((If you like this story please review, I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!))

The world is a place of great peril and great beauty. I learned of the peril when I asked for a gift from the gods, but thatÕs later on. Now at the beginning of the tale we shall start, which is where any good tale starts.

This world, my world is one of cars and technology, one where fantastical thoughts are spurned. I live in a world of my creation, where to me, anything can happen. Well as you could well imagine I am almost always disappointed. Nothing of merit has ever happened to me, except in my dreams, literally. And now as I write I lay in my bed, the laptop on my bed emitting an erie glow. I canÕt wait for sleep, my dreamland is my whole life. A fragile existence in my mind, the world where anything is truly possible.

Opening my eyes inside my dreamland I am perched on the bough of a tree, the world green and fertile around me. A cloak shields my skin from the prying eyes of the forest, greens, browns and feral eyes peer at me through the darkness as I land silently on the soft brown earth. Stepping slowly padding on bare feet, my cloak of black pools about my feet. The sun filters through the foliage above and a smile caresses my face. The woods are warm and the world is quiet, save the echoing of bird calls. In the true world I am know as Cass, the outcast, the weirdo, the fat girl; here I am Cassandra fire haired lover of the old ways, famed herbalist of the land.

My time begins with my rounds of the forest, herbs fresh and fragrant are added to the pouches and jars in my large covered basket. Nothing can go wrong in my world, unless of course I want it that way. But there was something I was unaware of; I wasnÕt the only one in charge of my land, the gods have dirtied their hands with the mud of my earth.

My throne of Sun is my most prized possession, my world is mine, and when I choose, someone else's. As one could Imagine the life of a God gets pretty dull after so many thousands of years. My father has offered me countless women, for the sake of slaking my lust and occupying my time. As is obvious with the above statement his time and effort has all been for naught. I occupy myself in passing, by visiting those few mortals that still truly believe in me and the others. One such mortal is Cassandra. She is scorned for her worship of me, kept away from the light of friendship, save in passing acquaintances. So I will aide her in her endeavors, for as a God I know what dwells in the hearts of mortals, I know what Cassandra denies herself but longs for, she will get it. And I, for being the cause of her alienation, shall be the one to give it to her.

The heady scent of spring blossoms filled the sunlit breeze. Cassandra walked on, her basket now considerably lighter and her feet shod in sandals of worn brown leather. Her now green eyes turned skyward, her hood falling revealing blood colored curls, no longer the mousy brown frizz of the real world. A song wafts on the wind, Cassandra singing softly to herself on this deserted path towards the main village. Nothing can go wrong in this world of her control. Or so she believes...

The gentle tugging of the wind suddenly escalated , as the sun sunk behind a cloud. The baby hairs on the back of CassandraÕs neck stood up, a paranoid feeling sliding through her veins like an icy draught. She shook her head to rid herself of the feeling, she was in control, she reminded herself. Yet the feeling of eyes following her persisted. She whirled about, expecting to find some animal but none was there, but a small medalion was. The chain was fine as was the amulet, both golden and the amulet was a jeweled sun. Kneeling Cassandra picked it from the ground and debris that made it seem like it had been resting there, waiting for just the moment she would chance upon it. Something nagged in the back of her mind, she hadnÕt made that amulet appear, she hadnÕt made the sun hide behind a cloud. Sliding the chain about her neck she forced these thoughts from her mind.

And somewhere on Mt. Olympus the perfect smile of Apollo became wider...