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…
Scott frantically sought some query he could make that was neither insulting nor condescending.
He was met with a friendly laugh.
“Weddings. I plan weddings,” she said, covering her mouth and trying not to giggle.
“Oh. Right. Right. Got ya.”
“What’s your name then?” she asked.
“Scott. I’m called Scott.”
“Scott…” The blush left her cheeks.
“Are you alright, Amanda? Now you’ve gone pale. You…you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Have I? I mean… Do I?” The blush returned to her cheeks.
“Not anymore,” he said and reached for her hand.
Amanda’s mouth opened in recognition of his palm’s texture. Words deserted her in awareness of the pressure of his fingers.
The city’s night life kicked into full effect around them.
Nyx lay on her back in the sand. The cold sea lapped near her but didn’t touch her bare toes. Her hands were beside her ears. Her fingers moved, making lazy paths in the sand. Meanwhile above her, tendrils of inky smoke curved in front of the pure, full moon.
The sea rolled against the jagged rocks on either side of the smooth beach.
Beside her, the crimson-adorned Aphrodite lounged, parallel to the surf. She lay on her side, the silky curve of her hip a beacon of womanhood on the otherwise murky beach. Pitch-cloaked Nyx was near invisible, save for her dusky feet and hands.
“You could have had him, you know. Forced his hand. I’ve no doubt you could have bent him to your will,” Aphrodite said to Nyx, her smooth elbow pressing in the sand. Nyx’s shadows caressed the shining, moonlit flesh exposed above Aphrodite’s red gown.
“That would make me no better than the stupidest of men. Those false mortals who bully and devise plans to achieve one-sided, unnatural happiness,” Nyx replied.
Aphrodite was silent for a few moments, lost in thought. No longer able to keep them to herself she said, “I know what you would ask of me, Nyx, but I cannot make the Sea God love you in the way you want. What you ask is obsession. It borders too close to violence. I can make men and gods love and I can summon the lustiest of urges, but I cannot enforce madness. If you want a cult again, I’m sure you could encourage some group of mortals. You can do what you want, Nyx. But I cannot create this…this mad devotion dressed as love you want.”
“I know,” Nyx whispered, still twirling her fingers in the sand, toying with light’s access, and making shadows in the sky.
“Then why did you bother? Such a great deed. How do I repay you? You did not have to. You did not have to care. You could have even dragged him to Hades, finished the work of your insane daughters.”
“You forget how old I am, dear beauty. But you obviously see the depths of my needs. It pains me to admit you are correct. Perhaps love is…not possible for me.” There was a pause. Silence interspersed with waves.
Then, the Night Goddess finally said, “But kindness is. That I can do.”
And with that, Nyx disappeared into her realm, dragging the inky sky behind her to meet the dawn, Hemera, in an ancient, friendly greeting.
About the Charity
As stated in the Foreword, all of the money that would go to the authors will be given to the Random Acts Organization. This charity holds a mission that is close to our hearts, and we hope that it will be close to yours as well once you know more. With the blessing of their fundraising department, we have presented you with these ten stories that we hope you enjoyed.
Below is information taken from their website (www.randomacts.org) so you can know more about the.
Random Acts is a non-profit organization that is aiming to conquer the world, one random act of kindness at a time. We’re dedicated to funding and inspiring acts of kindness around the world.