Fairy Tales

Sirin hid in her hair, the sun, like an unknown wanderer, lit up the hat, lost with rabbit hair and went to the next seat. A girl with a white mask with thin arms sat down, and in her hand a plaid rolled up by a mermaid.

On the dark rucksack, a round little silver shimmered like a rainbow on a chain with a black hole.

  Fir trees are green, unbearable, with branches barely awake in the spring, stretched up and it seemed that the white gloomy sky was approaching, falling down ... But the trees did not give .... a solar eclipse, its trace remained on houses and people, almost did not frighten, but disturbing.

White cars streaked past with dark round rings on their rims and yellow slits in the houses with exposed window nerves. The bus turned, sighed and seemed to be something alive.

Sirin looked out of the window, looked at the gray bridge with his eyes, sighed sadly and went into his world.

  She sat down at the table, straightened the tablecloth, remembered that today she was passing a yellow gas station, a small narrow one, as if... This city was sad for her, it seemed to have been withdrawn from reality, abandoned by everyone, including her...

Tell me, did you think that it would be so ... That your pain would come out only in fragments, what are you ...!?", - the voice of the pickle seemed to her that the dark unicorn was talking again in the doorway.

  There was a smell of dried fish almost on fire, the smell was very strong and she almost started to vomit.

On the track, red and white alternated so that the wind would not blow away the light plastic fences, they were pressed down with black sandbags .. and all the garbage in the world was there.

A woman in a dark coat with a scarlet ribbon of flowers came out through the open doors and went to the same factory building. Blue gates, high, recently painted, they rose up as if on an old castle. Many people walked, breathed and something was in their souls, but gradually died there.

Road signs, those that are visible to drivers, they were all alive to Sirin, they all whispered their own to him. The white arrow on the blue pointing down and it looks like it fell there...

I'm not calm here ... "- her voice tugged at her sleeve.

Looking out the window, she saw Sirin pecking at grains like a dove.

  Probably switched to natural food. Usually he eats fresh meat, she remembered well how he caught several sparrows and immediately swallowed them without plucking. Maybe he's hungry...

  Sirin noticed her and she moved away from the window, covering the tulle with her hand. The man in blue punched a narrow ticket in a yellow puncher, he had round glasses and a black beard with a mustache.

The bluish greenhouses shone warmly, and inside there were green plants, pink and delicate flowers ...

  She sighed, got up and went into the next room, there was her library and she remembered everything old, she lived with it and she wanted to die in all this.

  Sirin went into the room tapping with small claws, approached her, looked closely, looked into her eyes, she stretched out her head and stroked him, Sirin cooed ...

- "What did you bring me this time?" - she leaned slightly towards him.

A small dark hairpin with a blue bright stone fell out of his mouth, along the rim of the circle there were several more small white stones ...

Like a necklace, she thought.

  Sirin went to the bookcase, touched some of them with his left paw and pulled out a narrow silver book.

The golden edge of her elbow was immersed in green," he read...

  He looked at her with burning eyes and sighed, "You know, sometimes it's so sad... Did you write that?"

- "No, this is some old guest of mine ... He must have taken the book and wanted to leave a mark ... "- she took the book from his paws and put it on the shelf.

  - "Why do you always hide when I'm outside?" - He looked out the door, caught a mouse and swallowed it.

She did not answer, but covered her face with thin fingers, bought herself a white plaid with bright scarlet flower beads, and fell asleep.

“She must have been in a lot of pain,” Sirin thought.

He climbed onto the cabinet, swayed on the chandelier and plunged into darkness, catching worms there, eating dark essences, those that devour human souls.

Irina Tall (Novikova), Belarus/Poland

#dylanday

Irina Tall (Novikova), born in Minsk (Belarus), living in Poland,  is an artist, graphic artist, illustrator. She graduated from the State Academy of Slavic Cultures with a degree in art, and also has a bachelor's degree in design.
The first personal exhibition "My soul is like a wild hawk" (2002) was held in the museum of Maxim Bagdanovich. In her works, she raises themes of ecology, in 2005 she devoted a series of works to the Chernobyl disaster, draws on anti-war topics. The first big series she drew was The Red Book, dedicated to rare and endangered species of animals and birds. Writes fairy tales and poems, illustrates short stories. She draws various fantastic creatures: unicorns, animals with human faces, she especially likes the image of a man - a bird - Siren. In 2020, she took part in Poznań Art Week. Her work has been published in magazines: Gupsophila, Harpy Hybrid Review, Little Literary Living Room and others. In 2022, her short story was included in the collection "The 50 Best Short Stories", and her poem was published in the collection of poetry "The wonders of winter".

ILLUSTRATIONS BY

Irina Tall (Novikova), Belarus/Poland

ink on paper, gouache

30 x 40 cms

_____

GOLD DUST

(Inspired by a fairy tale)

by

Andie Petrides

Some fairy tales are inspired by mythology. Some human stories are inspired by fairy tales. Here’s one where the two met.

(1)

Inside the Villa Daphne

Alana twirled around happily in her spacious bedroom, hugging herself and almost giggling aloud. The last rays of an accomplice sun brushed the gleaming surfaces of the room from the large bay windows, before it slipped unobtrusively behind the sliver of sea visible from the villa. In only a matter of hours, the sun would rise again, fresh, clean, bright and warm. The Villa Daphne would be bathed again in a cathartic morning sunlight, which would probe the sprawling gardens, caress the white walls, and be reflected off the proud marble statues lining the driveway to the house.

It was done. The person whose very existence was a thorn in Alana’s side was finally out of the picture. To all intents and purposes, Grace no longer existed, and Alana had center stage all to herself again.

Grace was the step-daughter she inherited when she married Paul Tsipasis. The blossoming of Grace’s beauty over the last few years had irked Alana as it threatened her sense of believing herself the most beautiful woman in the world.

Looking admiringly at her reflection in the ornate mirror on her bedroom wall, Alana whispered happily: I am the most beautiful woman in the world. Her rich, tawny hair was enviable, especially after she had some subtle highlights added to it. Her deep green eyes were thickly fringed with dark lashes. Clever tanning techniques gave her soft skin just enough glow to offset any outfit she chose to wear. The exhilaration she felt was indescribable. At last! After the tedious tension of the past few years, she felt truly, completely, satisfied.

