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Written by Rachel Miracle
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Thursday, 03 January 2008 |
It’s very likely that you know his brother- a pleasant young man, though somewhat full of himself. His popularity is vast and his eyes shine with it. Cupid.
When his mother gave birth, first came the chubby blonde one with golden curls and rosy cheeks. The doctors lifted him up, smacked his bottom and gave a “hurrah” of excitement, equal to the end of a war, or the beginning of a plentiful harvest. The father said “We shall call this one Cupid,” and the wife reached out so that he may be placed in her hands. But suddenly there was a twin. He was dark and his cries were shrill so they handed him off to the nurse and said “We do not want this one. Dispose of the little goblin.”
So they did, and he came of age traveling the world destroying romance and sprinkling his ill-content. Bounty hunters were sent after him, but none ever succeeded. Often they would lose passion in their quest.
We don’t speak of him all willy-nilly as we do his brother; he’s a much more delicate matter. To lovers he is the personification of doubt and perfidy. He is the one in the bars telling the husbands to sleep with the waitresses and the one in the offices telling the wives to covet their bosses. He is what lovers fear, and the fear does not let them speak his name.
Copyright 2008 Rachel Miracle
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