Short stories | Through space | English & Dutch |

Godmother Artemis

No one believes in the old, Greek gods anymore. It's an extinct religion. The gods themselves haven't quite gotten over this and don't know exactly how this has happened. What they do know? They are bored. Very. Very. Bored.

My parents named me Apollo. My mom is a history teacher and my dad works in literature-sciences, both specialised in, you guessed it, old Greece. This is how they met and to this day it's the reason why they are together. Anecdotes and references to Greek myths during arguments is a common phenomenon here.

So it didn't surprise anyone that they named me Apollo. What did come as a surprise, was that they named Artemis as godparent. Not a human named Artemis, one that is registered to a town and has a citizen servicenummer, but THE goddess Artemis. What would've been an even bigger surprise, would they have known, is that Artemis takes this calling very seriously. My parents would've freaked out, had they known. They just picked her as godparent because they didn't want to hurt anyone and wanted to keep any tension out of their circle of friends.

But seriously, it's up to annoying how involved Artemis wants to be. It's that I know she doesn't have a lot of other things to do, without her hunters and the prayers directed to her and whatnot. So I let her do what she loves to do: giving her opinion on about every aspect of my life.

I can't remember the first time I saw Artemis. She has always just kind of been there, around and about. My parents knew for sure I had an imaginary friend, when they heard me laugh in my room or heard a second voice (they told me I was really good in mimicking voices, especially that particular one). When I was ten, I began to doubt, maybe she really was imaginary. I started thinking about this, my blanket wrapped around me and tears streaming down my face. Because what if I couldn't see my best friend anymore? What if it would stop? Am I crazy, if I have an imaginary friend? And like that, she suddenly was there, in my room, like she always did. She sat down next to me and asked me what was going on. Slightly offended about my doubt - even though she concealed it as much as she could - she proved that she was real, by ringing our doorbell. I called for my mom and told her someone was at the door, and I waited in suspense. But it was real: my mom said she had heard the door, came out of our living room and opened the door. And Artemis stood there: with her jeans and grey hoodie with print and clipboard, asking my mom if she had time to participate in an enquete about the influence of old Greece on the present time (of course Artemis had grabbed this opportunity with both hands and got the best out of it, steering the conversation to... Artemis). My mom was taken aback for a split second, because human form or not, Artemis is gorgeous, but she quickly recovered and enthusiastically joined in conversation. Said that it was such a coincidence that of all houses she had come to ours. She called for my father to join them as well. With the three of them they talked for at least an hour. I watched from the stairs. Artemis winked at me before she left, and as a test I questioned my parents about the conversation. In case my imagination was so wild I could imagine an hour long conversation with real life parents. But it was real. Artemis was the real goddess. And my godmother. And a big meddler.

When my mom put clothes out for me, she always changed at least one thing. My parents thought I was stubborn. I didn't dare to tell them that no, I am not the one who is stubborn, that would be Artemis. When it was time to look for a daycare or school, there would miraculously be a flyer about it in the mailbox. Artemis wasn't too pleased when her pick of a primary school didn't follow through. When I was forced to play with an annoying boy from school, his bike would suddenly be broken, and he couldn't play anymore, had to go home instead... what a shame. I high-fived Artemis on the way to my own bike.

In my teenage years I became a bit too aware of Artemis. And her beauty. I got shy towards her, dodged or ignored her. She let it happen. Told me whisperingly that we had enough time, that life was rich of memories and she would always be there for me would I need her. She kept her distance. But I saw her often, on the side of the soccer-field, holding back if I fell or got pushed over. Or in the school canteen when I laughed with my classmates with a bitter face about my own stupidities, while she walked by as a pretend parent. Or when I asked Anna out and she rejected me. Or when I asked Demi, and I took her on a date to McDonalds. Or when I took long walks in the park, telling my parents I was with friends or even girls, while I was just thinking, over and over and over. When I was uncomfortable in my own body. When I looked at girls and started wondering things.