Three Word Wednesday- Destined
Cumbersome; adjective: Large or heavy and therefore difficult to carry or use; unwieldy; slow or complicated and therefore inefficient.
Morbid; adjective: Characterized by or appealing to an abnormal and unhealthy interest in disturbing and unpleasant subjects, esp. death and disease.
Rampage; verb: (Especially of a large group of people) rush around in a violent and uncontrollable manner; noun: A period of violent and uncontrollable behavior, typically involving a large group of people.
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The first time I saw them they were alone. Standing on the outskirts of the room looking on I spotted her. He sitting at the bar drinking. I watched as her friend joined her and she whispered softly to her to go ask someone to dance. The woman smiled shook her head and gestured for her friend to go ahead. She lifted her cumbersome purse and hid behind it once again.
Young and beautiful, she seemed unsure of her charms, such a change to see one such as her. The usual rabble was focused on themselves and didn’t think of others but she did, I could hear her thoughts from here.
“I hope Lorie is careful. There are so many weirdoes out there. I wish I could be as bold as her but it isn’t my style.”
Her thoughts were a little morbid. Did she really believe all males were dangerous?
His friend joined him and the friend said he would ask her friend to dance. He smiled and said go ahead. It was then I saw him momentarily glance her way. I could hear his thoughts “Curvalicous.” and some other things that meant he desired her. Not what I had hoped from him but it did mean he was interested. I took it as a personal challenge to help these two find themselves together.
I drew back my string and the arrow hit her in the arm, another hit him in the arm as well. How could my aim be off that much? What was it with these two that drew me in, but put off my aim? Should I just fire rapidly, setting off a rampage of love? No most of these people were undeserving, and even if the arrows hit them, the love would fade within twenty four hours. I was tired of those kinds of tricks. For once I wanted to see love that would bloom and last like the arrows, I sent into Victoria and Albert or Cleopatra and Anthony.
I took out two arrows aimed and watched as they took flight. One hit her dead centre of her heart. The other hit him dead centre of his heart. It was three days before Valentine’s Day, would it take?
I watched as they danced the night away. The whole room faded they saw only each other and I smiled. The arrows seemed to be working. The bartender said the bar would close and the last dance music came on the speakers. He asked for her number and she gave it willingly. I had hope they would continue and be the couple they were meant to be.
Two days passed and he didn’t call. Valentine’s Day she waited by the phone. His arrow must not be strong enough I decided and flew to him. He sat watching hockey instead of calling her.
Was there no love in the boy?
I found myself watching the game. I could see why he was enamoured but she had to come first. Intermission came and I fired off the strongest arrow in my arsenal; hitting the target in the heart, as I chanted her name. I knew it worked when he chanted her name and picked up the phone. He asked her for a date.
On that date I watched as they kissed, true love’s kiss unprompted by my arsenal of arrows.
I checked on them three weeks later they were still together arm in arm and on her left ring finger, a diamond ring. I watched as they picked a church for marriage. Three months later I was there when they married.
It has been over thirty years now and they still smile at one another, and when they dance it’s like my arrows have hit them afresh. They still walk hand in hand. I smile when I see them no tricks there, just my best arrows assist by love’s true path.
Many watch for me many feel my arrow’s sting, few deserve more than my tricks. Who am I? Why Cupid of course.
© Sheilagh Lee February 13, 2013