Love, Not War ( or else )

Love, Not War ( or else )

I once had to interpret a myth as a very short modern flasher. I chose Kali and Raksabija. It’s worth tracking down a good retelling of this story.  And I love this artist’s amazing portrayal of Kali.  The image links to his deviantart site.



Sweat dotted every councilman’s temple.


Each one riveted with dread, their eyes on the president.

“You have to call, Sir. We’ve exhausted all else.”

The president sighed into his palm, fingers pressing the image of the unthinkable alternative from his skull. He picked up the receiver.


“Mom? We need you to save the world. They’re killing us.”


Instantly the earth roiled, thundering fury singed the air. Even the dust parted in terror when Maha Kali appeared, covered in black clay, wild hair whipping her hips. By lunchtime she had severed heads, drunk their blood, and swallowed dry bones whole.


She was intoxicated with destruction; no god or victory could tame her madness. Desperate, the president made one more call.

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