|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2008 8:59 am
Trying To Reach Your EdenEros sent me here, eleven years ago....I wonder why I'm still dreaming about it, now.
Words: 402 Points: 4.02
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 12, 2008 8:35 am
When Newbies MeetMy first meeting with a godling....He was sweet and not at all what I thought a godling could be. I don't want to play, but I'd like to meet the others.Word Count: 497 Points Earned: 4.97
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2008 10:56 am
BACKDATED. Her head was curiously and strangely empty. It was a peculiar feeling, that of the absence of the warming presence that had been woven into her thoughts ever since she remembered. But, Eros had insisted that he was “busy,” and however reluctantly he felt about leaving, it was still an important part of being a god. He was vague on the details, but promised that he would return to her before nightfall. Shiri, never the clingy type, had cheerfully agreed to his “business trip.” He’d been gone for a good part of the morning, and afternoon approached with no sign of his coming.
Shiri was not, by a nature, a worrier. She was not easily rattled or made anxious. More and more, she was sensing that that was Eros’s doing rather than her own genetic predisposition, despite the combined personalities of her parents. She had fretted all morning, refusing to get out of her boat of a bed, even to see her parents off to work. Then, reasoning that routine would shake her out of this funk quicker than moping, she had bathed, dressed, and attempted to bake her signature cookies. But halfway through preheating the restored antique oven, Shiri suddenly had no interest in the process and mechanically cleaned up her many and haphazard preparations.
She found herself right where she had started: in bed, restlessly turning over between the pink sheets, mooning over Eros’s obvious and painful silence, wallowing like some twit who’d just been dumped on her a**. That shining angel depicted across her walls in paint (steadily progressing in beauty and skill in proportion to her age) was nowhere to be found except by staring into the painted face smiling from several renderings around her. The portraits held no candle to his actual beauty, and Shiri had the bizarre urge to rip the papers from the wall in sheer frustration.
She was with a mind to do just that when she was stopped by the sound of loud voices downstairs. Tiptoeing to the door of her room, she slowly slid it open, moving with silent grace despite her height to peek over the ledge of the second story. She could barely see the dusty work clothes of her parents, and her two sisters, not at all. But, oh could she hear the elder of the two.
“—so priceless! You have no idea what that thing could fetch! It’s almost a rare artifact and you’re just going to give it away?! To her?!” Mary Jane was howling at her adopted parents, the voice of hopes (or greed) frustrated and left for vain.Shiri saw Istra, her mother, exchange a glance with Lerato, her own husband and Shiri’s father. “Well…ya know how Shiri gobbles this stuff up….It’ll be a good gift.” Lerato’s voice was soothing and almost unconcerned, softened by drug use and the urge to wriggle out of a confrontation. “Isn’t her birthday coming up soon?”
“That was, like, five months ago.” Mary Jane snapped back.
More like eight, but hey, who was counting?Shiri could almost see the rapid blinking as Lerato digested the information that he was so off on his cherished daughter’s birth date. “Well, then, it’ll be a half-birthday present.” He shifted away from them, becoming fully visible to Shiri in her perch, ignoring the other girls of the family as he strode up the stairs to the second level living area.
Shiri scrambled for her room, not wanting to be discovered as witness to the scene of filial disorder, dimly hearing Istra cutting off Mary Jane’s protest by fair near ordering her and Celie to help prepare dinner. She threw her 5’ 11” frame through the door and onto the floor in order to look for all the world like she had been seriously contemplating the pink-and-white candy stripes of the ceiling.
“My little girl, my Shiri, my darlin’, you up here?” Lerato’s voice called through the bengara koushi before his dirt streaked face popped through the gap between the door jams, worried green eyes crinkling as they lit upon his daughter on the floor.
As if unknowing of his arrival, Shiri scrambled up, wide smile on her face. “Daddy! You’re back?”