****

There was not much time before the guests started arriving, and Alana still had to get dressed. They were coming to enjoy another of her legendary parties. After all, she was one of Athens’s most accomplished and beautiful hostesses. She was Alana Tsipasis, the sophisticated, charming wife of Paul Tsipasis.

Recently, Alana had started being overshadowed in looks by her step-daughter Grace Tsipasis, whose beauty was slowly stealing the limelight from hers. The newspapers no longer reported solely on what Alana was doing, and what Alana was wearing. They had started including Grace in their coverage, and the masses’ insatiable and fickle interest in everything novel, had been stirred. Alana had had to do something about it, and quickly. Ideas that had simmered for years in her head had finally materialized into a plan, foolproof and perfect, and after tonight, she would once more reign supreme in the department of perfection.

Everything had had to be planned meticulously. Alana had to remain calm, smiling, and nice ... even to Grace. After all, she had an image to maintain. She could not risk the Bad Stepmother bit. After getting rid of Grace, no one was to suspect that Alana had had anything to do with it.  She would appear to be appropriately distraught, then would slowly re-build her interrupted perfect life as the undisputed queen of beauty. Dear God, how superb!

Snapping out of her reverie, she went to her wardrobe and chose a striking chocolate brown taffeta dress, designed especially for her for this party. Who would dare wear brown? Alana would, of course, and look stunning to boot. The color of the dress brought out the tawny lowlights in her rich hair and gave her dark green eyes a hint of indigo blue, like the beloved sea of her youth. 

She slid into her dress, shimmying a little to fasten the invisible zipper at the back, then she consulted her faithful friend: the full-length mirror on the wall. ‘Alana is the most beautiful of them all,’ it seemed to say. She gave it a brilliant smile and blew a kiss in its general direction as she moved towards her dressing-table. She opened her silver jewelry box and picked some matching accessories. These she chose from a selection of thin, elaborately worked gold chains, cleverly interwoven with tiny diamonds, to complement her outfit. Greek designers were the best when it came to delicate, intricate craftsmanship, surely inspired by the Greek goddesses themselves!

Alana stole another fleeting look at herself in the mirror as she left the room. She liked the way the superb dress hugged her slim frame. She liked the designer she worked with and had discussed plans with her to start her own design line – it just never seemed to be the right time. She had been too consumed with the Grace business but now that was over. She closed her eyes for a few moments and exhaled a long sigh of relief.

       ****

(2)

Sapphire sky and indigo sea

Alana grew up in Kea, a small island, about an hour’s sailing from Athens. The sea was her mentor, and she had spent much of her childhood swimming in the limpid waters around the tiny island, racing the fishes and enjoying diving to silent, unexplored depths. There she could imagine she was a nymph. She could almost imagine the god of the sea, Poseidon, ruling his kingdom under the sea, and wishfully hoped to find a trident on the ocean floor. All she found one day was an almost intact lipstick that some tourist must have dropped from a tour boat. She often wondered where the nymph of Greek mythology, Daphne, had been swimming when the god Apollo saw her and fell hopelessly in love with her. Alana had always felt free, at one with nature, on top of the world when she was near water. Her uninhibited laughter would mingle with the fresh breeze, the lapping waves and the cawing of marine birds. When tired after long stretches of swimming, she’d float back towards shore, sometimes thinking of the tragic Daphne and comparing herself to that ephemeral, dainty nymph who had preferred becoming a laurel tree than accept the advances of the handsome god Apollo. Alana would smile and dream of meeting her own handsome prince. But when? Where? Was Daphne more beautiful than her?

Being the most beautiful was a ‘thing’ with Alana. She could not quite explain why but it was important to her to surpass everybody else in beauty. Like it was for others to be the brightest or most accomplished, for Alana it was to be the most beautiful. Her mother was quite plain and she had no sisters to compare her beauty to. Her father was good-looking but not a head-turner. Alana grew up convinced that there was no other person on the planet who came close to being as beautiful as her – until her step-daughter Grace came into her life years later.

Her vivid imagination was triggered by the tales of the old fisherman who was almost a fixture in one of the coves near which she normally swam. Nikos was his name and his withered and sun-parched face always broke into a special smile just for her, whenever she passed his way. Now, Nikos did make Alana feel like the most beautiful creature to walk the earth and she liked that.

Alana loved asking him questions about the Greek gods and goddesses, who had populated the earth long before there were men. She especially loved it when he told her the love story of Apollo and Daphne, even if it was a one-sided love situation. One day she dragged her cousin Anna to come and listen to Nikos’ embellished tales. Sometimes, if he had had good luck with his fishing, he would give the girls a couple of fat, shimmering fishes to take home.

The girls settled comfortably, as close as possible without being gored by the fish-cleaning knife wielded by old Nikos. Anna scrunched her nose a little at the pungent fish gut smell, but Alana was oblivious to anything but the golden words that spun the intricate tales she’s heard countless times before and which fell like liquid gold from the fisherman’s mouth.

Needless to say, Nikos enjoyed the company of the various kids, tourists and all who discovered his little spot by the sea, and he didn’t mind repeating the eternal stories which sometimes took a wide detour from their accepted form. So, when beautiful Alana and her equally attractive cousin giggled their way almost atop the slippery fishes, Nikos put the menacing knife away, wiped his calloused hands absently on his long grey tunic, musically swept his arm across his bulbous nose, dislodging some stuffiness, and began:

“When the god Apollo fell in love with Daphne, a sea nymph, their union was never to be. Here’s how hearts sometimes do not meet …”

“Oh, I love this one!!” Alana couldn’t help exclaiming and interrupting the story; she was that excited. “I think Daphne used to swim around here. Like me.” Nikos shook his head at the bubbling enthusiasm of his number one fan, and continued as if she hadn’t spoken:

“Following the brightest star in the skies in quest of the Elixir of Youth, Apollo had to neutralize the fearsome snake, Ladon, guarding the elixir by playing his flute and making it go to sleep. The elixir was made from golden apricots of a magical tree, and drinking from it made Apollo’s appearance eternally youthful.

Now Eros, the god of Love, got irritated when Apollo had mocked him one day. So, he prepared two arrows, one of gold and one of lead. He shot Apollo with the gold arrow which made him fall passionately in love with the beautiful nymph, Daphne, who was simply swimming by, minding her own business. Eros shot Daphne with a lead arrow making her hate Apollo and adamantly refuse his amorous advances. Apollo did not stop pursuing her, though, which led her to take a desperate measure to evade him, transforming her appearance into a tree. She became a laurel tree.

