A Joyful Path: Creative Journeys

Hercules is a demigod, the son of Zeus, the ruler of all gods, and Alcmene, a human princess of Mycenae. Zeus, the ever-indulgent and cunning ruler, disguised himself as Alcmene’s husband and seduced her. 

Hera, Zeus’s loyal wife, heard of his betrayal, she despised his unfaithfulness and deception. Hera lost all self-control, unleashing her wrath upon everything in her path. She would punish Hercules, Zeus’s bastard son. He would feel her pain!             

Hera created a potion that would send Hercules mad. She slipped the potion into Hercules’ water. When Hercules returned home, he drank the water, and within seconds the potion had taken effect. Lost in a mad state, Hercules brutally attacked his beloved wife Megara. When Hercules awoke from the effects of the potion, he realised what he had done. In complete despair, he glanced at Megara’s lifeless body, tears cascaded down his face. Hercules' despair rapidly turned into hate, his whole body radiated with a menacing anger and desperation.   

Hades, the god of the underworld, who’s opportunist nature was well known, heard of Hera’s jealous tantrum, and came to Hercules to strike a deal. He offered to keep Megara’s soul from making the last journey to the ferryman, if Hercules delivered the Staff of Asclepius. Hades explained that his wife Persephone, aggrieved with his immense power and greatness, had thrown herself into the river of souls. Persephone’s mother then cursed the earth with a plague for her loss. Hades expressed his frustration at the inconvenient influx of souls entering the underworld. With the Staff of Asclepius, he would resurrect Persephone and lift the plague. Hercules agreed, seeing the opportunity to have Megara back, his heart felt hopeful. 

Hercules sought out Asclepius, and after hearing Hercules’ story, Asclepius agreed to help Hercules if he proved his worth by completing twelve labours to help humanity. Asclepius cautioned Hercules that he must complete these labours with a pure heart to access the power of the Staff. Hercules agreed without hesitation. He would do anything to have his beloved back.

Hercules completed all of Asclepius’ labours with strength, courage, and resilience, but as he completed each task, his humanity and love for Megara eroded. He basked in the glory of fame and heroism, every woman chased him, and every man wanted to be him. Obsessed with power and glory, he returned to Asclepius with a new intention. Instead of resurrecting Megara, he would keep the Staff to control humanity while the curse raged on. 

A now unrecognisable soul in a familiar skin approached Asclepius. Hercules demanded the staff, showing evidence that he had completed all twelve tasks. Asclepius agreed and handed Hercules the Staff, knowing the fate of those who try to use it without a pure heart. 

Hercules held the Staff out like a hero, he waved it at the people who were begging him for help from the plague, but as he tried to use the Staff, it transformed into a snake, it hissed, and lunged at Hercules, sinking its teeth into his arm, instantly injecting its venom. Hercules dropped the Staff as his vision blurred, his heart beat rapidly, he staggered, falling to his knees. He knew he was dying, suddenly he thought of Megara, and how he had lost his way. He felt deep sorrow and the bitter pain of regret as his life slowly slipped away. 

The sound of a familiar voice awakened Hercules. Hades stood looking down at him, with the Staff of Asclepius in his hand and Persephone by his side. “So, you tried to deceive me,” Hades said with a knowing smirk. “Welcome to the Underworld!”

Copyright 2025, © Angela Deaves, All rights reserved

1993, the old schoolhouse. I hate these old school walls that have become my jail. 

The walls must have seen so many people come and go. The old, green-stained carpet, the smell of lavender vacuum perfume used to hide the many odours and spills, its offensive to my senses, my hand is often found, shielding my nose and mouth from this unfortunate reality. This room must be some kind of health hazard. “Yuck.” 

The small, round wall clock near the doorway is my greatest enemy. It’s slow, laborious ticking, laughs at my discomfort every time I shift impatiently in my chair, or glance its way. There is nothing loving or pleasant here, so why do I have to be here every day. Only six more years left, and then I will finally be able to make my own decisions. I hate this place, I don’t care about anyone here. I just want peace, away from all the drama and masks that teachers use to hide their own damaged hearts. I see right through all of you.

