Stalker [Greek Myths With a Modern Twist]
This is yet another one from the Intro To Myth seminars. Yet again if I could find time to work on it, I could probably make it into something.
[Stalker]
He’s been chasing after me for days now, every time I peer out my window through the thin lace curtains I know he’s there. The light from my answering machine blinks furiously at me, telling me that he’s left yet another message.
Uneasy I move away from window and back into my study where I see the mass of letters piled up high. I know there are more in the hall cascaded along the floor, unopened and unread. His words are in there, his sonnets, his love, his obsession are all in those letters. I can’t escape him.
Hesitantly I stand near the answering machine again and press the button out of curiosity. Maybe it wasn’t him. I tell myself, maybe it was my mother. I wait patiently for a second as the machine clicks slowly.
My fists balled tightly as I heard his voice serenading through the speakers. This time he was singing a sonnet. Sometimes Angus Apollo went into detailed ravings about his love for me. Others he sung.
I knew why he was like this; the idiot had pissed off a witch who’d been testing out all kinds of different concoctions at the time. As a warlock Apollo’s ego is never full. Not all warlocks’ are like that, just most of them.
As a punishment she saw fit to spike him with a serum she’d been working on. To be blunt she injected him with what seemed to be a rather potent love potion, and now for days he’d been harassing and pursuing me. It was starting to drive me mildly insane.
I got home and he was out there singing my praises, at work I was getting message after messages. He even sent me flowers, I’m not talking a little bouquet of carnations, and I’m talking massive expensive bundles of lilies and roses. I sighed smacking at the off button with the palming my hand, it was going to be another long day.
[Stalker]
He’s been chasing after me for days now, every time I peer out my window through the thin lace curtains I know he’s there. The light from my answering machine blinks furiously at me, telling me that he’s left yet another message.
Uneasy I move away from window and back into my study where I see the mass of letters piled up high. I know there are more in the hall cascaded along the floor, unopened and unread. His words are in there, his sonnets, his love, his obsession are all in those letters. I can’t escape him.
Hesitantly I stand near the answering machine again and press the button out of curiosity. Maybe it wasn’t him. I tell myself, maybe it was my mother. I wait patiently for a second as the machine clicks slowly.
My fists balled tightly as I heard his voice serenading through the speakers. This time he was singing a sonnet. Sometimes Angus Apollo went into detailed ravings about his love for me. Others he sung.
I knew why he was like this; the idiot had pissed off a witch who’d been testing out all kinds of different concoctions at the time. As a warlock Apollo’s ego is never full. Not all warlocks’ are like that, just most of them.
As a punishment she saw fit to spike him with a serum she’d been working on. To be blunt she injected him with what seemed to be a rather potent love potion, and now for days he’d been harassing and pursuing me. It was starting to drive me mildly insane.
I got home and he was out there singing my praises, at work I was getting message after messages. He even sent me flowers, I’m not talking a little bouquet of carnations, and I’m talking massive expensive bundles of lilies and roses. I sighed smacking at the off button with the palming my hand, it was going to be another long day.