The mortal looked up at the Goddess, that holy creature. Divinity dripped from every pore.
“Of all the Gods, you were my favorite. You were the one I would’ve like to worship most.”
“I know.” Her voice rang loud. “That is why I have come for you. I was your favorite, yet you didn’t worship because you didn’t believe. Now Mortal, Do you believe?”
And the mortal shook his head, “Standing before you now, there is no such thing as faith. I have not the ability, nor the freedom, to believe. I only know.”
And the Goddess devoured the mortal whole, and the mortal accepted his fate. The mortal might have even liked it. For every mortal will perish, and he was able to go gloriously by the teeth of the only immortal he had ever wished was real.
You both like the song. It’s a good song. Right now, you think that song is ‘our’ song. It’s one of the things you share. When you are no longer with him it cannot be shared. Couples who are no longer together don’t share things. That’s why ex-husbands and ex-wives get lawyers. They can’t agree on who gets what. But that restaurant that you used to go to together? It’s not one of the things the lawyers talk about. Neither is this song. This song could continue to be his. He could define those lyrics and that melody. You used to sing and dance along but now you will have to turn down the volume or change the station or, most tragically, take if off your favorites playlist. The better choice? You keep the song. That song can be yours. It should be yours. After all, you both liked the song because it was a good one. So listen to it. While you’re listening to it think about the exact thing you’re doing right then. Be in the moment.If you’re driving, pay attention to the scenery. What does the sky look like? Think about how damn capable you are, driving yourself to the grocery store. If you’re running, smile and feel how strong your legs are. Run and breathe to a rhythm in time with the song. And next time you hear it?This can be the memory you think of. Redefine that song by reliving listening to that song. It can still be yours. It can still be good.
The pair was sitting side by side. He was rambling, as he often did, about how threatening some girls came off as. He was annoyed because he couldn’t understand why all of the pretty girls acted crazy. Why didn’t they appreciate being admired by him?
After listening to him go on she finally asked, “haven’t you ever heard The Tale of the Botanist?”
He shook his head and said, “that doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Care to hear?” the girl smiled.
“Sure,” he said. Although, he was looking rather unsure at the moment.
“There was once this botanist, quite a long time ago, who began the study of flowers. When he came upon the rose he asked curiously, ‘what kind of predator would make these thorns advantageous?’
“He decided he would take a few flowers home for further inquiry. While cutting off the prettiest rose, he grabbed the stem and was stuck by the very thorn he had been looking at.
“So you see?” she said as she finished the story, “everything that is beautiful is equally as dangerous.”
He replied, “I don’t see what a stupid flower has to do with a girl.”