Androclus's Plea

    Androclus was the son Zeus and a mortal, Androcline.  He grew into a beautiful youth.  He was respected by men, and admired by women.  Following in his father’s footsteps he seduced, and then abandoned, countless women.

    One day Aphrodite came upon a nymph, Androclus’s latest conquest.  After listening to her lamentations of her unrequited love for Androclus, Aphrodite vowed to take action.  She set out to find her son Cupid, and have him shoot an arrow into the callous heart of Androclus.  Preferably, just as he was gazing at some hideous hag, or better yet, some sow or bovine.

    Meanwhile Androclus was taking respite at the baths of his gym.  He was conversing with a young woman who handed out the towels, a slave, named Tristie.  In the past Androclus had coldly appraised her as fair, but nothing extraordinary, and certainly too skinny for his taste.  She was telling him tales of this and that, and he found himself laughing at her stories, and amused by her gift of gab.

    Henceforth, every time he went to the gym he sought out Tristie, and made a point of conversing with her.  He found, in addition to being charming, she was kind and smart too.  Kinder and smarter than me, thought Androclus, that’s for sure.  And in the course of their talks something strange happened to our hero.

    Every time he saw her, she seemed to have grown more beautiful.  Her hair, which at first had seemed an unremarkable brown, transformed into a most lovely shade of burnt umber.  And those curls of her’s, her tresses.  How had he not taken note of them before?  How they cascaded down so prettily, caressing her shoulders; how they meandered about her neck.

    Her smile, which he had not noticed at all before, had become such a beautiful flash of ivory, it made his heart ache.  And her eyes, oh her eyes!  How they danced magically.  Now, he could not gaze into them and still think straight.

    “What the hell is wrong with me?” he began to wonder.  He was falling in love, except he didn’t know it.  Androclus had never done so before.

    And then, one day, Tristie was gone.  Androclus was beside himself.  He inquired as to her where abouts.  She wasn’t working there anymore.

    He tried to forget about her, but he could not.  She came to his dreams every night.  He dreamed of taking a handful of her hair and breathing its scent in.  He dreamed of wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her close.  He dreamed of tasting her lips, of undressing her, and of taking her into his bed.  He dreamed all of these things every day, whether he was asleep or awake.  He dreamed of no other.

    He lost weight, he stopped sleeping, he stopped going to the gym.  He fell apart, he lost his shit.  Come on - You’ve been in love.  You know the drill.

    Every night he prayed to Aphrodite for respite for his aching heart.  One night his prayer went like this.

    “Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, take pity on me.  It’s obvious that you sent your son, Cupid, who shot an arrow in me, while I did look upon the beautiful and wonderful Tristie.  You have aided forlorn lovers in the past.  You gave three golden apples to Hippomenes, so he could win Atalanta by beating her in a foot race.  And remember Pygmalion's lovely statue who, on his behalf, you chose to animate?  Where is my help, Goddess of Love?  Where is my divine aid?”

    And with that Aphrodite answered, “I will help you Androclus.  Tomorrow Tristie will be back, working at your spa.  But I have news for you my boy, Cupid never shot an arrow into you.  I could not find him that day and I soon forgot about you.  And just for the record, just to set things straight.  You fell in love with Tristie all on your own.  And why would you not?  She’s a goddess.  All along, she was the perfect girl.”



Word Count 678





Author's note:  This, the last of my entries into the Quickie Contest, received third place.  Not bad you think?  Au contraire.  There were only four entries into the round (it had the prompt of a Pygmalion type story).  There were two first places which means, you guessed it, it came in last.  To continue on with the mythological theme, this Sysphus will no longer attempt to roll the rock up the hill.  In other words, I think that's it for my Quickie Contest entries.