4 Rock & Roll may save my soul
The divine corridors of Mt. Olympus quivered under the weight of Zeus' wrath as he pursued me, his booming voice resonating through the celestial realm. Accusations and curses clashed like a divine storm as we raced through various godly domains and the imposing abodes of mythic beings.
"You dare defy me, Zeri? You insolent child!" Zeus thundered, his voice echoing with the fury of the heavens.
"And why wouldn't I defy you? A tyrant who fears the potential of his own creation!" I shot back, my voice a mixture of hatred and desperation.
As we raced past the domains of other gods, glimpses of their realms flashed by—Athena's strategic sanctum, Poseidon's aquatic palace, and Aphrodite's ethereal gardens. Each location carried its own divine energy, a stark contrast to the tempest that roared between Zeus and me.
Athena, the wise goddess of strategic warfare, observed the chase from the confines of her sacred sanctum. Her piercing gray eyes flickered with a mixture of concern and frustration as she clutched the hilt of her spear. Despite her tactical brilliance, she was bound by the decree of Zeus, unable to lend her strategic prowess to aid the tormented goddess.
Poseidon, god of the seas, gazed at the celestial turmoil from his aquatic palace. The roiling waves mirrored the tumult within him as he clenched his trident, the impulse to intervene warring with the knowledge of the repercussions. The mighty ruler of the oceans, too, found himself ensnared in the web of divine politics.
Aphrodite, surrounded by the intoxicating fragrance of her celestial gardens, watched with a mix of sorrow and helplessness as the tumultuous chase unfolded on Mt. Olympus. The goddess of love and beauty, usually the embodiment of elegance and serenity, now bore a furrowed brow and a subtle quiver in her rosy lips. Her enchanting blue eyes, mirrors of the myriad emotions she governed, held a deep sadness as the essence of love itself seemed strained by the familial discord playing out below. Aphrodite's graceful aura, which typically radiated an air of alluring harmony, now carried an undertone of muted sorrow. She exchanged wordless glances with fellow gods, a silent acknowledgment of their shared frustration at being bound by Zeus's decree, their divine abilities rendered impotent in the face of a tragedy unfolding in the heart of Olympus.
The divine tapestry of Olympus, usually vibrant with the harmonious interplay of gods and goddesses, now bore witness to a discordant spectacle. The heavens themselves seemed to weep, and the once-glorious realms resonated with the echoes of strife. In the celestial silence, the gods could only hope that the storm would pass, leaving in its wake a semblance of divine order and justice.
The celestial battleground shifted, the clash of lightning and wind forming an ethereal dance around us. Zeus, filled with an anger rooted in fear of my potential, hurled bolts of divine fury my way. I dodged with the agility of desperation, narrowly avoiding a cataclysmic blast, but the shockwave still sent me tumbling down the side of the sacred mountain.
Regaining my footing, I pressed on, the storm of above me following like an unrelenting shadow. In one tense moment, Zeus seized me, his grip a vice around my arm. Desperation set in, and with a feral instinct, I sank my teeth into his hand. The taste of his divine essence mingled with the metallic tang of blood, granting me a momentary reprieve as he recoiled.
"Your defiance only deepens your suffering, Zeri. You are but a pawn in a greater game," Zeus bellowed, his anger escalating as he recoiled from the bite.
The pursuit continued until, with a final burst of speed and focus, I harnessed my divine power and teleported to Earth. The towering skyline of Metropolis greeted me, a beacon of safety after the treachery in Mt Olympus. But the wariness lingered; Zeus could traverse realms, yet Earth provided a momentary respite.
The bustling city stretched before me, a stark departure from the divine realm I had fled The comfort of mortal mundanity seemed like a refuge, a momentary escape.
Using my divine abilities, I summoned clothes befitting the world I now found myself in. An elegant white dress adorned my form, a disguise that would allow me to move unnoticed among mortals. The once-divine goddess now masqueraded as a wealthy lady, her appearance a stark contrast to the Olympian splendor.
I secured a penthouse suite in a luxurious hotel, using my divine charm to navigate mortal bureaucracy effortlessly. The opulence of Metropolis stretched before me, a stark departure from the divine realm I had fled. The comfort of mortal mundanity seemed like a refuge, a momentary escape from the tumultuous divine politics.
