Dany Slone

Creative Fiction

religion

  • Believers and Skeptics

    Ten years had passed since the skies over Zaragoza, Spain, turned to blood. The pyramids—Giza, Chichen Itza, Teotihuacan—had roared to life, their ancient stones humming as beams of light lanced upward, stitching the heavens with red stars. The lattice of crimson threads wove a canopy that smothered the blue sky, and the rivers, from the Read more

  • The Eternal Scribe #10 : Germany

    In 1945, amidst war’s wreckage, Thoth met Gandhi, his frame frail but his spirit iron. “Use the tablet for peace,” Gandhi pleaded, bombs echoing in the distance. “It’s a curse,” Thoth said, his voice heavy. “Power corrupts.” A naga slithered from the shadows, scales glinting. “The Nazis hold it!” Thoth raced through Berlin’s ruins, dodging Read more

  • The Eternal Scribe #7 : Golgotha

    At Golgotha, amid the stench of death, Thoth approached Jesus, nailed and bleeding, his eyes calm despite the agony.“The tablet’s truths are in me,” Jesus said, each word a labor. “I’ve rewritten them.” Thoth knelt, the wind howling. “You’ve made them human. That’s more than I could.” A man thundered past on a horse, hooves Read more

  • The Eternal Scribe #6 : Rome

    In Alexandria’s opulent halls, Thoth reclined with Cleopatra, her asp coiled on a cushion, its eyes glinting like jewels.“Caesar’s ambition bores me,” she said, her fingers brushing the tablet. “What can this do?” “Make you divine,” Thoth murmured, his lips grazing her neck. “Leave him. Rule with me.”Her smile was a blade. “Done.” Caesar burst Read more

  • The Eternal Scribe #5 : Greece

    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

  • The Eternal Scribe #4 : Mesopotamia

    In Uruk’s mud-brick sprawl, Thoth found Gilgamesh, his frame a mountain of muscle, his eyes weary from endless quests. Enkidu, wild and loyal, sat beside him, their table strewn with clay cups and spilled beer. “What’s that green stone?” Gilgamesh asked, his voice rough with curiosity. “Immortality,” Thoth said, meeting his gaze. “A gift for Read more