The Day Mars Fell

Heaven did not anger. It watched. Then it took action.

"To me you are the most hateful of all the gods who hold Olympus. Forever quarrelling is dear to your heart, wars and battles."

— Homer, The Iliad

Mars had turned renegade.

That's what the scientists were calling it. That's what the newsreaders introduced it as: like a scandal, like a plot twist in an ages-old cosmic drama. It started just over three years ago, when something bizarre began to happen around Jupiter. One by one, its moons fell—Metis first, Adrastea second—into a dark death spiral nobody could quite comprehend. Nine satellites lost. Devoured. Forgotten.

Then Saturn's orbit strayed. Slightly at first. Enough to set off alarms in observatories but not headlines.

And then came Mars.

The red planet did not stray. It roamed. Purposefully. Unnaturally. Toward Earth.

The world said it was science. But Connor knew better. So did the poets and the ancients. Mars was a god. And now, he was coming home.

It was 107 outside when Connor entered their apartment, the air stagnant, the quiet oppressive. Tess was still asleep even though daylight seeped through the bedroom blinds. The pill bottle on her nightstand spoke a silent message. Fourteen yesterday. Eight today.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Tess…"

She stirred, managed a weak smile, and rolled away from him.

Just… let me sleep a bit more. I don't want to think about it. Any of it."

Connor left her be. But he pulled the blinds all the way open before he went out.

He scrounged around the kitchen for something he could eat. Supply chains had collapsed in recent weeks. Supermarket shelves were bare. But he did find some eggs, a little ham, some cheese. Enough to make omelets. He cracked six eggs and figured he would make two plates. Just in case hope was still in the equation.

The TV was already on. A talking head droned in the background as he cooked.

“Tonight’s the night. By midnight EST, we’ll know if this ends in fireworks or oblivion. NASA says it’s still likely Mars will slingshot past us—close, but harmless. If so, it’ll be the greatest celestial light show in human history. If not… well, we’ll know soon enough.”

Connor didn't laugh at the optimism. He scorned. As if anyone knew. As if the people in charge would tell the truth if the end was unavoidable. Panic isn't profitable.

He hailed Tess again.

She came in ten minutes behind, thinner than she'd ever been, chain-smoking once more after four clean years. She picked at her food, half-eating, half-existing. He put on The Clash to drown out the sirens screaming through the city outside. London Calling filled the air.

"They're all going to the park tonight," she said between drags. "Missy, James. I saw it on Instagram. To watch it."

Connor shook his head. "Too many people. And if something does happen… "

"Do you think it will?"

"I don't know. I hope not." He paused. "Let's go up to the roof. Just the two of us."

She nodded. No arguments.

Later, after beers and an old black-and-white art movie neither of them understood, Connor awakened Tess and took her to the stairs. He paused at the bedroom en route to collect his 9mm from its hiding spot. Just in case.

The roof was more crowded than he'd hoped. But still better than the chaos erupting in the park. Connor guided Tess to a private corner and opened their beach chairs. The sky was dark. But not empty.

Mars loomed—huge, red, unreal. And coming closer. Closer. The air vibrated with it.

Tess took two more pills. He gently pried the bottle from her hand. Four left now.

"They won't fill this again for a while," he whispered. "If there's still a pharmacy."

"Maybe it won't matter," she whispered, eyes fixed upward.

She might have been right.

Birds were the first to lose their pattern—flocks circling and returning, then circling some more. Dogs barked from every corner of the city. Sirens. Then fireworks.

No. Not fireworks.

Gunshots.

Connor didn't flinch. Neither did Tess.

He checked his phone. No signal. No news. No hope.

He remembered what the Greeks believed—that Ares wasn't a god to be worshipped, but feared. The Romans had made Mars a god. But the Greeks understood war wasn't glory—it was chaos.

And this god was angry.

Connor looked up at the sky. Mars was drawing closer. Not metaphorically. Not metaphorically. Literally. You could feel it now, like the slow twist of a knife. Deep in the gut.

He heard muffled sobbing from elsewhere on the rooftop. He watched as people came and went quietly.

Tess dozed in her chair beside him, her body so small beneath the blanket.

Connor's hand went to the pistol in his lap. Not from fear. Not from anger. But readiness.

If this was war, they never stood a chance.

Above, Mars throbbed—red and terrible, a god long forgotten, finally ready to be heard.

Connor took one last breath, eyes fixed on the sky, and thought:

They should've named you Ares.

The End

BY Products Woman