For Artemis
A year of whispered prayers. A forgotten Greek goddess. One wish that gets wildly out of hand.
Sophie wiped down the counter, her hands moving automatically after decades of the same routine. “For Artemis,” Sophie whispered for the 10,000th time as the last customer took their leave.
For a moment, nothing. Then—
A brilliant blaze of magenta erupted, flooding the whole of Carmarthen’s Bespoke Butchers in otherworldly light. The fluorescent bulbs overhead sputtered out. The walls, the counter, her own hands glowed with divine colour.
“Sophie of Carmarthen, daughter of mortals,” a voice both melodic and firm called out to her.
Sophie spun around, searching the empty shop. She squinted into the corners, heart quickening. Who had spoken?
Sophie was almost 60, though most mistook her for late 40s, something she never tired of hearing. What did show its age was her mind. She’d had a couple of loose screws since she began to praise Artemis, a Greek goddess, less than a year ago. Spiritually adrift, as her friends would put it, always promising with sympathetic smiles to pray for her return to the “true faith.”
She swiped at the light as if she were swatting a bee away, but the magenta glow hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, coalescing near the back of the shop. Sophie’s breath caught as a figure emerged. A woman stood before her. No, not a woman. The figure radiated power, her form both solid and shimmering, as if caught between worlds.
“Long has my name gone unspoken among mortals. Your devotion honours me.” The goddess extended her hands. “I am Artemis, goddess of the wild hunt. As you well know, faithful one.”
“Artemis...bloody hell,” Sophie muttered, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Goddess of the hunt, protector of wild beasts, the untamed—”
“And yet you honour me in a butcher’s shop,” Artemis observed, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Sophie laughed nervously. “Yes, well... seemed like someone ought to remember you.” She paused. “What can I do for you?”
“I require nothing of you,” Artemis said. “I have come to grant my favour, for your devotion throughout these turning seasons has not gone unseen. The beasts you have honoured in my name please me greatly. It has been many moons since a mortal called upon me, and for that, I stand ready to serve you.”
Sophie stared. A year of whispered prayers, and the goddess had actually answered.
“Now, Sophie of Carmarthen. What would you ask of me?” Artemis asked.
The goddess looked utterly out of place among the sterile counters and fluorescent lights. Artemis stood tall and athletic, silver bow slung across her shoulder, a quiver of arrows at her hip. Her dark hair was pulled back simply, no ornate braids or jewelry. Everything about her spoke of function, of readiness. Her eyes were fierce yet kind, holding the weight of forgotten centuries. Artemis belonged in moonlit forests, not a Welsh butcher shop. Yet here she stood, ancient and impossible and real.
Sophie had a tendency to blabber and speak the first thing that came to her mind. She was also three weeks from retirement. “I wish for you to instill consciousness in all the cows of Wales! No—all of Britain! All of Europe! Canada!” She threw her arms wide. “Every cow, everywhere! Let them roam free, wild and mad if they so choose.”
She looked around the butcher shop. “I know, I know. Rich coming from me. But after three decades in this shop, it seems only fair they get a chance, doesn’t it? It’s time for them to rise in the food chain!”
Artemis raised her brows at the request, then something in her expression shifted to something like approval, perhaps even relief. “You honour me with slaughter, yet wish for their freedom. There is honesty in that contradiction.” She nodded once, decisive. “Very well, Sophie. It is done.”
In fields across Wales, cows raised their heads. Then England. Scotland. Ireland. The wave spread from Switzerland’s Alpine meadows, Bavaria’s rolling hills, to the Netherlands’ flat pastures, across the Atlantic to Canada’s vast prairies. Everywhere cattle grazed, consciousness sparked.
This is how mad cow disease came to be.
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