Apollo, who did not stop loving her, decided to bestow an eternal honor on Daphne by using his powers of eternal youth and immortality to render the laurel tree evergreen, with leaves that do not decay. He wore laurel leaves in his hair, and used laurel leaves to adorn his lyre. He started the practice of awarding winners of athletic competitions with crowns made of laurel as a special award of achievement.

Nikos grew pensive as he finished his story. No one moved. Alana was staring out at sea, willing Daphne to re-appear. Anna sat there with her mouth slightly open, completed mesmerized by the beautiful, sad tale. She then tugged at Alana’s dress and urged her to get up and go home as they had forgotten the time and would certainly be scolded.

“Thank you, Mr. Nikos,” she said softly. “Alana was right. You are a wonderful story teller. Thank you for the fish.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nikos. My mother will love the fish, she says you always find the best ones,” Alana said. “I’ll be back for another story soon.” With that, the girls grabbed a fish each and ran back home, their giggles filling the pure air with innocence, their light footsteps slowly disappearing in the wet sand.

One other lazy afternoon, Alana was so caught up in her daydreaming that she lost track of time. She was picking up iridescent shells to decorate a new diary she had bought. Her rumbling tummy reminded her that she was late and that she was ravenous. She had promised her mother to return early that day to prepare jars for her mother’s sought-after homemade marmalades. She hastily gathered her things and rushed home, hoping she was not too late.  She knew the smell of freshly baked koulourakia (bread rolls) would meet her way before she reached the house, as would the pungent aroma of the oranges cooking for the marmalade. Freshly-caught fish was a staple at her house but her favorite food was always the tsigaropita, otherwise known as the original pie of Kea.

Because she always chose an obscure, secluded and out-of-the-way spot to practice her mermaid skills, Alana had to cross the entire village on her way home. She had gotten used to the many admiring stares along the way, which fed her growing vanity and teenage self-absorption. However, her true ambition was to conquer a larger cosmos – she wanted her beauty to seduce a more sophisticated world, not be hemmed in by the confines of a mere seaside village.

Alana met Paul Tsipasis one languid day, when his yacht was moored at ‘her’ beach. She had emerged from the waters like an ethereal goddess. The sheer wonder in his eyes was the green light indicating she had found the golden key to her dream of ruling the world.

Alana’s beach was quite out of the way and normally no yachts strayed that far from the more frequented mooring points. Was Fate knocking?

***

(3)

Dinner at the Tsipasis’

In her bedroom at the Villa Daphne, Alana shook the daydream off. It wasn’t usual for her to zone out like that. Was it that she couldn’t contain her sheer exhilaration at having pulled off the coup of the ages? Mount Olympus would have welcomed her with open arms, she was sure. But tonight, she had a party to host.

With a last look around her room, now strewn with dresses and shoes she had tried on earlier, and with a satisfied sigh, she left and closed the door gently behind her. She leaned against it, her arms behind her resting on the gleaming wood, and gathered her composure to face her guests, invited by her dear Paul for an impromptu birthday bash he was throwing for her. Never mind that it was a few days before the actual birthday, but Alana was always tickled by the special little attentions Paul surprised her with, quite often actually. There was that time when ….

“Coming, agapi mou? I heard the door close!” Paul’s voice floated from downstairs. He looked up as Alana appeared on the top stair. She stood there for a moment, smiling down at him. The light from the sparkling crystal chandelier above reflected golden tones in the deep blue of his eyes.

“Of course, coming, love.” Alana gazed down at Paul and her smile widened.  She glimpsed the untamable tiny curl of hair on his forehead, a constant source of playful debate between them. Alana touched her fingers delicately to the staircase and descended slowly, drinking in the admiration and love she saw in her husband’s eyes and which he did not try to conceal. From time to time over the years though, she did catch a quizzical look in his eyes. It was as if he sensed she did not like his daughter. Today though, she felt he was all there for her. When she reached the bottom of the elegant staircase, Paul leaned over to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, then, hand in hand, they turned toward the main door to welcome their guests.

The first couple to arrive was Paul’s cousin Mimi and her husband, Mike. They were always the first to appear at the Tsipasis’ events. The men shook hands. Mimi and Paul exchanged the customary two kisses on the cheeks and an affectionate bear hug. 

Reacting to Mimi’s questioning eyes, Paul said, laughingly: “I can see you are surprised. An on-the-spot party. Have you ever seen me do anything as spontaneous before?”

Mimi guffawed in mock horror. “You, spontaneous? I’m seeing a new Paul.” Turning to the still smiling Alana, she continued: “This must be your doing, Alana. After all these years, you managed to extract Paul from his cocoon.” With that, she gave Alana a hurried hug and wandered off to admire the lavish surroundings and to check if there was anything new to discover. Three astonished pairs of eyes followed her abrupt abandonment, but they were used to her theatrics. They chuckled. What a character Mimi was. Then Paul and Alana turned their attention back to the door where other friends had started to arrive.  

“I think this is Kea.” Mimi stopped in front of a painting and beckoned to her husband to come over. “I haven’t seen this one before. Look how the beach curves at this point. The artist has really captured the magic of that special island. That’s Alana’s island, isn’t it?”

Mimi’s distinctive uppity Athenian voice carried easily to Alana’s ears. That’s right, Mimi, she thought, my island.

Soon, the party was in full swing. Glasses clinked and animated conversations dotted the beautiful room. The Tsipasis guests were a mixture of diamond-clad women and elegantly suited men rubbing shoulders with those in colorful jeans, jackets and statement accessories. A couple of the seasoned socialites couldn’t conceal their envy when their men competed for the attention of their charming hostess. The more avant-garde ones were less concerned with such trivialities and were soon buried in discussing the merits of opening up the country to international influence or holding on to tradition and history.

Moving easily between the groups, Paul and Alana meandered towards Mimi and Mike’s group.

“28 centuries!” Mike was saying. As a former university professor as well as a minister serving in the current government, he sounded very concerned. “That’s how long we’ve used the same alphabet. As for spelling rules, 24 centuries! How can we not be concerned with all the foreign words that are creeping into our language?”