An answering grin, almost exactly like hers (minus the crooked, off center aspect she had to hers) broke out on his face, smoothing over the anxiety that she had heard the dispute. “I, uh, we—your mother and I, that is—found this at our, uh, usual spot, and it seemed like something that you might like.” He stretched out a hand, which held a sad, down-trodden collection of paper bound by torn covers. It was coated in so much dirt and grime that it took Shiri a moment to realize that the covers had been a deep, dark wine red and the peeling golden embossment proclaimed the book to be titled “Col ct d Lo e Poe s.”Shiri’s red eyes widened, recognizing the treasure for what it was, as she gently took it from his hands, cradling it with all the care she would if holding a baby. She took two slim fingers and lightly pressed the book open, avoiding quick movements that might tear the already ineffective binding. The pages were pale and creamy, the only damage done being to the corners and edges, which were darkened and frayed. Shiri’s smile was an expression of dazed gratitude. “Thanks, Daddy,” she murmured, extending a long arm with which to embrace him, heedless of the patches of dirt on his work clothes.Lerato made an awkward sound in the back of his throat as he reciprocated the gesture. He’d never admit it, but he sought his daughter’s approval (his actual daughter’s, that is) in almost every matter, and when she was so accepting of his gifts, some latent self-consciousness overcame him, and he was as bashful as a young boy. “Yes…Well…Mind you take care of it, Shiri.”
As Shiri pulled away, still hugging the battered and abused book to her chest in one arm, she answered, “Of course I will.” She quickly aid herself out on the covers of her bed, showing no less care towards the book as she opened it, even in all her eagerness.
Lerato smiled, pleased that his gift had delighted his miraculous, most cherished daughter, and quietly stepped from the room, sliding the bengara koushi closed with the utmost of care.Shiri settled in and read the first lines of the first poem on the first page of the book.
Live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountains yields.
She felt a tingle run down her back. Perhaps she had found a worthy diversion as she longingly awaited Eros.---Shiri didn’t know that she had fallen asleep until she blinked and found herself in the sunny and bright clearing that marked her dream world. It looked like it was in the middle of an immense garden, a large, white marble temple—columns and everything—glinting in the distance. A smaller, round, domed building, also made of glowing white marble, lay before her, the path of stones interrupting the flowers twining themselves within the grass. She heard the fountain behind her, and recognized that her clothing was the clingy, gauzy robe that hung about her in the Garden, that the birds singing were out of season, but none of that seemed to matter, for on the steps to the domed structure stood Eros, her god, her love, her angel, the one for whom she had pined the entire day, despite the gallant attempts of the love poetry.
Before she could blink, she found herself in motion, bare feet skipping over stones and grass as she ran for him, almost flying for all the speed with which she approached him. He met her half-way, already pulling her up into his arms as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his red-gold curls. She nuzzled him lightly before lifting her head to bequeath a passionate kiss upon her lips. It lasted for several perfect moments before he pulled away, still keeping mere breaths between their mouths. “I apologize for the absence,” he murmured, green eyes focused on her face, staring at her as if seeking forgiveness from her features. Or trying to rememorize her face simply for the pleasure of seeing it again.
Shiri smiled, feeling tension leaking out of her body slowly, reassured by the sheer presence he exuded. “It’s alright. You’re back now.”He nodded, a twinkling in his eyes. “I am….” One arm slid down to tip her up completely into his arms and he carried her into the cool interior of the quiet home, even the sounds of the birds muffled to peaceful memories. He lay her gently upon the couch, assuring himself of her comfort before joining her on his side. “Am I correct in supposing that you missed me?” Though her answer had always been the same the many times he had put the question to her, his eyes still held the hope and anticipation of a young, foolish boy, in love for the first time. When it came to Shiri, Eros felt that he had done very little growing up by way of his fears. Knowing which monster was the infinitely worst to endure seemed not to bring an entire gravity to his features. He was still, by and large, a playful spirit—with an easily affected heart.Shiri smiled, as she had always done. “Do you even need to ask? Yes, for the thousandth time. When have I ever not?” She leaned forward to kiss him, unwilling to do anything but touch him, the urge to make up for lost time overcoming her normal composure. She had missed him, and with his silent, gentle compliance, she knew that he understood and even reciprocated. Need, instinct, and pure desire took over, heightened by their position in the Garden, ruled by a goddess who reveled in such things, making their actions hurried and frantic, fueling each others’ urgency.