I hear laughter coming from down the hall. Someone thinks something funny has happened, but I highly doubt it, funny in this place usually means belittling someone else. At least the sun is out. It’s a warm summer day. Soon I will head outside to eat my apple, and feel the sun’s radiant warmth on my face, breathe in the fresh air. 

I could plan a great escape. The teacher isn’t here now, maybe if I forge a note from mum, claiming I have an appointment to attend, and leave it on her desk, I can finally be free. I will walk to the park, near my house that feels more like a place where kids with crushed dreams go to soothe their souls. Oh well, I will swing on the swing, I love the feeling of the breeze on my face, the dip in my belly when I go a little higher than I should, when the chains jar, and I am nearly unseated, only to swing again, and feel the breeze kiss my cheek. 

It feels like, freedom.

Copyright 2025, © Angela Deaves, All rights reserved

They all went there, to the river, to be freed of their sins, as if being dunked in the water could truly wash away all the horrible things they had done in their lives, hypocrites. Some drunks, some abusers and some just wanting to start again, but all hoping for forgiveness, all hoping that they could erase the pain they had caused, and maybe even pain that someone had imposed on them. 

Every Sunday a new group of ‘sinners’ roll up to be absolved of their actions. I see them on my walk home from work, and all I feel is anger. I grew up with one of these “kinds” of people, my mother, a complete train wreck, selfish woman, a gambler. My sister Aria and I, often had no food and had to fend for ourselves, sometimes stealing food from the local store to survive. As soon as I was able, I got a job to support us, ironically at the same local store. Luckily my mother was too busy elsewhere to notice, or I am sure she would have come looking for the little money I make. 

“Lucy, where are you?” Aria was calling out to me. She often waited for me by the old willow tree, 200 meters from our house. “I am here”, I yell and wave as I pick up the pace. She loved seeing me after work. I think she gets lonely waiting for me to come home. 

“Hey, how was your day?” I said, she smiled and looked at my backpack. “Good, good” she said, clearly distracted, and trying to see if my bag looked bigger than when I left this morning. “Come on, Lucy, did you bring anything home?” I smiled cheekily at her, “What do you mean?” “Like what?” I said, as I smiled and laughed a little, giving myself away. “You did!” “What did you bring me?” she said, smiling with excitement. I stopped walking and reached into my bag, and pulled out and oversized chocolate bar. “Oh My God!” “You are the best Luce,” “I love you forever,” she said jumping and snatching the chocolate bar, “I know” I said, we both laughed, holding hands as we walked home. 

As we arrive home, the feeling of dread creeps in. “She hasn’t come home, has she?” I ask, “Who?” “Mum?” “No,” Aria said, shaking her head while eating some of the chocolate bar, “good.” I say and exhale, relaxing. I am tired and need to relax. Even though it has been nearly a year since we last saw Mum, I still cannot shake the feeling that one day she will turn up and create havoc in our now calm home. 

“What about the landlord, Mr Peterson? Has he called again?” “Nope”, Aria said. “He hasn’t called back since you spoke to him last week and requested an extension to pay the rent.” Mr Peterson often mistook my voice for my mother’s on the phone, so I just kept that little misunderstanding going. I shiver when I think what will happen to us if he finds out that Mum has not been here for a long time. 

“What about Tim? Has he come back?” I asked, Aria shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen their car today”. Tim was our neighbour and my friend from school. We had graduated college together, their family had gone away for the weekend. His mother, Heidi, knew about our absent mother, she often bought extra food home from her shift at the bakery and sent it over with Tim when he came to visit. I felt immense gratitude but also shame for having to accept it, but it is not just about me and how I feel. I have Aria to look after, and she is only 17.  

Copyright 2025, © Angela Deaves, All rights reserved