In the lavish bathroom, I locked the door behind me, seeking solace in the cascade of water that cleansed my mortal form. The breakdown came like an avalanche, the weight of years of torment and violation bearing down on me. The dichotomy of my true divine self and the mortal façade heightened the anguish.
The shower, a vessel of cleansing, became a battleground of emotions. I crumpled against the cool tiles, my breath hitching in the silent sobs of a tortured soul. The water masked the tears that mingled with the rivulets streaming down my face. The dichotomy of my divine essence and mortal vulnerability intertwined, leaving me shattered and vulnerable.
As the emotional storm raged within, the aftermath of my breakdown bore the scars of a past only I could truly understand. The transmigration, a man thrust into the tormented existence of Zeri, added another layer of complexity to the struggle. The fear of touch, an echo of the violation I endured, manifested as a trembling uncertainty.
Wrapped in the mortal guise, I emerged from the shower, a goddess cloaked in vulnerability. The penthouse suite became a cocoon where the echoes of trauma and the yearning for purification merged into a poignant symphony of pain. The war may have paused, but the scars etched on my divine soul would linger, entwined with the uncertainty of mortal fragility.
As the soothing warmth of the shower faded away, I reclined on the plush couch, clad in comfortable clothes. The glow of the television filled the room, and I absentmindedly flipped through the channels until a news report caught my attention. The screen displayed the familiar figure of Superman, the Man of Steel, soaring through the skies. The news anchor enthusiastically reported on Superman's recent heroic rescue, emphasizing the lives saved and the city's gratitude. A sigh of relief escaped me; with Superman patrolling the city, at least I could find solace in its relative safety.
Contemplating my next move, I dismissed the idea of being a hero. It wasn't my desire, nor did I feel a calling to it. I craved normalcy, an existence far removed from the divine turmoil that had consumed my life. The notion of living under the radar, avoiding attention that could expose my supernatural origins, took precedence. A job seemed like the most logical step, a means to blend into the mortal world seamlessly.
In that moment, Apollo manifested before me, a serene aura surrounding him. He spoke, assuring me that he came in peace and that, for the time being, Zeus' fury had been temporarily quelled by the tumultuous Olympian politics. The other gods were holding him back, demanding explanations. Apollo then bestowed a blessing upon me, gifting me with an innate talent for music. Instruments would yield to my touch, and my voice would carry the enchantment of a seasoned professional. He promised that as long as I immersed myself in the world of music, it would serve as a balm for my wounded soul.
With his message and blessing delivered, Apollo left as swiftly as he arrived, summoned back to the intrigues of Mt. Olympus. Drained and exhausted, I succumbed to the embrace of sleep, eager for the dawn of a new chapter in my existence.
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. The prospect of a music career lay before me, a canvas waiting for the strokes of my creativity. Thoughts swirled in my mind as I pondered the genre that would become my artistic medium. Pop and EDM seemed to be the trend, promising glitz, glamour, and mainstream success. Yet, the gift bestowed upon me by Apollo, the ability to master music instruments effortlessly, beckoned me toward a different path.
I considered pop and EDM, envisioning the vibrant stages, flashing lights, and the pulsating energy of the crowd. However, something about these genres felt too manufactured, too constrained. I craved a raw, unfiltered expression that delved into the depths of human emotion. The resonance of instruments held an authenticity that electronic beats couldn't replicate.
Then, my mind wandered to rock—an expansive realm where emotions could be channeled through the strings of a guitar, the pounding of drums, and the haunting melody of a keyboard. Rock offered a canvas that allowed for the exploration of darker, more profound emotions. It was a genre that embraced the raw and the visceral, where artists laid bare their souls for the world to see.
As I contemplated the possibilities, the allure of rock grew stronger. The versatility of the genre, the ability to convey a spectrum of emotions—from angst to melancholy, rebellion to introspection—captivated me. I envisioned myself on stage, guitar in hand, pouring my heart into each chord, each lyric.
With newfound determination, I decided to embark on a rock music journey. The power of the instruments, coupled with my divine blessing, could create something extraordinary. Rock, with its rich tapestry of expression, would become the vessel for my healing and transformation, a way to connect with the mortal world on my terms. The decision settled in my heart, and as I prepared for the day, the chords of a future rock ballad echoed in my mind, signaling the beginning of a chapter filled with sex, drugs & rock'n roll.
