green
-
In the autumn of 1973, the chalk cliffs of Kent loomed over the grey churn of the English Channel, their white faces streaked with flint and despair. Dover’s streets, damp with the salt-kissed mist, wound through a town battered by economic rot and the weight of a government that seemed to care more for Whitehall’s Read more
-
On Olympus, where clouds coiled like serpents, Thoth faced Zeus, his white hair crackling with lightning. “That tablet,” Zeus thundered, gripping his bolt. “It’s mine by right.” Thoth sidestepped a searing strike, his feathers singed. “Trade it for Aphrodite’s embrace.” Zeus paused, then roared with laughter. “You’ve got nerve, scribe. Agreed.” Aphrodite awaited in a Read more
Dany Slone 