OG |In-House News Director
Nikki Crump-Hansted is a professionally trained actress from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. She’s been writing short stories and telling tall tales since she was very young. Nikki is currently one of the original Gods of the Pantheon. She not only writes for the Goddess Nike, but also does her voice, as well as the voices for many of the characters she has written in the blog. Follow her on Twitter @CrumpHansted
| Original God (OG) - Charter member of In The Pantheon |
All three of us walked on in silence for a while. We were caught up in our thoughts, remembering these horrid things that I couldn’t fix or do over. I felt defeated, even more now that I saw all I could have prevented. It was a shame I would forever carry.
The sun was warm, and the air smelled of the sea. I knew this place. It was the hill above my childhood home. The grasses were green, and the bougainvillea was in full bloom. The air was crisp and a mist of sea salt was on the breeze.
It was only a dream. I turned back to the sea and sat on the ground, bringing my knees to my chest. My wings opened, and I wrapped them around myself. It started to rain, which seemed fitting. I wiped at my face, trying to clear the hurt and sorrow I felt at the loss of something, no, someone so dear to me.
I shared how the party was like most gatherings until the chanting started and the mirrors glowed. Fresh memories flooded my mind, and I told them about him. The one I loved, or she loved, I didn’t know. I explained the passion between us and how it made me feel.
I locked my gaze with his, and the hunger and need in his eyes so matched my own that it shoved me over the edge. I slid my hand from beneath his and placed it against his chest. Then, never breaking eye contact, I pushed him back onto the bed.
He knew about my trust issues. He knew the pain, and he knew all about the trauma of before. He had my trust. He had shown me another way, a way to unleash the woman in me. I felt him shift on top of me, and my thoughts were back in the moment.
“Mademoiselle, nous atterrirons à Paris dans environ 30 minutes.” I heard over the PA system on the private jet. I opened the shade, and there she was, the most beautiful city in all the world. Paris. The sun was just rising behind us.
Funny how you just never know what’s really in a book until you crack it open and look inside. Bob was just like that. He was a gentle giant, a hard worker, a good husband, and a father. He’s going to need more than his strength alone to fix this situation.
His cheerful smile was infectious. He always had a tune to hum, and for as big as he was, he could dance along the loading dock as smoothly as any dancer. Everyone liked him. He’d been working for us for about a year now, and I loved it when I worked in the shop on delivery day.
How am I going to tell my mother? This past year had been such a whirlwind of events that I hadn’t had the time or seen a clear enough path to approach her. Between the Titan attack, Dad’s coma, and then Mom being gone, then returning. What am I gonna say?
I watched how you handled everything that came your way with dignity and grace. I saw your tears, and I saw your joy. I wanted to grant you these Victories today. The first a life worth saving, the second for the lives you saved, and the third for what gives your life true meaning, your family. Thank you. You’re a true hero and champion in my book.
I picked up one of my shields. I had just written Bethany’s name on the inside and hung it back on my wall. Snorting a laugh, I thought to myself, Thanks for the reminder, Brother. Sitting in my chair and looking at the shields on the walls, I reminisced about the thousands upon thousands of victories I had given.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how many people were suffering through this virus. So many had lost their jobs. I needed to do something to bring Victories back to them. I had the beginning of an idea, but I needed to flesh it out more.
This table is set for one, symbolizing some are missing from our ranks. The white tablecloth is for the purity of their intentions for freedom for all. A single red rose is for the blood they shed. A slice of lemon on the plate for the bitterness of their fate. Salt on the plate for all the tears shed for them. An inverted glass cause they can not toast with us. And the empty chair because they are not here.