On Mythical and Phoenix. Daily Prompt.

There’s a story, a legend perhaps, about young maiden and hero, half man and half god, about how they became each other’s worlds and then scorched them. A classic of tragedy art.

Our hero was well built young chap, smart and kind, and handsome. A gentle giant in a way. Knight in heart. 

Our maiden was the wild one. Some would say she was pretty, although not the “classical beauty”. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. That was the way she lived.

One night these two met. A magical night, indeed. He chose her in a crowd during a celebration in the town. She dismissed him few times, but he wasn’t having it. There was a loud music and she was tired after all day and he wanted  “to talk”?! He wasn’t first, neither the only one that night who tried to woo her, but for sure, he seemed the nicest and brightest (no wonder, he was a half god!). So it happened that at one moment he knelt before her, grasped her around her knees and gracefully and without any obvious effort tossed her onto his broad shoulders and carried her away from all that noise. That’s where “sweep somebody of their feet” comes from.

They fell in love. They explored, learned, grew. They loved each other well and deeply. It was young love, but certainly pure.

One day, the maiden had to leave for another kingdom. It was new to both and they were scared. But they promised to each other: “come what may, I will love you until my dying day.” But hardships of this rocky road were too much to bear. Hero, without his heroine, became sick with loneliness, he lost his will and track and eventually found himself in comforting arms of another girl. When the news reached the maiden, her world burst in flames and her heart cracked open. Three days and three nights she cried for her lost lover, scratching her skin until the blood appeared. On the morning of the fourth day there was not a single tear left, scabs sealing the wounds on her shoulders and neck. Something in her died.

Days became grey mass of eternity, no beacons on horizon anymore. All food was tasteless. Bird songs were muffled. But she couldn’t make herself to hate him.. “Come what may…”

The moon grew and shrank. Seasons passed. Then the grief melted away. She rose from ashes of her old self, beautiful and fiery again, love shining through her eyes, spreading her wings to hug and embrace and fly free. A mythical creature, immortal. “…I will love you until my dying day.”

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Author: pisstowersjettison

Just another special snowflake who lives the paradoxes to the fullest.

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