“Oh, come on. What about all the languages steeped in words of Greek origin?” A bespectacled, long-haired man counteracted. “Consider it an exchange of knowledge.”

“So, next, you will consider the world as a big village with one universal language. Is that what you are proposing?” Mike’ voice was rising in tempo.

Alana and Paul discreetly melted away to another group and another conversation. Suddenly, cousin Mimi’s high-pitched voice cut through all conversation like a gleaming saber.

“Where is our lovely Grace this evening? Has she finally decided to hang out with her friends? Ah, it seems our beauty is growing up and finding her own feet.”

Alana gritted her teeth to conceal her annoyance at the mention of Grace, but her smile remained fixed and bright.

Mimi, certain she was on to something juicy, tugged at her shawl with one hand and dragged her surprised husband with the other to where Paul and Alana were talking to a colorful individual, who Mimi suspected to be the creator of the Kea painting.

“Hold your horses, Mim. Why the sudden hurry?” Her husband spluttered into his first serious drink of the evening. “Look, my drink is more on my shirt now than down my parched throat!” However, Mike was used to Mimi’s spontaneous outbursts and was resigned to her eccentric ways. Who else would dare do that to a Government Minister and get away with it?

Paul had paused in mid-sentence as he noticed Mimi’s determined beeline towards them.  

“Oh, Mimi. Unfortunately, Grace couldn’t be here tonight. She had to fly to Switzerland this afternoon to visit with her best friend whose birthday party is tomorrow,” he said, then turned to Alana, appearing suddenly anxious. “Don’t you think she should have called by now to say she has arrived, agapi mou, my dear love? She usually calls.”

“Don’t worry, honey. Grace probably did not want to disturb us tonight. She knows we have the party. You know how thoughtful she is,” Alana shot a calculated adoring look into Paul’s deep blue eyes, patted his arm then continued, almost as an afterthought: 

“She will certainly call in the morning. Moreover, she has her bodyguard with her, so she is well protected. Really, Paul, you worry too much.”

“You’re right, my love, perhaps I do worry too much.” Paul said, relaxing visibly.

 “Would you still like me to call Switzerland and check?” Alana enquired softly, bringing her face close to her husband’s, her eyes limpid pools of love and concern.

“Oh, no. Grace will think we’re treating her like a baby. She might resent it. As you said, darling, she’ll certainly call in the morning.” Reassured, Paul gave Alana a grateful smile.

“Yes, dear Mimi, Grace is growing up so fast,” Alana turned sweetly to face Mimi and the uncomfortable Mike. “She has been planning this trip for ages. It was hard for us to let her travel on her own, well, with her bodyguard of course. But, you know, it had to happen sooner or later and she was so excited about her trip.” Alana put her arm around Paul’s and continued, looking at him. “It was so sweet of Paul to throw this party, so thoughtful to take our minds off Grace’s absence. Thank you, Paul.”

Mimi looked a bit disappointed that things were not juicier than that.

Alana disengaged her arm and excused herself to go check on the dining arrangements. She turned to Mimi.

“Would you like to come with me?” The two women walked off, comfortable in each other’s company. Alana was aware of Mimi’s sometimes overwhelming curiosity but she wanted to show off a little herself, so it worked for both of them.

The mood lightened all around and animated talk resumed. Some of the guests wandered around the large, tastefully decorated room. The décor reflected Paul and Alana’s taste in mixing touches from their rich cultural past in patterns from antiquity blended with the subtle elegance of Scandinavian minimalism. Blue and white was evident all around, and the two Ionic columns on each side of the sweeping staircase boasted pure Greek. The Kea painting added a touch of nostalgia to the perfect balance of old and new, light and shadow.

         ****

 “Thanks, Mimi, for coming on such short notice. Paul thought this little get-together will cheer us up after Grace left. It is also close to my birthday. I love him for it. You know how he usually plans weeks ahead for these dos.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Dying to know what you’ve whipped up for dinner tonight.”

“It’s Maria you should thank, not me. She is the food wizard.”

With that, the two women entered the dining room and were greeted with a superbly arranged table. Alana had trained her staff well and knew she could count on them when she was entertaining. The details were perfect. Small mezze dishes dotted the impossibly long table, vying for attention with the strategically placed bread baskets of minuscule pitas. Tiny olive oil jugs were paired with matching bowls of freshly pickled olives, fragrant mini cucumbers and succulent cherry tomatoes.

Alana liked to add foods from her home island Kea when she entertained. This time it was ksino and kopanisti, distinctively flavorful cheeses, and loza, a typical mezze of the Cyclades, the so-called “prosciutto of Kea.” Laurel leaves were dotted cleverly around the elaborately embroidered tablecloth. The centerpieces included fresh flowers from the garden, and colorful fruits, hanging naughtily outside their filigree containers, free and cheeky. Who else challenged traditional arrangements like Alana did?

She knew that by the next day, her bold touches would be copied by many an aspiring hostess and talked about for weeks to come.

Alana gave an approving smile to Stathis, the capable butler, who waited confidently for her verdict. It was an open secret between them that party arrangement discussions happen before or after an event and never within earshot of guests. From her smile, Stathis understood that tonight’s ‘after’ discussion would include a lot of praise. A smile played fleetingly on his lips as he watched Mimi’s expressive: “Oh, my!”

“I’m glad you like it, Mimi.” Alana was genuinely pleased.

“Beyond expectations, as usual.” Mimi was sincere with her compliment. Then she added:

“I know this is not the time, but I wanted to tell you how fabulous your dress is. Brown taffeta! That’s so bold and it looks fantastic on you. Weren’t you telling me about starting a design line yourself?”

“I am, I am. Keep pushing me. I don’t know why I’m apprehensive about doing it. I’m not usually a hesitant sort of person.”

“I will keep reminding you. You must, must do it. Now let’s go call everybody to dinner.”

With that, Alana and Mimi returned to the party. Paul was talking animatedly, surrounded by a small group of people. Mimi scanned the room for her husband, whom she beckoned over. Alana slid in beside Paul without interrupting what he was saying.  A few minutes later, arm in arm, they preceded their guests in to dinner.

