Zeus was the most powerful god, he has two brothers. Hade was the eldest and Poseidon was the middle brother.
Zeus has appointed a woman to bring justice to the world, her name was Justitia.
Hade was not very happy that his brother appointed a woman to bring justice to Olympus. Justitia have a way of being unbiased / impartial unless she was greatly influenced. Hades was very arrogant, he decided to seduced Justitia to do his bending.
Hades disguised himself to get Justitia from making right decisions and to controlled Mount Olympus.
Hades explain and taught Justitia many wrong things but in a believable way. Many people was mislead from Justitia decisions that was greatly influenced by Hades.
Hades had accumulated a lot of people during Justitia bad judgement making.
Zues finally intervened, “dear daughter Justitia what happen, why is justice not prevailing in your court, child. Did your mother, not teached you well?”
“ I have a new mentor who knows so much about justice.” Justitia answered.
“ But we lost a lot of people to my brother Hades, why is that?” he asked her.
“ Greetings my brother, Zues. I have been teaching Justitia.” Hades told Zues.
About the Creator
Mariann Carroll
Proactive for positive change.Born in the City of Chicago ,Illinois.
Multi race .Studied in a foreign country .Fluent in several languages .
fascinated by diversity.A Romantic and a dreamer.Interest in healthy living
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A Badge in the Smoke !
Dear Diary, 👋 Bye Bye David! Those were the last words Lena wrote before sliding the diary across the counter to the officials. She’d pressed the pen hard on that final line, then shut the book as if closing a door. She’d met David in the Hyatt Regency lobby during his medical conference. She was wiping the marble floor, eyes down, feeling the familiar ache of being alone in a place full of travelers. He’d asked for directions to the elevator, lingered, asked her name. Over the next three days they met in quiet corners — near the potted palms, at the service elevator — talking in low voices. He was polite, careful, always checking his watch. She felt seen, and also like she was living in the space between his words. When he left, he promised to write. They did, for a while, but the letters thinned out. Then ICE came to the hotel. Lena — whose real name was Christina Perraira — was taken across the border to Mexico. Rumors followed her: she’d escaped, she’d been taken by a cartel, a gang leader had offered her protection in exchange for favors, and she’d ended up in a trafficking case. No one could say which was true. Years passed. Christina lived under a new name, Ms. Alt, raising a child on her own. She never sent David an address. She kept the diary as proof that she had told him not to come. She never said the rule out loud, but everyone around her acted as if they knew it: *if you care for someone, you don’t chase them once they’ve asked you to stay away.* The hotel staff never gave David her forwarding information. The official who took her diary didn’t forward it. Even her sister, when David called from abroad, simply said, “She asked not to be found.” No one explained the rule; they just honored it. David never came. *Twenty-three years later, a different envelope arrived at Christina’s door.* Inside was not a letter, but a photocopy of David’s conference badge from 2003. On the back, in his handwriting: “Lena: if you ever read this, know I never stopped looking. I didn’t come because I wasn’t free to.” Below that, a second line in a different pen: “My wife died two winters ago.” Christina stared at the badge. No return address, no signature. Just the badge, the two lines, and the faint imprint of a hotel key card tucked beneath it. She never said the rule out loud, but everyone who knew Lena—later Christina, later Ms. Alt—acted as if they understood it: *if you care for someone, you don’t chase them once they’ve asked you to stay away.* The hotel staff never gave David her forwarding information. The official who took her diary didn’t forward it. Even her sister, when David called from abroad, simply said, “She asked not to be found.” No one explained it; they just honored it. Christina settled in a small town across the border, working as a caregiver at St. Clare’s senior home. Her final abode was a modest room above the kitchen, with a window that looked onto the courtyard and a thin mattress she’d learned to make quickly between shifts. She kept Lena’s diary tucked under the mattress, the last page still reading “👋 bye bye David!” One rainy Thursday a new resident was admitted for terminal care: David. The name caught her breath, but she didn’t say anything. His file listed no family, only a contact number that went to voicemail. She was assigned to his floor. He was frail, his voice softer than she remembered, and he wore the same habit of checking his watch even though time meant little now. She bathed him, brought him tea, sat with him when the pain spiked. He never asked her name; she never offered it. On his third night, he slipped a folded paper into her palm while she adjusted his blanket. It was a photocopy of his old conference badge from 2003. On the back, in his handwriting: _“Lena — if you ever read this, know I never stopped looking. I didn’t come because I wasn’t free to.”Below that, in a different pen: “My wife died two winters ago.” She recognized the handwriting instantly. The paper also had a hotel key card tucked inside. She stayed with him. He opened his eyes, looked at her face, and whispered, “Lena?” She nodded, tears slipping down. He reached for her hand; she held it. A few hours later, a kettle she’d left on the small kitchenette boiled dry, the coil overheated, and a small fire started. The smoke alarm wailed. Staff rushed in, got David out, but Christina went back for the diary under her mattress. The room filled with smoke before she could get out. They died the same night—David in the hallway on a gurney, Christina in her room above the kitchen. The diary was found charred at the edges, the final page still legible. The staff filed the incident, placed the diary in the home’s lost-and-found, and followed the rule without ever naming it: they didn’t try to trace who David had been to Lena/Christina. © conceptual right , March 30th, 2026 ✍️By Madhu Goteti P.S: A rose is a rose is a rose like a rule is a rule is a rule!
By Madhu Goteti about 23 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (9)
Awesome! And the snake slithers out of the shadows at the end! Love this! ❤️
I love mythology so this pulled at my heart strings immediately! I love the plot line and twists you created, I would love to see more of this. Overall it was a good read! I appreciate your creativity in this story!
This was a beautiful story. I love mythologies. What I love more, is how you used it to evocatively tell a lesson! Tres bon!
What a story wow!!
I've always been fascinated by Greek mythology but I've never heard of Justitia before. Did you make this up like how you made up that mermaids cannot sink ships if animals are on it? If yes, then you're like the most brilliant writer there is! If no, then I gotta brush up on my Greek Mythology knowledge, lol! Loved your story!
Oh this has so many parallels to the real world Great story Mariann
I have an eldest brother much like that, lol!
Dang, the Brother❗
Very interesting