3 June 2014

Tell This Story: Cupid Shoot Me

Some time ago I discovered a series of picture promts titled tell this story, and it's something I'd quite like to turn into a blog series. These will be short scenes or pieces of flash fiction written spontaneously, with no planning or reviewing; ergo, they will not be perfect and they are not meant to be. For some reason I've always felt more comfortable posting pieces I've thrown together in an hour rather than things I've laboured over for months (side note: am I alone in this? Let me know).

My interpretation of the following prompt is under the cut. If you want to try it yourself before reading mine, please post it in the comments so I can have a read!

 That’s weird, thought Cupid mildly. I’ve never hit the wrong person like that before. 

She adjusted the strap of her quiver, digging into her shoulder with the weight of infinite arrows. The spell she’d bought that allowed her to carry an unlimited supply around on her back had unfortunately fallen short of comfort. Her milky skin bloomed red across her shoulders and her muscles ached; maybe that was what had thrown off her notoriously perfect aim.

Cupid squinted down into the courtyard below at the young serving girl she’d hit. She’d been aiming for the elegantly dressed lady the girl waited on, the arrow’s twin intended for a lord in a neighbouring kingdom. The two were to be wed in another moon’s turn, and Cupid usually did all she could to ensure arranged marriages ran smooth.  

But the stray arrow sparked a wicked idea in Cupid’s ageless mind. She gently slid the arrow’s twin from the quiver, holding it gently in her hands before her. She watched the serving girl carefully, wondering as she always did what it felt to be struck by undirected love. The first target of her arrows would be left in limbo until the second target was hit. She knew humans would experience a strange longing for someone unknown, plagued by dreams of faceless lovers just outside their grasp.  Once, several decades ago, Cupid had prematurely fired an arrow off at some poor peasant who had to endure weeks of limbo before their soul mate finally wandered into their life, and the path of Cupid’s second arrow. 

It was the path of the second arrow that Cupid considered now. Should she seek out the serving girl’s intended soul mate early, and doom her to an indefinite limbo of longing? Or should this arrow reach its original target… the foreign lord way above her station, promised to the lady that she served?

Cupid rolled the arrow across her palms. Why not? It would be entertaining, if nothing else. Nothing is as boring as someone else’s true love, and the true love of others was the career Cupid was bound to for eternity. She’d never tried it before; it had never occurred to her to try. Her job was simple; aim, fire. Nothing had ever been mentioned about the rules if the aim went off. 

A small smile spread over Cupid’s face, the first that she could remember in centuries.

This was going to be interesting.

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