****

            PART II

(4)

Paul

When they got married, Alana was twenty-one, and Grace Tsipasis was six years old, a pretty, quiet child whose mother had died a year earlier. Paul Tsipasis had, at the time, given the impression he’d never marry again. Who could possibly replace his Marina? That was before Alana literally burst out of the sea into his life and captured his heart – in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Their whirlwind romance was like a story borrowed from mythology.

****

Paul grew up in an affluent part of Athens, in a beautiful house, the Villa Daphne. He got the best education money could buy and always felt grateful to his parents for giving him many opportunities to shape his life for future success. His friends liked him. His life was pleasant and happy, with no drama.

Paul also knew how to have fun and was sought-after when any of his friends needed someone to liven up their parties. When he met Marina in his first year at college, he instinctively gravitated towards the pretty, gauche student, with the urge to protect her, not just teach her how to dance the sirtaki. Soon, the two became inseparable and wedding bells chimed. Grace was born to this union of love, a golden child to a golden couple.

Paul was determined to offer his daughter the same priceless opportunities his parents had given him. There was nothing Grace wanted that Grace did not get. Paul protectively kept a close watch over his family to keep them safe. When his daughter turned five and showed artistic talent, Paul and Marina enrolled her in ballet classes. She had barely had a few lessons when Marina was killed in a horrendous car crash on the way to get her from the ballet studio. The little girl shut down that day and refused to listen to another tune which might remind her of her gentle mother. Paul shut down too and struggled to continue managing his business. Life outside work and his daughter no longer existed.

Does time really heal? Well, it certainly dishes out parcels of balm and sunshine for the picking. Paul realized one day that continuing to mope the way he was doing, was a disservice to his adored daughter. He made a supreme effort to start living again but he vowed never to remarry.

Then Alana emerged from the waves one languid morning, like a surreal vision. Paul’s soul stirred and meaning colored the world again.

****

(5)

The Curse

In the beginning, Grace had posed no threat to Alana. Her father doted on her, naturally, but Alana had assumed there was a fair amount of pity mixed with his love for Grace because she had lost her mother so early in life. Many times, it irritated her to see Grace with her father, the two of them huddled together in play. She felt excluded. Some games started with “Grr, said the tiger; mrr, said the tortoise” from Paul, while attempting and failing at moonwalking. Grace would respond laughingly by “Wrong text, bad dancing, daddy” and she would show him the right moves, pursing her lips to indicate ‘no text’ here. Then they would collapse on the floor, silly, complicit, happy.

“Mommy would have done this way better than you. Can you please stop trying to moondance?”

Paul would raise his hands in surrender – till the following time.

Other times, they would grab a basketball and run to the back garden to shoot hoops. Marina, Grace’s mother, had been a keen basketball player despite her shyness and both father and daughter felt they were honoring her memory by continuing the tradition they had started with her, when Grace was barely tall enough to try.

Clutching at straws, was what Alana thought of these less than charming charades. But she never interfered.

As time went on, Grace started blossoming into a breathtaking beauty, and Alana’s growing resentment about that soon overpowered her good judgement. It didn’t help that one day, strolling in Omonia Square, a famous landmark in downtown Athens, someone jolted her sharply, hurting her shoulder. Alana cried out in pain and turned to see an old woman, literally looking like a witch from a fairy tale, staring at her unblinkingly. Their eyes met and Alana drew in a sharp breath as the old woman hissed:

 “Stupid woman! Your future is black.”

The dirty form melted into the crowd but her venomous words stung Alana like a thousand poisonous needles, gouging out all the goodness in her, leaving her shocked and breathless, nursing her shoulder. For a fleeting moment, Alana wished she had with her the blue amulet against the Evil Eye, a trusted superstition that protects one against such vicious curses. The transformation she felt at that moment and was helpless to stop, was quick, permanent.  Did that witch actually curse her, in broad daylight, in a crowded downtown street? Why? Alana felt goodness ooze out of her pores like little puffs of white clouds. Nor could she control the new emptiness and evil that settled forcibly in her soul. She hugged herself, standing still in the middle of a busy street, nursing her shoulder, oblivious to the curious stares of those around her. Everything somehow lost color and charm. She couldn’t wait to get home.

It was then that Alana’s plans to do away with Grace started taking shape.

                                                        ****

Years before, when Grace was twelve, already quite tall and striking for her age, Alana had persuaded Paul to send her to an exclusive girls’ boarding school in Switzerland. Initially, he was not too happy with the idea, but Alana pointed out that she would not be that far away, and the special grooming she would get at this school was important for a person of her social standing. Of course, if she was not happy there, she could always come back immediately and the family would rethink her educational future.

Again, Alana had made meticulous and thorough investigations about various excellent schools and found one that would appeal to Grace’s gentle temperament. That and the promise of generous contributions to the school’s worthy causes if Miss Tsipasis was well looked after had clinched the deal. Although she was sad to leave her childhood friends behind, Grace was thrilled with her new school and had settled down happily. She was still too young to connect this move with Alana’s less than maternal feelings towards her.

Grace came home for major holidays, and each time, Alana was irritated to see the way she was blossoming, also, how easily she and her father continued old conversations as if never interrupted. Still unaware of her beauty, Grace did not seem to notice the heady admiration in all she met. Her black hair, blue eyes, budding poise and unmistakable sexuality turned many admiring heads, and she started getting the media’s attention. Most of the year though, she was away, and Alana had Paul, the house, and world attention all to herself. Paul finally relaxed when he became certain his darling daughter was happy in her new environment.

Things changed abruptly when Grace turned eighteen and came home for good. She started getting seriously noticed, sought after, written about. One would have thought an angel descended from Heaven the way everybody reacted to her presence. So, in Alana’s mind and budding master plan, she had to go; for good. Even her trusted mirror was turning traitor and was no longer confirming her as the most beautiful woman in the world. Her reflected image was a little blurry, with a hard look in the eyes. Her mouth had lost its once soft pout.

(6)

The Black Plan

It had been Alana’s suggestion to hire a bodyguard for Grace. With the recent spate of kidnappings of wealthy young heiresses, no one was safe. Therefore, Manoli became one of the staff at the Villa Daphne and his only job was to guard Grace as unobtrusively as possible.  Alana had personally vetted him for discretion and efficiency and decided that he would do perfectly for what she had in mind.

