Feb 1, 2019
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from Egypt
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Russia
seen from Japan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
Cupid & Pallas: Flash Fiction
On the island of Lesbos there lived a family with three sons. The eldest son was a great warrior, known for slaying countless monsters as he sailed throughout Greece. Of the three brothers, he was the most talented with sword and spear. When he was of age, he married a Spartan princess and lived in luxury for the rest of his days.
The second brother was incredibly smart. Though he could have married a wealthy woman, he chose to live like his patron goddess, Athena, and joined other scholars in a home of knowledge and chastity.
The third brother was not so talented, but had the most beautiful face in all of Greece. His name was Pallas, and he was said to be the secret son of a god, his face sculpted by Prometheus and given life by the kiss of Aphrodite. Though he was perfectly mortal, he believed the rumors which deemed him to be worthy of the gods. So instead of marrying a princess, or becoming a scholar, he chose to seek the hand of a goddess.
He traveled to the shrines of Aphrodite, and prayed that she might send him a lover worthy of his perfection. In answer to his prayers, a shadowy angel visited in the night with a great flurry of rustling wings.
“I have come to be your companion, and this bed will be our marriage bed. The gods will bless our union, but only if you promise never to look upon my face.”
Pallas agreed at once, and swore to love her always no matter how long she remained in darkness. They lay together for many nights, and she provided him with feasts and jewels as a reward for his patience.
Yet he could not keep his promise. After many months of tender touches in the darkness, he could bear the ignorance. A flame sprouted in his hands one night, carried delicately to their bed, where his shaking fingers fail to catch a drop of melted wax.
Thunder rumbled; there was the rustling of great, feathered wings.
“What are you?” Pallas whispered, looking at her figure in the dim light. “I promise I’m not afraid.”
“You should be afraid, for you have committed a great treason. You have broken an oath to a goddess, and never again will you receive a kindness from the gods.”
“But I love you!”
“You did not trust me. Never again will you see my face, or any face. You will return to your home as a blind man, and never look upon your own beauty or anyone else’s.”
When she departed, the candle blew out with the wind of her flight. Darkness set all about him, and in his ears he heard only his cries of misery, surrounded by that fearful rustling of wings.
