Mythology Stories Novels & Stories

I am afraid but I must fuel my curiosity. My fingers trail over books as I use my eyes to search. “History of the Great Wars. Wolf-Clan Genealogies.” Useless!! In a corner, I find a smaller shelf with older, cracked bindings. One title stands out: Creatures of Myth and Scarcity. I pull it free, coughing at the plume of dust, and sink to the floor in a pool of blue velvet. I open it. Swan Mythology. It is exactly what I am looking for.

If she walked in now, I might have finished what my wolf wanted earlier. A heavy silence settled. Then one elder, grey-haired, scarred across the cheek, eyes too alert for his age, finally spoke. “What was that?” he asked, voice low. Not curiosity. Fear. His question wasn’t what happened? His question was what have we awoken? Another elder answered before Ethan could. “The myths,” she whispered. “The stories we told pups so they wouldn’t wander too close to the barrier.” A third elder, older than the rest, cane in hand, leaned forward slowly.

I just hope I do not have a reason to run because I do not think I would make it far. “Ratatoskr, I remember my dad used to tell me a story about you. He said you would run up and down the tree exchanging insults between Nidhogg on the bottom of the tree up to Vedfolnir on the top. You gossiped between yourselves about the Gods and people of the nine realms. It was my brother’s favorite story. Are those myths we tell on Earth true or are they just make believe?” We kept walking at a comfortable pace, weaving between the roots and coming to a clearing with a spring on the other side opposite from us. The roots stop here though, and I do not think I can go any further without ending this inter

Asking about it again was like setting herself up for a teasing Kihara cleared her head. Lady Walter was talking. “Humans have their myths and folklores.” Lady Walter was saying. Kihara nodded, smiling as her thoughts caught up to the new topic. Werewolves used to be one of those myths, until they -humans- found out the creatures are not only born of the imagination, they actually existed. “Well, so do werewolves.” At Kihara’s look of surprise, Lady Walter scoffed. “What? You don’t think we have our own stories that we tell our children? Every culture has it’s own boogie man to scare the kids into behaving. We had ours.”

He has a wife for crying out loud. "So let's continue from where we stop." Grace said when she saw the handsome newcomer wasn't staring at her. "What's a Myth?" "A traditional story, especially one concerning the early history of a people or explaining some natural or social phenomenon, and typically involving supernatural beings or events." One of the students answered. "That's very nice definition of Myth John." Grace said smiling at John. "So who can explain more of Myth functions?"

Each telling of the tale varies, but the central theme is always that of a sea witch or sorceress who finds or kidnaps a beautiful girl, and raises her until fate intervenes in the form of a young man. Of particular interest to students of Celtic mythology is the male character, a romantic yet disruptive force. He is always depicted as either a seductive demon in the form of a beautiful young man, or a celestial angel, a pirate, a faery prince or a chivalrous knight. In light of this, the myth is notable for its connection to the band of heroes known by several names (most commonly the Fiacha Rudraigh or the Fianna) – a group of five warrior princes who appear in the Mythological, Ulster and

“Do you like fantasy?” “Like dragons and Lord of the Rings stuff? No. I don’t think of the Greek gods as fantasy. I think of them as history.” He looked surprised. “So, you believe in it all?” I shrugged. “I don’t know that I don’t believe in it. I think you have to wonder where the stories came from. Every myth stems from something. What sparked the stories? And it is so elaborate. It would have taken a mastermind to just make up this whole world of people and give them each a story.”

Was she getting worked up? “It used to be,” Lilith continued, her voice taking on a harsher edge. “The gods walked among us. They would sit with us around the fire and tell us stories. Some were real. Some weren’t. As the gods stopped coming around, the oldest humans took over reciting the stories. We humans loved our stories. Over the ages, we realized the power in them. People changed their behavior to act like the heroes in the stories. Some the villains. Some tellers tried changing the stories or telling new ones, and the listeners changed their behavior to match. The tellers learned how easy it was to control the people simply by telling a story. While I was away, the men started tellin

He gave me a soft smile, making me return a shy smile. “You know, in Greek mythology, Althaia was the Queen of Calydon, and a woman of fierce passion. She is celebrated in an ancient story about the fate of her son, Meleager. When he was born, the Moirai, or the Fates in English, came to foretell his future, and they predicted he would die as soon as one of the sticks in the fireplace burned out completely. When Althaia heard that, she pulled the stick from the fire, put the fire out, and hid it in a safe place.”

When I started reading them, practically giving up on it and dressing up as a ghost (with a sheet on my face) - I was surprised. What was annoying and frustrating in mortal tales, was magnificent in the ancient tales of gods and higher beings. The love of Kali and Shiva, where the sight of her love at her feet made her awaken from her madness; the way even death bowed to love - Persephone and Hades; the tragic end of Apollo who seemed cursed by love, having to lose those whom she loved again and again. Those were stories worth reading, but among all those, there were many others.