Alana bided her time. When the invitation to the birthday party in Switzerland arrived, she knew the time was right. She was ready. The first part of her plan had been to study and master the fine art of hypnosis, which she did over the course of one year. She could not risk involving anyone in her plan, therefore she had to do everything herself. She had to be sure there would be no loose strings, either now or later.

Alana did not want to go as far as kill the girl. She found no satisfaction in eliminating a human life. She was no criminal. She just wanted Grace out of her hair and she had hit upon the perfect plan. She would hypnotize her and her bodyguard, then send them off with new identities to a remote location in South America. There, a house was made ready for them, and they would exist as brother and sister under the names of Gino and Maria Gonzales. There was no television, and very few newspapers were circulated in that part of the world, so there was little chance that anyone would recognize them.

The day before Grace was due to travel, she got busy with last-minute shopping and had found a nice birthday present for her friend the week before. Her friend Aleka loved shells and Grace found a beautiful hand mirror and brush set, encrusted with pink shells, for her. That was one of several cute presents she bought, meaning to give her one present each day they were together.

“Would you like to walk with me in the rose garden?” Alana surprised Grace with this unexpected request, as she was breezing into the house, her arms laden with packages, looking flushed and happy with her purchases.

With a million-dollar smile, Grace giggled: “Of course. I’m almost done packing anyway. I’d love to go for a walk with you.”

She dropped the packages by the front door, showing her surprise at the unexpected invitation by nervously tucking a curl behind her ear and smoothing her dress.

Alana had been standing at the front door when Grace arrived from her shopping. She was talking to a man carrying boxes, obviously stuff for a party.

“Just give me a sec. I’m directing the delivery man to the back entrance. I don’t know why he came to the front door. It’s the first time we are using this company and he probably got his instructions wrong.” The Tsipasis were having a small gathering the next evening to take their mind off moping when Grace traveled to Switzerland.

Grace moved tactfully away. She descended the few steps to the garden and waited for her stepmother who soon joined her.

The rose garden of the Villa Daphne was one of the most striking gardens in the area, where roses ruled in riotous colors and scents this time of the year. Grace and Alana strolled between the fragrant bushes, stopping to smile at the antics of a couple of bees trying to out-buzz each other, yo-yo-ing between one flower and the next.

“Look at this bench,” Grace ran forward towards an aged bench of gnarled wood, which looked very old, leaning towards an equally ancient oak tree. It was surrounded by haphazard bunches of wildflowers, contrasting with the orderly serenity of the rose bushes elsewhere in the garden.

Grace ran her hand lovingly over the well-worn wood and said quietly:

“I remember this bench well. My Mom used to like sitting here in the evenings in summer. There is a story she liked to tell about it, which I was too young to recall properly. I only remember her saying it was the most peaceful spot in the garden.” Grace was unable to stop blabbing. Had her step-mother noticed her as a person, at long last? Is that why she was being really nice?

Alana nodded amiably and smiled, sitting down and patting the place beside her for Grace to sit. Glancing about, she breathed: “It is really secluded, isn’t it? And soooo quiet. Whoever sits here cannot be seen from the house. I guess that makes it really serene and peaceful”

‘And just what I need’, she thought.

Smiling back, Grace agreed: “My Mom used to love reading here. I remember sometimes she used to bring her crocheting with her. I did not understand the crochet stuff at the time. All I saw was needles and colored thread.”

Alana hesitated for a minute, letting Grace’s words float between them. Then she took Grace’s hand in hers and started talking to her in a soft, lulling tone, noticing Grace’s surprise at this rare, kind gesture. Grace relaxed quickly and it was easy to hypnotize her. Her breathing became more even. A small smile crept on her lips making her beauty all the more difficult to ignore. Alana kept her voice steady and gentle as she indoctrinated her about her new identity with as much detail as deemed necessary. Grace nodded in unconscious agreement, her happiness at sharing warm moments with her step-mother painted all over her face.

Alana then woke Grace up and they got up from the bench, and started walking back to the house.

“Oh! I did not feel the time pass. It’s as if I slept. Or is it because I’m excited to travel and just zoned out?” Grace looked uncomprehendingly at her watch then at the lengthening shadows that had popped up seemingly out of nowhere. Everything looked more subdued and the chirping of the birds sounded more muted.

“Don’t be silly. Of course, you didn’t sleep. Maybe you were thinking about your friend’s birthday party and just lost track of time. I noticed you zoned out for a bit, so I let you relax.”

‘Brilliant deduction though’, thought Alana. With a contrived smile, which did not stretch beyond her lips, she continued: “It happens to me too when I travel. One minute I have all the time in the world to get ready, the next minute, I am late.”

They both laughed, together, maybe for the first time ever, and perhaps for the last time too.

A couple of hours later, Alana summoned Manoli, the bodyguard, and told him to drive her over to a friend’s house. She sometimes requested he run small errands for her, so he would not find it odd when she summoned him for her master plan. A short distance from the house, Alana asked Manoli to stop the car on the pretext that she wanted to brief him about Grace’s trip away from listening ears. Manoli nodded imperceptibly and steered the powerful BMW to a shoulder of the road where it was safe to park.

 Alana rummaged in her handbag and brought out a small notebook which she pretended to consult. She started talking to Manoli in a monotonous voice, glancing from time to time at the notebook. With his head half-turned towards her, Alana noticed that he was listening to what she was saying but had a far-away look in his eyes, denoting passivity and relaxation. He was there, but not quite there – in an almost dream-like state. So, Alana deftly inserted key words in her instructions, in line with her process of hypnotizing him.

She filled him in on his new identity as she had done with Grace.

“Shall we? I think this is all I need you to do. Try to be as discreet as you can. I know Grace is in good hands with you. If there is anything you are not absolutely sure about, do not hesitate to call us immediately, day or night, understood?” Alana’s changed voice broke the lull, and Manoli snapped back to attention, oblivious to the subliminal message lurking in his brain.

“Of course. You have nothing to worry about,” he said. With that, he put on the left indicator of the car and eased it back into the traffic.

Grace and Manoli were to assume their new personas on the drive to the airport as soon as the terminal buildings came into view from the car.

                                                         ****

Paul was deeply disappointed when a client called him early next morning for an urgent meeting, which prevented him from driving Grace to the airport. Alana hid a satisfied smile at having concocted this plan to keep Paul away from driving his beloved daughter to the airport.

