Eitan Olevsky

Writer

Category: English

Loss of the Goldenlight (Poem)

Goldenlight eternal reflected on ice-capped waters,
Summer bright paradise of cold heat.
Heavenly white’s prints of polar bear feet,
Black as a reminder of a plight that really matters.

At the slow tip-tap of a ceaseless drummer,
Icy tears drop into an Arctic sea
Making the Hyperborean’s dream a plea:
“If our crust melts, what will be of our unfading summer?”

Epochs of War (Poem)

Epochs of war cry shrill

whence reign the shafts of steel,

that under cloudless deaths

brings seeds upon its breaths.

 

They heed not kings of birth

but ravage lands of old,

sucking the entire earth

from flames that blend to gold.

 

Fortune drops asunder,

torn upon its thunder

when the moon shears the sun

gloomily on the run.

Ending Realm (Poem)

As the day arises in dark contemplation,

A shrewd path gains my admiration,

Through gates of gold,

And silver bold,

Where heaven’s breath,

Is mighty as death,

I shall see within a rhyme,

The finite realms of time,

Slowly,

Passing by.

Death of a King (Poem)

Through everglades of pine forests,

beneath patterns of twigs and branches,

packs of wolves roam,

howling endlessly at a lit moon

contrasted in the darkness.

 

A shrill cry can be heard,

beyond thickets of bushes,

past ivy thorns and wild grass.

 

Farther from the river’s crossing

lies the stone covered bridge,

leading onward.

 

Crossing wooden gates of an ancient castle

a room lies dormant upon the carpeted hall.

Behold!  There is no future,

for the merciless soul of misfortune

has brought a murder within its shade.

Shall our reign prosper, if by chance,

daylight succeeds.

Betrayal of the Luckless (Poem)

It is the clear ingratitude gone against us,

what takes us to bring havoc upon our enemies out in the sea.

We stare at our merciless enemies

hoping to find a path upon rushing bellows of high tide.

Our gloom old vessel, lightened only by the sparks of darkened clouds,

roams lost.

All nature raves against us,

when all we wanted was justice.

Now we shall die dishonored,

torn by the sea,

shred by the jagged coastal rocks of our own nation.

Three-sided Sword (Poem)

Infinitely delighted Ontario,
delights with fingers to the lake.
He points his fellows, bent dark upon the map.
Lips repeat the coveted treasure:

A sword, gift to curiosity, broad, and three-sided,
Snake of war-gods, conceived by eagle’s claws.
Formed beast and bird — serpentine hard and highly polished.

A weapon fierce, of silver and gold, ivory and battle.
Hideous thing regarded with mysterious awe,
Bringing along delight, the eagle-beaked monster,
Curiosity, producing him again.

Tick Tick Ticking (Poem)

Clocks tick

continuously unceasing,

telling us indifferently

how life has been decreasing.

 

Our days are gone

when times are lost,

and seasons die

in times of frost.

 

When old age renders

the juvenile soul

to strike and bowl,

death, has come.

Hungry (Poem)

That day there was a horse,

I ate it all by force,

My fork looked like a stork,

My knife would be at strife.

While engulfing it all,

A hippo would fall,

All big and tall,

From a cliff by the wall.

The hippo was like a bus,

All big a buzz,

But it was only complaining

How it slipped while raining

Fallen,

Trodden,

Like a cat with no claws,

A bear with no paws,

Lost, in detriment to my laws.

As I awaited the beast,

I could prepare a feast

Watching it like a pork,

Clinging to my fork.

Gods’ Gym (Story)

“You see,” Zeus said, fixing the tie in his neatly-ironed black coat, “we need you in our staff.”

  Hermes strolled past the reception desk and stared at the room lined with treadmills and strength machines. No human seemed to notice his winged shoes or the fact that he held a long staff with a silvered point.

“I thought I was being summoned here for a special assignment,” Hermes said, his eyes following an obese man miserably failing at sit-ups while bouncing off a large yoga ball.

“And you came to the right place,” Zeus said, offering him a grin worthy of a toothpaste commercial. “I know we haven’t explained to you yet the details of what we do here. I wanted you to see with your own eyes.”

  Hands shoved Hermes from behind; a mob of female mortals led by Aphrodite.
“Hi Hermes!” the goddess waved, leading the imperfect mass of humans within the glass walls of the aerobics lounge. She wore yoga pants so tight they almost looked like her skin, displaying her unnatural curves.

“Aphrodite teaches the 11 o’clock aerobics class,” Zeus explained.

“Father,” Hermes said, not even slightly amused. “Why are you doing this? What happened to the good old days of epic wars among the gods? Now you tell me you operate a gym? And even worse, one for humans?”

  Zeus stroked his white beard in amusement. “This is more than just a gym for mortals, as you come to understand.” Wild music began booming from the aerobics class.

  Zeus stared at the mass of female mortals following the goddesses’ every move. “Aphrodite possesses the perfect body. That’s why women follow her every step.”

