by Tim O'Dell

Created on: February 04, 2009   Last Updated: August 20, 2011

Theia

It was her incandescent eyes that first drew him. Blue, blue, blue, they shone with life; glorious life, wonderful life, heavenly life. He watched as she delicately drew eyeliner around the curve of her eyelid. He gasped as her ethereal smile lit the mirror like a solar flare. He reveled in her scent as she exited the room, skirt flicking back a hint of citrus perfume to tease him, away into the vibrant night. Now was his chance, now his time, now he began.

Theia was excited. The dashing soldier she was dating was a friend of a friend. Handsome, tall, distinguished, he was a little bit older than her usual admirers, but this only added to his allure. Alex had managed to get them a table at the swanky Pink Tulip; haunt of the rich and famous, recommended by royalty, staffed by a celebrated chef. Theia knew her friend Ina had some influential ties, but this was quite something for a girl who began life in the slums. She was still aghast that an army officer, distantly related to the aristocracy, would take any interest in her. Unaware of the effect she had on men, Theia was constantly overwhelmed by the attention she received from a crowd of admirers.

Jacob watched this crass suitor woo the object of his desire. He viewed the scene with a sorrowing heart. The end was inevitable; the proposition followed by the rejection followed by the dismissal. The way Theia attracted men; there was a terrible urgency about their desire for her. They wanted to take her, to ravish her, to possess her from the moment they first saw her. The life that shone from her was like a candle-flame to the moths of their need. She inflamed lust as oxygen inflames fire. Desperate, desperate, desperate were their attempts to drive her into bed. But his love was pure, his love would never be consummated, his love had lasted a lifetime.

Theia opened her door, crept silently into the darkness. Her bed waited. She wanted nothing more than to lay her head down, seek blessed sleep, drift off into oblivion. Her hope was that, one day, she would find a man who would be happy to know her as a human, an intelligent being, a woman.

A card. It lay on her coffee table. In neat handwriting, on the envelope, was one word; Theia. It was not unexpected, this was Valentine's Day after all, although this one had obviously been delivered by hand, and was not welcomed after the trauma of the evening. With trepidation, she opened the envelope and slipped out the card inside. It was fairly plain; white with

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