“Don’t worry, Paul. I can drive them to the airport. I have to be on the other side of town anyway and it will be no problem to make the short detour to the airport.”

“That’s my Alana. Always ready to help.” Paul blew her a kiss.

She responded with a wave.

Two sets of identity papers and tickets were ready in her handbag. Alana had prepared a second set of documents with the original names of Grace and Manoli, just in case something went wrong and she had to postpone the master plan. She handed Manoli his and Grace’s bogus papers at the terminal gate and watched them board the flight to Paraguay.

The plane to Switzerland eventually took off without them. Alana did not neglect to recruit two people who looked a lot like Manoli and Grace and bribed them to travel to Switzerland in their place. These were young actors who were thrilled about the adventure, which they thought was an elaborate prank. They were to arrive in Geneva, destroy the fake passports and the ticket receipts and return to Greece under their real identities. Upon their return, Alana planned to erase all memory of the trip from their minds; easy really, if they did not blab about it. Alana made it a point to stress to them that they would be handsomely rewarded if nothing went wrong, and that they would regret it if something did go wrong.

She was not at all worried. Why should she be? The plan was absolutely perfect. Driving back from the airport, she suddenly got nostalgic. She felt an urge to go to Kea for a long-postponed visit with her family; to swim again in the waters of her childhood and visit her old haunts. Was she becoming sentimental? Was the guilt about what she had just done gnawing at her soul? Did she overdo it? A quick worried look at her reflection in the driver’s mirror revealed a short-lived uncertainty. She quickly banished that stray thought, and reached for her handbag to find her cell phone to call Paul. She glanced at her watch and figured he would still be busy with the client. She half-expected him to call her to make sure all had gone according to plan.

‘Oh, come on, Alana,’ she scolded herself. ‘Stay on track. It’s done now.’

She let go of her handbag and decided to fill him in when she got home, over a long, cool drink on the terrace.

The drive back to Athens was uneventful. Alana wistfully thought back to the days when the same drive took one through a charming region dotted with sleepy villages and crowned with church towers and rows of vineyards. Instead, there were radio towers and TV antennas now, a less poetic landscape, a sore sight in the land of heroes and gods. The view had become impersonal, the greenery replaced by unsightly graffiti.

There were always too many cars zooming up and down the six-lane expressway Attiki Odos. Alana was glad their house was on the other side of Athens, where they could still feel the cool sea breeze in the evenings. The high walls around the property also muted the sounds of car horns and the busy, bustling life of a vibrant city, adding to the peace and tranquility of their home.

As soon as the imposing gates of Villa Daphne closed behind her, Alana sped to the front of the house instead of the garage, and ran up to her room. She flung her purse onto her bed and hurried to her faithful mirror, while trying to undo her sandal on the way.

‘Ouch’, Alana mouthed as she stubbed her toe on the foot of the bed. Still wearing one sandal, she hobbled over to the mirror and panted breathlessly: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, now who is the fairest of them all?”

“You, Alana, are the fairest of them all,” the mirror seemed to murmur back.

Alana slowly let out the breath she was holding, in short, jagged, excited bursts. Finally. Something was not right, though. She leaned forward and peered closer at her reflection. She gasped. Was that a line at the corner of her mouth? No, no, it was just the light playing tricks. Still, the fact that her perfection might not be eternal was deeply shocking.

On the other hand, there was still the party later in the evening and she had to get ready. She shrugged off the stray thought.

***

 (7)

News

Next morning, the news was splashed all over the newspapers; flight 622 to Geneva had crashed, killing all on board. Among the names on the passenger list were Grace Tsipasis and Manoli Landris.

Alana was buttering a piece of toast and was just about to add some homemade apricot jam on it when their maid, Maria, burst into the dining room. In surprise, Alana dropped the butter knife she was holding.

The couple were having a leisurely breakfast, and talking about taking a flight to Switzerland to join Grace for a few days in the mountains, after her friend’s birthday festivities were over. The party of the night before had been a great success.

“Let’s surprise her,” Paul chortled with a burst of rare spontaneity. He still felt guilty for not escorting Grace to the airport the day before. He hated it when work interfered with precious family time. Seeing Grace all grown up and almost out in the world on her own gave him pangs of ‘where have all the years suddenly gone’.

Alana just smiled and listened to him making plans. When the maid blew in, flushed and speechless, brandishing the mangled newspaper in the air, both Paul and Alana looked up in surprised horror. Maria was not usually given to outbursts.

Maria was closely followed by Stathis, the butler and the young maid, Rena, who had just started work at the villa that very morning. Stathis was hesitant to enter the room. His large frame blocked the door and silent tears were streaming down his withered cheeks. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. He then took one step forward and Rena, who was standing too close to him, spilled into the room. She had no clue what was going on.

Maria flung the newspaper noisily on the table, covering the butter, jam, and slowly soaking up the olive oil next to the jam, which had spilled. The photo of the crash commanded half the front page and the terrible headlines danced macabrely in their horrified eyes.

Fatal crash. Doomed. Flight 622 from Athens to Geneva. No survivors.

Alana bent down to retrieve the butter knife and to compose herself. She was beside herself with shock and anger. What a pity the real Grace was not on that flight. Her death would have been an act of God and that would have been the end of that! Ah, cruel fate. What a trick to play!

“What’s that? I - don’t understand,” Paul looked uncomprehendingly from Alana to the newspaper to Maria. “That’s not Grace’s flight, is it? Oh my God … NO … why weren’t we informed immediately by the airline … why find out this way?” Paul’s anger rose with his voice, and his face seemed to age 100 years as the realization of losing his treasured daughter crashed unceremoniously into his head.

“There must be some mistake, they would have called us if Grace was dead.” In his desperation, he grabbed Alana’s arm with one hand and took out his cell phone with the other.

“Perhaps not all died. There may still be hope,” his strangled voice caught in his throat as he himself did not believe what he was saying.

The couple stood up abruptly, rattling the cutlery and shaking the dainty plates on the table. Maria was wailing loudly now, her eyes glued to the soggy newspaper, with the photo of the crash slowly drowning in olive oil. Still silent, but with involuntary tears oozing from her unbelieving eyes, Alana reached out to cradle her husband’s head in her arms. His wretched sobs echoed in her heart, stirring long dormant sympathetic feelings, but not quite awakening them. She was furious, but she did love her husband and it was sad to witness his raw pain and utter desperation.