  Aphrodite spun, bent and shook her rear. The group of women followed. Hermes turned away, feeling nauseated at the imperfect mortal rears.

  “They will never have a body even remotely like Aphrodite’s,” Hermes interjected.

  “That’s the point,” Zeus smiled. “They will spend hours, days, years, sculpting their bodies, not realizing mortality is simply a slop of cheap clay. That perfection they are looking for will never happen. It’s good for business. Come, let me show you around.”

Zeus placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him to a new area. A sweaty mortal, tongue dancing out of its mouth, staggered on a gigantic cartwheel as his belly flopped up and down.

“But— but that’s for hamsters!”

“Lower your voice,” Zeus whispered. “You don’t want humans to realize that.”

They passed the stretch of giant cartwheels until they reached the runners’ station. Zeus stopped. Large smelly toes, protruded from under one of the treadmills.

“Hephaestus,” Zeus announced. “We’ve got a visitor.”

The toes slipped from under the treadmill, and a gigantic form rose. Twice the size of Zeus, Hephaestus had to bend to avoid the ceiling fans.

The friendly giant met him with a smile. He hadn’t seen him in centuries! But to be fair, it wasn’t easy visiting someone living under the crater of a volcano.

“Hephaestus,” Zeus said, grimacing at the giant’s toes, “How many times will I have to tell you to wear shoes when you come to work?”

The giant ignored the comment and turned to Zeus’ companion. “Hermes, hi!”

Hermes gave him a half-wave. Ages ago, when they’d gone to a mortal bar on the whims of Dionysus, Hephaestus had tried hugging him in his drunken stupor. They barely managed to bring him back from the dead thanks to a hospital bed and a painfully pointed needle injecting ambrosia into his veins.

“Hephaestus is our repair technician,” Zeus said. “Helps us with any machine glitches.”

Clank. The sound came from the far end of the room.

“You miserable scumbag!” a rowdy voice shouted. “You’re a worm, a piece of sand that talks and is likely to die soon!” In a sleeveless shirt, the screaming god Ares, paced next to a rack of dumbbells. One massive arm pointed accusingly at an old wrinkly mortal who lay on his back, spread-eagled, hands trembling from a large weight he’d just dropped to the floor. Ares’ boot pressed against the man’s bony ribs. “Useless excuse of a mortal. Is this how you want to train at Gods’ Gym? Two hundred reps. Is that too much to ask for? Too much for your lowly kind?”

“He’s a douche,” a female voice said behind Hermes. “Works the crap out of them.” Distracted, he turned, recognizing goddess Athena. Her bored eyes protected by thick-rimmed glasses contemplated a moment the embarrassing scene. “Care for a smoke?” she said, producing one from her medical coat.

“Watch your language, Athena,” Zeus said politely.

“And how come he gets to swear like that?”

“He’s the physical trainer. It’s Ares’ favorite training method. Pushes humans to their very limits.”

“Sure. He makes a great motivational coach,” Athena said, rolling her eyes, then puffing a smoke ring.

“She’s the nutritionist?” Hermes asked. Zeus nodded.

“See you around,” Hermes said, turning to Athena. She simply dragged on her cigarette, till it all turned to a worm of charcoal, then tapped the ashes into the marble floor with her white boot.

“What a happy bunch,” Hermes said to Zeus. Was this his father’s idea of making good business? He’d never seen a sadder bunch of gods. Not since the older days when things were better and—.

“She’s the goddess of wisdom,” Zeus replied. “She naturally overthinks things.”

    “And that makes her unhappy?”

Zeus shrugged. “Let’s move along.”

  They entered a short corridor to the men’s locker room. A man with a drooping mustache, stood next to the sinks, glaring endlessly at his reflection.

“The mirrors,” Zeus whispered, “are magically designed to magnify human imperfections.”

The man frowned. “I’ve got a zit the size of my head!”

“Calm down, mortal friend,” Zeus said, with an overreacted smile. “This is why you’re here: to be all you can be!”

“But—,”

“Go see our nutritionist,” Zeus said absently, “Her rates are cheap.” The god of gods seemed distracted by the sound of awful gargling in the showers.

Zeus’ face tightened, eyes darting toward the noise. “Come with me,” he said, and Hermes for a second thought he saw dark clouds looming in the ceiling above.

  “Father, is it really bad for a human to gargle in the shower?”

“That’s no human gargling. That’s Poseidon again, trying to sing.”

Zeus pulled open the shower curtain. The naked sea god held a gold trident in one hand, a bar of soap in the other, and a rubber duck float at his waist.

“Poseidon! What are you doing!” Zeus’ voice boomed.

“Always wanted to know what these human floating devices felt like,” Poseidon said. “Look, it squeaks when I try to squeeze it.”

“Stop the nonsense,” Zeus said, arms crossed. “How many times have I told you these showers are exclusively for clients?”

“You know how much I miss—,”

“Stop your ocean nostalgia, grab a towel and get back to work.”

  Hermes turned toward Zeus. “What does he do here?”