Funny things, dreams. They can seem so real, so terrifyingly sensational. They can dig deep into your self, exposing truth, even if such truth hurt or thrilled. Even mortals were blessed—and sometimes cursed—with such dreams. Shiri had become accustomed to vivid, other-life-like dreams ever since that day nearly eleven years before, and these other sweet, beautiful scenarios only recently. It didn’t seem strange, having a lover in her dreams, and she supposed herself lucky to have such a connection, such a romance. To never fear losing him or harming him….There was a safety in it that many might term cowardly, but such was her depth of sheer, pure feeling that she cared very little what others might say. Love barely lasted in her times, and she was determined to cling to such affection, no matter what it cost her. And she had long ago become used to the “peculiarities” of her situation. She had found total and complete surrender to be her chosen path. Shiri didn’t question what she felt, what she saw, what she believed. Doubt had no place there. Only trust.
They had lain together afterwards for many quiet moments, dream-time stretching them to hours as only dream-time could, simply staring at one another, both content in the hazy afternoon. Then Shiri remembered what she had been wanting to show him all day. “I have something for you,” she murmured, voice soft so as to preserve their little bubble of peace. She rolled onto her side to grasp for the book that instantly came to her fingers. Ah, dream-convenience. It too was a beautiful thing.Eros relaxed his grip, allowing her the movement, quiet amusement in his smile. “A gift, Shiri? Your thoughtfulness know no bounds.”Shiri smiled, sitting up against the arm of the couch, carefully pulling the book open on her lap. She took a moment to smooth down her dress, much to Eros’s silent resignation. Eros arranged himself comfortably next to her, soft wings folding shut against his back, face tilted from where it rested on her belly. “I found a poem and I thought of you.”His expression was encouraging, but he was more pleased by the thought than the actual gift. “Go on, my love.” He reached out a slim, long-fingered hand to absently play with her straight red hair.Shiri took a bracing breath, then began:
“Come to me in dreams, my love,
I will not ask a dearer bliss.
Come with the starry beams, love,
And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.”
Eros had heard many, many poems dedicated to him and his works, plaintive and defendant, but never this one. The first stanza was quaint and charming, her thought, but nothing astonishingly unique, even if he was cognizant of blatant similarity. It was simply one illicit lover longing for her beloved in the secrecy of the night. There had been and were still more lovers in such a situation than many thought. He had almost dismissed it, almost tuning out the words in favor of the soft, feminine voice that recited them, when she started the next stanza. At the words, he froze, but Shiri’s gaze was to the pages and she didn’t notice.
“’Twas thus as ancient fables tell,
Love visited a Grecian maid,
‘Till she disturbed the sacred spell,
And woke to find her hopes betrayed.”
Eros stared at her, an unreadably tense expression on his face.
Shiri, oblivious, went on.
“But gentle sleep shall veil my sight,
And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be,
When, in the visions of the night,
Thy dost renew thy vows to me.”
There was a profound and terrible wonderment on his face, and, once again, he wondered how much she knew about his first and only love apart from what he had told her. There was irony in this reading, this poem spilling from her lips. Irony, and a sadistic punishment for his overreaching his, a god's, bounds.
As loath as he was to hear and remember, he could summon no strength to beg Shiri to stop.
“Then come to me in dreams, my love,
I will not ask a dearer bliss,
Come with the starry beams, love,
And press mine eyelid with thy kiss.”
Shiri closed her eyes with the same subtlety as she closed the book, absorbing what to her felt like a contemplative, awed ambiance, a small frown curving her lips gently.Eros quickly fixed a smile to his mouth, while his eyes remained unfathomably sad. “Beautiful, Shiri,” he barely whispered, having to search for breath for voice, the poem blindsiding him into almost-silence. “Simply lovely.”
Shiri’s red eyes opened, unveiling a shimmering of tears. “I thought of you, and of us…and of her.” She gently took his hand, earnestness in her eyes. “I know how it must feel for me to speak of her—or to even compare myself to her. But I vow to you, on the Styx if I must, that I will never doubt you. I will never hurt you as Psyche did.”Eros couldn’t trust himself to speak and simply gathered her to his chest, and kissed her, feeling her murmur three little words as he did.
