oh I dare, you may be a god and you may have lived a thousand lifetimes but I have only lived one.” Her face stone and voice sharp. “and in this singular section of time I claim it! this is my life! And You do not get to tell me how to live it!” His eyes seem to almost glow.

“I created your kind girl! I made you! I can do what I wish with my creations!” His voice crashes against the walls like a caged animal.

“Don’t get so arrogant about it you only created the first of us, everything else we did on our own.” The ground rumbles yet again, “You are but a human woman, a useless one at that, you couldn’t even do one thing right! I asked of you one thi-“ “I did it just fine, the goddesses children are no longer an enemy to you, they hold no threat they are gone, just not in the way you wanted, they aren’t dead” “You betray-“ “No I changed course if you are so powerful you should have done it yourself! Why use a human? For your cowardly anonymity? You believe we are expendable! I refuse to bloody my hands or kill children because some old man feels threatened of a baby!”

The ground cracks open, walls begin to crumble and yet there stands the girl, wild curly hair and defiant eyes, staring down a being who has lived far longer than her. The building collapses around her and she does not move. She’s mortal after all, mortals die, whilst gods tend to forget,

     He won’t forget Her.

Cold enough to warrant a light jacket, The chill settles against my skin comfortably, The smell of rain is constant, I can’t tell if the sun is rising or setting, But still, the sky whispers in pastel colours, Sitting on the roof of a small shed, Leaning back, hands behind me keeping me up, Legs dangle above the grassy field that stretches out to the trees, It’s quiet, I’m alone My mind cannot talk here, Crickets, birds, cars passing by, The sky does not call to me here, There is no need to escape from this place, I feel small and insignificant, And my problems hold no value here, Nothing changes, Nothing leaves, Everything is constant.

Hot soup on a winters day, Ice cream under a summers sun, Chocolate on a sweet tooth night, You are the calm in every hectic situation, You are what I give into when I’m craving comfort, You are vanilla sweet, And chocolate craving, I would give you my favourite food, I would give you rice pudding, warm, sweet, and ever so comforting, If I could give you the comfort you give me in the shape of food, to me that is closest, It feels cheesy to say, And probably doesn’t make much sense to you, But you are my rice pudding, And so that is what I would give you.