“Takes care of the showers, toilets and water-related issues. Last week we had an incident with a mermaid that seduced and then bit an arm off of one of our clients. Poseidon’s supposed to take care that doesn’t happen again. But it surely will if he’s wasting business hours in the shower.”

“I miss home,” Poseidon frowned.

  “You ought to be fired,” a voice hissed. With grimy hands, bald-headed Hades gripped his old broom and shook his head. “I end up doing all of Poseidon’s work, even the toilets—while he does nothing!”

  “Hades,” Zeus said. “I am sure your life here is much better than in the Underworld.”

  “I’d rather live a million times over in the Underworld than have to clean human crap from toilets!” Hades raged. “I expect a raise.”

  “We should get going,” Zeus said, placing a hand on Hermes.

From the locker room they walked out to the gym’s cafeteria. Just a few paces away, through the glass walls, one could see the tired women still there, flailing their tired arms in imitation of Aphrodite’s restless perfection.

  “You must be thirsty,” Zeus said. “Here you can see a list of our beverages.”

Hermes glared at the chart:

Orange Juice – For all ages.

Hard Protein Shake – 18 and up.

Ambrosia Shake – 120 and up.

“You get it?” Zeus roared in laughter.

“Get what?”

“It’s a god joke I devised. The Ambrosia Shake. Only people older than 120 can drink it.”

“So?”

“So…” Zeus said, expecting a reaction, “that means no human will ever get to drink it!”

Hermes shook his head. Not a soul stood in the cafeteria.  “I thought Dionysus would be happy to handle this.”

“Dyonysus is a bum. He used to come in drunk and was terrible for business. I fired him. Literally,” Zeus said as glowing thunder appeared under his closed fist.

“So,” Hermes said, “the reason you brought me here is because you want me to take over Dionysus’ cafeteria job?”

“No,” Zeus said, meeting his eyes. “We are actually looking for a salesperson. Someone who can help us capture as many human clients as possible. We figured you are the perfect god for that, considering how good you are at deceit.”

“But why? Why a gym? All the gods seem so unhappy.”

“Because,” Zeus said with eyes aflame, “materialism is humanity’s new god.”

7 Powers That Will Corrupt Your Life

After watching dozens of superhero films, I’ve often wondered how real flesh human beings would turn out if they gained super powers. Would they truly be an example of morality and righteousness like they show in Hollywood films? My second novel to date, The Stone Collector, defies this norm. Seven individuals obtain different super powers from seven mystical gemstones.

Just take a look at these powers and see if you, as a flawed human being would use these stones for “righteousness’ ” sake.

#1 Midas Stone 

I’m sure the name gives it away. And yes, in The Stone Collector, it is mentioned that perhaps King Midas himself got a hold of this stone and that’s how he got his power to turn whatever he touched into gold. In this case, the Midas stone’s power evolves into something much more powerful and deadly.

#2 Silver Stone

Gives the user the ability to travel through mirrors and yes, there’s a hidden reference in the book that shows that perhaps Lewis Carroll, author of Alice in Wonderland,  had at one time owned this stone. Imagine if you could just excuse yourself from a boring dinner party, enter the bathroom, and just leap into a mirror to get out at a wild party in Amsterdam. Of course, there’d have to be another mirror for you to pop out of, but mirrors these days are everywhere.

#3 Soul Stone

Whoever gets this stone will acquire Knowledge. What kind it is would spoil the book so I will keep this to myself. As Francis Bacon said, “Knowledge is power,” and this is why I’m keeping the knowledge of the Soul Stone’s true power secret.

#4 Angel Stone

Gives its user the power to talk to spirits. Can you imagine what you could do with this? Perhaps you could get all your unanswered questions answered? Or would these answers come with a price? Bargaining with spirits is not an easy feat. And it’s hard to trick and gain the upper hand of those who’ve had a few centuries more to practice.

If this were its only power, the Angel Stone would be a powerful tool. But it also gives the user the ability to live without the need of food, water, or sleep. Yes, you are still a mortal, and you’d still die, but imagine the possibilities of having full 24 hour days at your disposal.

#5 Healing Stone

This is a simple one. Or at least, it appears that way. You touch someone, he or she gets healed of everything: scars, diseases, wounds or some chronic ailment. Perfect right? What could go wrong with such power? Perhaps nothing… unless… unless  it falls in the hands of a professional assassin.

#6 Dark Stone

This one is the polar-twin of the Healing Stone. Also known as the ‘touch of death’. Shake hands with your best friend, your uncle, your brother, and they are dead. Perhaps the professional assassin would have been happy to have this power. But AGAIN, things don’t always end in the right hands.

#7 Emerald Stone

You’d think growing all sorts of plant life is the lamest of powers. You’d think growing flowers and trees is in for a yawning session. But what if you want to use your power to find love. Will you find it?

What if you are being persecuted? Will you run away or will it give you a fighting chance? Don’t underestimate the power of the Emerald Stone.

———-

As a regular human being, what would you do with any of such powers?

If you want to read more about The Stone Collector, you can find the book HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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