He did not deserve such faith. When she knew what he had done, what he had planned to do, she would hate him and what he would make her become. But he could think of no other way. He had grown desperate over the centuries and contrary to most belief, waiting an extensive time for something, and then having to wait a short time more than allotted was simply maddening. All he could do was be as gentle as possible with her and let her enjoy what time she had left.Words: 2,644 Points Earned: 26.44
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 08, 2009 6:19 pm
Cookies are Made with Sugar and HugsI met Keahi, a large, rotund Godling. Perhaps if I can track him down again, he would consent to be my test subject with cookie flavors. Eros doesn't want me to see him again, but I can't help it. All these players seem so nice!Words: 1,622 Points: 16. 22
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 08, 2009 6:38 pm
It wasn’t a sudden change. Not at all. In fact, it took nearly a month before Shiri noticed anything wrong with her sight. Until then, she had been waking, as usual, to a blurrier and blurrier dawn. When she fell down the stairs one morning, her parents decided to dig into their funds and take her to see a doctor. For once, Mary Jane didn’t argue.
Shiri squinted at the street sign, using her middle finger to push the oversized glasses up to the bridge of her nose, zipping up the padded vest. The doctor hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with her, except, of course, the worsening eyesight, and prescribed her the lenses. Of course, the higher the prescription, the more expensive the pair, and Shiri had lied about the extent of the damage for a weaker set, to spare her parents the money. Eros hadn’t been happy and tried to keep her indoors again, but she refused to be so caged. He pled and begged and coaxed when she was asleep, but she would have none of it.
He was sulking. He knew it, but many had accused him of still being an immature, paradoxically serious youth. When he had taken a wife, it had surprised all. But he could no more change his nature than raise the dead….As much as he wished to speak to Shiri, a pride kept him from reaching through the link, and he, instead, watched her stumble around the city, wishing he could stop this change in her, one with which he had nothing to do. She wanted to deliver her cookies as per usual, and since her hobo friends had seemed to come back out, he had no excuse with which to stop her. For a hundredth time, he wished that he could find Persephone, so that he could direct some very choice words to her, and see that she passed them on. This was so far from what was supposed to happen. ‘Just like my cousin to go on a honeymoon when I need her most.’ It was the worry talking, but it didn’t take the bite from the bitterness.
The least he could do was make sure Shiri heard nothing about the death of the poor nymph. She would want to do everything in her power to help solve the crime and soothe the broken hearted who ached. It was something he could not allow her to do, especially in such a vulnerable state.
Words: 415 Points: 4.15
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 11, 2009 8:00 pm
A Bird and a Fish
I met Fish today. He seemed as old as me, but was really 12! Who would have thought? He knows a lot more about the Game than I do. I have so many questions for Eros, but....He still hasn't returned. I'm worried.Words: 1,697 Points: 16.97
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 31, 2009 8:21 am
Inhale, exhale, inhale exhale, more painful gasps of breath than pacing sighs. Stumble, scramble up, keep running, never mind what it might do to the curve of her stomach, what lay inside. It was dark in the night, in the forested valley, but what she sought was bright, pinpricks of light she could no longer see. Trees and branches that had never been there before snatched and grabbed for her, causing many scratches and welts as she ran. Her tears blocked her burry vision.
‘Where is it?’ She thought frantically. ‘Where is the house, the servants, my love? My love! Where are you? Where are you?’
The terror of being abandoned and the guilt of knowing it that it was all her fault thrummed through her veins. It drove her on to search the valley, pushed her on beyond it, searching and roaming, heedless of the swelling belly, until she looked like a wild woman, a Maenad in service to a god far crueler than ecstasy and wine. Those looks once rumored to rival Aphrodite’s were now gone and wasted. How the goddess must have laughed at the sight of her. She rambled through the grass and wheat, pressing her face into the open places of the houses, gazing at the people inside, searching for a single one before wailing in despair that he was not there.
Now the question on her lips was “Who were you?”
The day came when she could barely breathe and her voice croaked “Who? Who? Who?”
And then all she could remember was flying.
----
Shiri woke up, sweating and shaking an uncharacteristic and almost unknown sense of fright overtaking her entire aspect. Dreams within dreams; she had never thought that it could happen, never believed that something could shatter her peaceable slumber so thoroughly that she found herself awake in reality, heart pounding, sweat soaking the white sheets of her cold bed. It seemed that she had to rapidly change what she believed, since such impossibilities had been happening to her since her eyesight had suddenly deteriorated. She was alone now, but she so wished that she could speak to Eros, to have him soothe the now-murky vestiges of nightmare from her mind. All she could feel now was the terror and the fear.
And, as had become characteristic of late, there was no answering voice from her mind.
Words: 396 Points: 3.96
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
