Mia Darien - Good Things

Morpheus spoke, “Beautiful Aphrodite, you flatter me. Hephaestos, though he can come up with the greatest instruments of destruction, summoned the Keres to murder one of your lovers, the father of this child. And in a continuation of his wrathful jealousy, rivaling even Hera, he cursed the potential loves of your daughter. To choke the happiness out of those in your line. So much like great Ares was her father, the Fire God’s envy extended into a summoning not of weaponry or tricks, but of the violent death spirits themselves.”

Amanda lay listening, all the while the goddess Aphrodite’s hand lay protectively on her back.

“Aren’t you and Ares…” Amanda began, questioning Aphrodite’s, her mother’s , history .

And the Love Goddess’s voice came out, “Ares is who I would have chosen once upon a time. That all happened long before you were born. Hephaestos sought to best Ares with cleverness. Existence is cruel to us as well.”

Then Amanda said, “And the one who you picked for me to love is dead.” She knew it. Morpheus had played the part of the ghost of her would-be love.

Aphrodite stood and began to pace. She flung her hands in the air, wringing her delicate fingers together. Her legs revealed themselves between the floating slits of her long red gown. Her flesh was shining and glorious.

Despair rang out in her voice.

“I tried not to mark him in any noticeably way. And any god or goddess would be able to see it. But I liked him. I couldn’t have just any person for you. You will bear my descendants! I would have this world overrun with true love. Never mind Ares and all his bloody battles! I tried not to reveal any intention to gift the man to you, but he had the call of Ares to War. And Hephaestos had to do little but call the Keres upon recognizing him. There is much machinery and metal work now in war. I…” The goddess’s eyes shone with tears as she addressed Amanda. “I loved your father, as much as a Goddess can, but I could not protect him.”

Aphrodite released a weary sigh and sat down. “I would spare my children such pain, if I could. But I haven’t the power to prevent Hades from collecting his souls, once a life’s thread has been cut. Only a truly ancient primordial could have such sway. To erase the grave and rebuild living futures. Tell me, Morpheus, is Nyx capable of this?”

The God of Dreams’ whisper carried through Amanda’s flat. “Dawn approaches. You underestimate powerful Nyx. Hades, Ares, Hephaestos, and Zeus combined could not deter the dark daughter of Khaos. He lives life anew, your dearest love. His name I will give you in a dream. Forgive my trickery, dear Amanda.”

Then, Morpheus’ voice raised slightly, to a polite, more business-like tone, when he addressed Aphrodite.

“Love and desire are common place in the minds of mortals, dearest Aphrodite. I have made use of such things as I lay out the dreams of sleeping mortals. I mean no harm…not really.”

Again his mouth curved upwards. He bowed and disappeared.

Amanda turned to her mother. “I can’t tell if he is good or bad.”

Aphrodite smiled and reached out to touch the side of Amanda’s face. “He flows in and out of many a mortal’s subconscious. He knows the deepest origins of your thoughts and desires. He has to perform for the purposes of good as well as evil. Simply because both exist within all of us.”

Amanda’s mother adjusted herself. The bangles on Aphrodite’s wrists and ankles made a tinkling sound, like tiny sweet bells. “I don’t think you need to worry now. I will speak to dark Nyx. For now, you are free to sleep. Sleep, my daughter.”

Amanda closed her eyes. The tinkling noise was just beginning to fade as her mother’s soft lips rested themselves on her forehead.

Perhaps all this has been a dream, Amanda thought, beginning to drift off. The bells infused into her blood, bringing tingles just behind her scalp.

Before her eyes was a man with cropped light brown hair that was still wet. His body rested on ebony cotton sheets. She could hear the fabric rustling as he adjusted himself. She could hear his heartbeat.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Amanda smiled in her sleep, turned over, and whispered a name.

“Scott...”

Scott had woken late and gone for a run. His feet hit the canal path near his house in the old mill town. The calm brown waters were to his left, a tall moss coated wall to his right. Dirt and greenery scents mingled with cooking smells coming from one of the pubs he passed. After passing under the arch of a bridge, he went home.

After showering, he made his way to the train station to go into Manchester. The familiar walk would never be the same. Tipsy giggles and drunken chuckles accompanied the clack-clack-clack of heels and dress shoes on paved streets. He noticed a wedding party or two gathered in large glass and brick structures.

Places that once were factories.

Wine glasses, satin ribbons, and silver cutlery adorned the tables and chairs inside. Objects handled absently in the libation-swilling guests. Pretty, flushed mums in frocks and high shoes held champagne glasses and cooed at their new babies. Couples lounged together, entwining fingers and leaning coifed heads on their lover’s shoulders.

June. A season for weddings.

It was a far cry from the baked earth interspersed with ancient mountains, irrigated fields of wheat, vegetables or opium. A hideous yet beautiful place. War-torn ground, once soaked by his own blood. A place of poverty and greed. And monsters.

Instinct took him to St. Ann’s Square.

There will probably be another bloody wedding there.

How many times will I have to come here? Will Nyx just come and take me? Will I even have a choice?

It was late, yet sunset’s last heated layers lingered in the summer sky. He sat down on a familiar bench. It wasn’t long before the moon and stars dominated the heavens above. He looked up at the full milky shining circle.

People continued to titter and stroll around him. Then, wisps of cloud floated past the moon. Like ebony smoke. It swirled, threatening the bright orb of the moon.

Scott swallowed and looked down. He searched the vicinity for the raven-haired goddess in her mortal form.

Then there was a sound of a lone pair of high heels. A lush, fruity fragrance filled the air. Sweet and edible. It tantalized, but didn’t infiltrate his senses. Not like the smokey, heady assault of Nyx.

He turned in the direction of it. There, wearing a red pencil skirt accompanied by a floaty white blouse with a v-neck, was… her.

She had the look of the woman in the magazine, yet Scott was aware that it wasn’t exactly her.

Despite it being night, he could gather the blush in her cheeks and the ruby tint of her open lips. Large hazel eyes trained on him in astonishment. She came and sat down beside him. He could smell the difference between her perfume and whatever divine product she washed her hair with. Her gaze darted between his hands and the place where his shoulder met his neck.

“Hiya,” he said, stupidly.

“Hello.” She smiled then swallowed and he could hear her breath. Scott’s stomach summersaulted. The air became hot. Even in summer, heat waves like this didn’t happen often. Nobody needed AC in Northwest England.

“What’s your name then?”

“Amanda.”

“Are you out tonight?”

“I’m working… Are you alright? You seem a bit…pale. Can I do anything for you?” she replied. To his ears, her words sounded like an enticement. The way he was feeling, anything she said would sound like an enticement. Like she sought to lure him somewhere rather private. Oh god… Oh dear. She’s not a…