Writing Mythology Novels & Stories

"Now, stop worrying about my finances and listen. Because I'm not here to just give you a fish. I'm here to teach you how to drain the ocean." I took a napkin from the cheap metal dispenser. "Your mistake," I began, pulling a pen from my pocket, "is that you think you wrote a movie. You didn't. You wrote a piece of mythology. A ghost story for the digital age. And you don't sell mythology by putting it on a poster. You sell it by making people believe it's real." His brow furrowed in confusion. "Like The Blair Witch Project?"

Banished to a land where the sky is always shrouded in darkness, and nothing grows, the same lands in which the Goddess banished the gods who wronged her and started the war to begin with. I perk up, leaning over the pages. Mate. At least one of the beasts had found their mate. I reread the page, looking for any clues as to why only one of them had a mate or if the other of the two had a mate as well. But the story ends, and the myth I know from childhood begins, detailing how the Goddess rewarded her followers with the gifts we still possess today, such as the ability to shift.

"You see before the gods of old heralded the storms to cast the wicked humans from his earth, wolves were as we always were. Sleek killers who hunted with packs, not mindless, but not burdened by the weight of awareness either. We were perfect before we became these upright furless mockeries of the man-apes that once ruled us. Despite being given everything they needed, humans still wanted more and, in their arrogance, sought the knowledge of the Goddess. They created crimes against the natural order of the world!" "So the Goddess punished those humans, brought the floods which we'd avoided when we escaped Arcadia. Created us to fill the void of worship. King Lycaon, the first of us—with his

"And then I watched you come out of that circle and I understood, finally, that we never wrote any of it down. Do you know why? Because the people who saw it didn't survive to write it. What we've got is the story told by the ones who ran." She turned her head. "You're the first of your kind anyone's laid eyes on in four hundred years, Maya Cole. And every wolf on this earth has spent that whole time being told a bedtime story about you." "What's the story?" "Depends who's telling it. In mine, you eat the moon." Odette shrugged one bony shoulder. "Which is a thing you say to a child who won't sleep. It isn't history. It's what's left when the history runs." A thin smile. "Congratulations. Yo

He would gladly have killed the red woman for that, yet what chance would he have where a master of the Garden had faile The burning gods cast a pretty light, wreathed in their robes of shifting flame, red and orange and yellow. His father had once told him how they'd been carved from the masts of the ships that had carried the first Longleafs from North Leafstone. Over the centuries, they had been painted and repainted, gilded, silvered, jeweled. "Their beauty will make them more pleasing to the King," Hadassah said when she told Moriah to pull them down and drag them out the castle gate But they all were just history then

She asked. “Um, it can be any myth, right? Anything?” I asked her to make sure. “Any myth can work but it should be mainly from Romans or Greeks” She cleared that for me. “Got it…” I said and leaned back smiling because I already had something in my mind.

Unfortunately this is an attitude that comes very late in the history of human development, and even then only to a small minority. Not only individuals but whole cultures feel a compulsion to offer answers when they don’t have any relevant facts. These stories, which are made up to cover gaps in our knowledge, are called myths. Probably the most all-pervasive myths are what are called creation myths, because (even today) nobody can really explain how the universe began, why there should be something rather than nothing, and yet it seems such a fundamental question that surely we must have SOME story to tell about it. The Bantu of Central Africa tell how in the beginning there was only darkn

looking at him, he looked back searching for something in my eyes and then finally nodded. “How did you guys become werewolves, I mean either you were humans or wolves or maybe you guys piss off a god-like most people say, like what’s the origin?” I was always curious about the origin of mythological creatures but there is no solid or concrete proof about how these things originated except for the fact that all of them were either tales to scare children or rumors or related to a god.

She scribbled notes furiously and drew little wolf paw prints in her book like a toddler. I almost laughed out loud. She was drawing her own doom and calling it cute. Halfway through the lecture I paused at the podium, letting silence settle like a net. “Many of you signed up for this elective because the mythology intrigued you,” I said, scanning faces. “But just to clarify, what we do here is based on myth, and fossils found, you would not be seeing werewolves or vampires, they are lore.” “What do you believe, Prof. Kane?” Someone asked, and I smiled showing off my perfect teeth. “I think we haven't just searched enough.”

Liora, her voice a gentle guide, began to narrate, "In the dawn of existence, realms were but a singular breath, a unified consciousness. But as time flowed, they sought identity and individuality. The Primordial, an entity birthed from the universe's first heartbeat, resisted this change, sought dominance..." As the tale unfurled, the guardians were drawn into the narrative, witnessing the birth of realms, the rise of guardians, and the age-old battle against The Primordial. The weight of their legacy, the mantle they now bore, became clear. The path ahead was treacherous, but with the Codex's wisdom and their unwavering bond, they were poised to confront the impending storm.