Eros
I sat devastated in front of my mother. Her beautiful features were twisted with a sick satisfaction. She leaned across the the small table to rest a hand on mine. A small giggle escaped her lips.
"Now, my sweet Eros, what did I tell you? You believe in me now, do you not? You've seen it with your own eyes after all. It can be denied no longer. She is unfaithful."
My hands balled into fists on top of my knees. She couldn't have. No. This must have been a mistake. Mother set this up. There's no doubt about it. That's the only explanation. She was still jealous. The pain that began to seep through my skin and settle in my core fought to prove the exact opposite. Mother rose from her seat to stand behind me. Her hands, with their perfectly painted nails, settled upon my shoulders as she began to speak once more.
"Speak, son. Let loose what which you want to. I will lend an empathetic ear." Her voice was taunting. Teasing me with delight. It was sickening. I admit that I have fallen prey to executing deeds for her that was at the expense of another many a time. Yet I knew when enough was enough. My mother obviously did not. I stood, jerking my shoulders from her hands, to face her. I looked down at her. She was a statuesque woman, but I still towered over her. My blue eyes challenged hers.
"Tell me the truth, Mother. Was this your doing?" My voice coated the air with venom. Confirmation sang on her face briefly before she expertly covered it with hurt. She opened her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. "I am disappointed. In you. In Psyche. In this situation. Were you so worried about being the only traitorous woman on Olympus that you had to drag my life and love down in hopes to become old gossip? Do you not care for me, your only son? Of course not. You only care for yourself, you selfish wench!"
Mother's face was scary. I had really pushed her feelings. Then again, she threw mine from a cliff. She set off quickly. "How dare you. You ungrateful child. That is all you are and ever will be. A child. You throw fits when things are not to your liking. You threw a tantrum when I bore Psyche ill-will and cursed her. Now you throw a tantrum because I showed you the truth."
"Do you not see, Eros? Do your eyes not work? She was not to be trusted since the beginning. Those days after your marriage, did you not tell her she may never see your true form? What did she do, tell me." She went on seeing that I was going to keep silent. "She hid a lamp and waited for you to sleep. Then she did as you told her not to. She looked upon your sleeping form. Not only that, she wielded a knife. She intended to kill you."
Mother caressed my cheek where Psyche had spilled a single drop of oil. It touched my skin for naught a second before I swiped it off and left her standing there in awe. The spot of oil had formed into a scar, a small one and barely noticeable one- but a scar nonetheless. Really, it just looked like a sun spot or freckle to me.
"Her years on Olympus have spoiled her. What with Zeus handing her a title, and immortality no less, as though it were a confection. Goddess of Soul. I spit on that name. How can one hold a title that they do no live up to? They cannot. Not only that, she began to act as though she... she was the embodiment of beauty. She began to act as though she were holder of the title Goddess of Love and Beauty. She is not a born goddess. She is a lucky, coddled princess. Her marriage to you was also an accident. She would have been the consort of a minotaur had your arrow not have pricked your finger.
"You've seen many pretty women, Eros. Psyche was no different. Her beauty will never come close to mine. There should never have been any comparison. The Fates arranged all this, I will have you know. The Fates control all. Especially our lives. They take our lives and twist them to their liking the most. They see it fit due to our eternal life and our blessings. That is the only way that it is fair."
My heart told me that what my mother spoke was the truth. I could do nothing to reverse time and set everything straight though I direly yearned to. My mind still saw this ordeal as a farce. And so, my mind and heart battled with the idea and with the setting grief.
"Come, darling," Mother's voice was soft and soothing as she slipped her hand into mine. "We will talk to Zeus and the other Olympians about this. We will decide her fate together."
"Yes, Mother." I gripped her hand tighter as we appeared in front of the King of the Gods and his wife.
Lacie
"Grande Tazo Chai Crème Frappuccino, soy?" The sleepy-eyed barista called questioningly. He looked around before looking back at the drink, probably wondering if, in his sleepy stupor, he had imagined a random order. His head snapped up as he heard me approaching. I gave him a sympathetic tip as I took the chilled beverage with thanks.
I returned to my booth by the window, placing my drink next to my opened book. I loved coming to bookstores that had in-house cafés. It was always such a pleasant experience, being able to read my favorite books with a nice cup of tea, sometimes even coffee. And if I finished all my books, I'd browse the store's shelves for something interesting.
I let out a frustrated sigh. My mind wasn't fully grasping the words' meaning. I'd reread the beginning sentence at least seven times. Maybe it was the early morning that was effecting me like it was the coffee worker. No, no. That couldn't be it. I woke up before my alarm clock went off. It wasn't sleep deprivation that was muddling my mind. It had to be something else. Finding no reasonable reason for my sudden frustration, I looked out the window.
I watched as two birds played tag; the bigger bird, ironically, was the one running away. Finally it relented and allowed the smaller bird near. They sat nestled on a sapling's branch. They interacted for minutes just pecking at the others plumage. The male, the bigger one, puffed out it's chest and belted out a song in hopes of impressing the female. She seemed to go for it until another, more plain bird flew by, serenading her, and she left the male she was perched next to. My heart went out to that poor bird, his fluffed out feathers went down incredibly in size. He had gotten his hopes up to cloud nine and fallen, hitting every obstacle on his way down.
"Venti Caffè Americano?"
A stately boy stood across from the sleepy barista. He was absolutely stunning from behind. He was dressed in a light denim jacket, a jersey hood in place of a collar, dark-wash jeans, and old school sneakers. He had this air of effortless perfection. There was this hidden, or should I say subdued, radiance that seemed to pour out of him.
I laid my head on my forearms and stared out the window. The bird was still there. It looked at me with little bead eyes. Subconsciously, I had the feeling that it was trying to tell me something. I could feel the information. It was in my mind, but like the words on the page I couldn't grasp it. It began to slip through my fingers. I buried my head into my arms as the bird took off and the view became blocked by an eighteen wheeler.
"Hello," a hesitant voice serenaded in French. My head popped up in shock. It was the stunning boy. He was much more so face-to-face. His voice was very distinct. It was deep, but soothing. There was a rumble, but it was gentle. It was like a thunderstorm. There was an edge in it that sent a chill down my spine. I let out a shaky breath.
"Bonjour Monsieur." I shyly smiled at the amusement now displayed on his handsome face.
"Parles-tu français?"
"Oui. Je parle français trés bien."
"May I ask you of your name?" He crooned in English, capturing me with smoldering, sapphire eyes. There was a sadness in them along with an ancient knowledge. This boy... he was something else.
I was just about to answer when the store's door opened, letting in wide-awake customers. I gave him an apologetic look as my phone lit up, vibrating, with a reminder. I quickly gathered my book and drink while slipping out of the booth.
"I'll tell you later," I called from over my shoulder as I rushed out of the now busy store. I had an important meeting that I couldn't blow.
Author's Note:
The tale of Eros and Psyche is my all time favorite out of all the Greek Myths, but I felt that it lacked something substantial. I wanted to tell a story from two separate view-points to see if that substance would appear. It's actually very tedious. Maybe I'm just crazy. I don't know. I started writing this at the beginning of the school year for my English II Honors assignment... and now it's Summer Break. Haha, oh how I procrastinate.