Friday, January 18, 2013

"As Beautiful as the Sun" by Bliss

Be precise. A lack of precision is dangerous when the margin of error is small.
            Concentration was coming to her about as easily as the sun might find its way through the middle of an ongoing storm. When she released the string, the arrow soared by, causing an enormous wave of energy to pass through her arm. Letting go generated a huge sense of relief, leaving a sort of contentment in the wake of the arrow. She exhaled, the great weight of the bow string finally set free.
            Elle opened her eyes to her arrow resting on the edge of the bulls-eye. Barely inside.
            A slight draft of wind passed by, causing a few strands of her escaped hair to stir. The wind wasn't chilly, it was the kind of breeze that would meander through one of those perfect family picnics. Light, but strong enough to bring forth the smell of fresh air. The sun accepted the weather with a nice touch of warmth, the sky a flawless blue to complete the picture.
            The island beneath Elle cut into the sky-scape, free of any visible land that should have grounded it. An island in the truest sense; totally divorced from any other earth or sea. It drifted among clouds, greeting them as companions – but not equals. It was a solid mass, not to be confused with them and their promises of solidity.
            “Not bad,” a voice startled her from behind. “Could have done better, of course.”
            Elle turned cautiously around to face a young man with golden curls, his hair being the first feature she set eyes on. He was tall, well-built, and wrapped in a white shawl representative of the Greeks. His strong jawline and chiseled features reflected the ideals of the ancients: strong and dramatic. But there was a certain femininity there, too, lending his features a sense of tranquility and gentleness. He was beautiful.
            He eyed her curiously, his line of sight darting between her body and the target. The realization of who he was struck Elle, leaving her unable to speak; too many thoughts darting through her mind. It couldn't be... Apollo.
            “Elena, why do you call yourself Elle? Elena sounds so much authoritative. And beautiful,” he said, their eyes meeting.
            All she could do was shake her head and part her lips in an attempt to speak. No words came through.
            “Ah, well,” he looked around, “This is a floating island, like Delos. Do you know who I am now? I would be offended if you did not.”
            This time, a single word crept though. “Apollo.” She breathed a sigh of relief for being able to break away from her trance. Her eyes never left the god.
            “I have to tell you, Elena, your...” Apollo's words began to fade and the sound of his voice was gradually replaced by a ringing noise, until...
            Elle opened her eyes.
            Darkness. Apartment. Bedroom. Cell phone. Dream...

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