Alana continued to hold Paul, trying to comfort him. She motioned to Maria to clear the table. Maria snapped back from her trance, and sprang into feverish action. Alana struggled to regain some composure. She had to think quickly. She knew that now was the time to act indispensable to Paul. She needed him to lean on her unwavering support, and not simply sag under the burden of his unbearable loss.

                                                              ****

PART III

(8)

After Switzerland

Paul was beyond devastated. Alana was shocked and angry at having been tricked by fate, but pretended that her black mood was the result of crushing grief. Still, she dug deep into the recesses of her soul to find words of comfort for her husband.

“Alana, I can’t do this. I really can’t. It’s too much to bear.”

“Shh. I’m here, agape mou. Anything I can do. Let’s walk a little in the garden. The roses and birds will soothe your heart. You know how Grace loves – I mean loved - the rose garden.”

The mention of Grace triggered another deluge of hot tears.

For days on end, Paul stayed home, unable to go out, see people or work. Alana stayed by his side, quiet, attentive and considerate, doing all she could to ease his pain. She manifested her caring in small, subtle ways, nursing his grief and postponing hers, seeing to his needs first and then to her own. Her love for him went deeper than the old woman’s curse, and it sustained them both in their moments of unbearable anguish.

                                                       ****

Seven years passed since the tragedy. Normal life gradually returned to Villa Daphne. Paul, though, was a changed man. Suddenly, he looked old and weary. Alana was frightened. She was not ready to lose him, not yet anyway.

Slowly, their life swung back into full gear. Paul’s cousin Mimi was often around and her kind presence was welcome to both Paul and Alana. It was like she offered a bridge between their despair and the return to an almost normal life. In time, they became convinced that there was indeed light at the end of the tunnel.

Once again, there were parties, outings with friends, trips abroad. Guests came to stay, always full of praise for the tasteful, thoughtful arrangements, and for the hostess who was attuned to their needs and wants. Paul would smile indulgently at the care and attention she showered on their friends. He thought she was compensating for the loss of Grace ….

****

“I want us to do something different,” Paul announced one day. “Let’s go on the trip we’ve been postponing for years.” He grabbed Alana by the waist and drew her to him, nuzzling her neck, which made her wiggle and giggle. He knew she was ticklish there.

“What trip have we been postponing for years?” Alana was genuinely taken by surprise.

“Remember, you’ve been promising for years to show me your special beach? The one that made you a nymph of the sea? My nymph of the sea.”

“KEA!” Alana threw back her head in a delighted laugh, revealing small, pearly teeth. ‘Does this woman have no imperfections?’ thought Paul.

“On one condition, Paul”, she picked up the slack. “Let’s make it a complete break. No work, no parties, no strain, just the two of us and the island. My mother will be delighted.”

Was it emotion on overdrive, but that night, Alana dreamt of the woman who had cursed her. Her odious voice reverberated in her skull:

‘Your future is black.’

She woke with a start and shook her head to clear it. She promised herself to buy the blue eye amulet in Kea, to keep the Evil Eye away.

They sailed to Kea a few days later. Alana had mixed emotions about the trip. She had been putting off visiting the island for years, although it was just a stone’s throw away from Athens. She felt good about going there this time. Both she and Paul needed this private time together, plus she missed her mother, Aglaia. It had always been easier to invite her mother to Athens a few times a year, exploring new places together, going to shows, enjoying Greek music in one of Plaka’s tiny outdoors cafés, and mostly the divine shopping they always found time for. Aglaia was like a child in a candy story whenever she came to Athens. On a more personal note, she also seemed to bring out the best in Alana, so both women enjoyed the visits and never tired of exploring the city and its surroundings. They’d visit museums and churches, and often had lunch in out-of-the-way restaurants, some of which were perched on edges of mountain tops, overlooking the shimmering indigo waters of the Aegean Sea. Sometimes, Grace would accompany them on these excursions till one day, Alana’s mother had remarked:

“Quite the beauty, this little one, don’t you think?”

Grace did not get to go anywhere with them after that.

                                                  ****

As soon as the first hint of land appeared on the horizon, Alana forgot her misgivings about her long overdue visit to the island and could hardly wait for their yacht to dock. The island looked just as she had left it, yet upon closer inspection, nothing was the same. Fish shops and haphazardly dotted vegetable stalls had given way to souvlaki stands and souvenir shops. The tourism bug had bitten Kea too.

It was a little disappointing for Alana that no one rushed to greet the island’s prodigal daughter, who finally deigned to visit her birthplace. Her anticipated grand entrance fell flat. There were many tourists strolling around, and nobody noticed her. She and Paul were one more visiting couple.

A bratty “Oh,” escaped her lips before she quickly regained her composure. She shrugged nonchalantly, fumbled for her large sunglasses and rearranged her yellow straw hat to obscure what the sunglasses did not cover. This way, she could pretend they did not recognize her.

Two small boys materialized out of nowhere and clung to her skirt, “Hotel? hotel?” chirped one and the other just tugged. Each boy was urging her in a different direction, pointing vaguely inland.

Alana shook them off.

“OXI!”

Her withering ‘no’ scalded the kids like boiling water and they fell away, staring at her in astonishment. Without missing a beat, Alana turned to Paul, who was a few steps behind.

“Shall we? I think I still remember the way to the house. Let’s walk. It’s not too far.” She put her arm in his and leaned in, swallowing her bad mood.

“What did those children want?”

“Hahaha, they thought we were tourists looking for a hotel.”

Paul chuckled. “Oh boy, has no place on earth escaped commercialization?”

“I hope my little beach has.”

With that, the couple meandered through the narrow streets towards Alana’s mother’s house. Visiting the island on this spontaneous trip, taking a clean break from the heartache, the stress and the pressures of life promised a little peace, a touch of serenity and calm to both Paul and Alana. Alana couldn’t think of a happier time in her life except the year she had met Paul - nothing could compare to that.

Alana knew that her mother, Aglaia, was ready to do everything she could to make

them comfortable and would spoil them shamelessly. She saw her mother make the sign of the cross when they approached the house that day, arm in arm, laughing and acting silly. Her mother had never hidden how proud she was of her beautiful daughter. However, as she ran to meet and hug them, Alana couldn’t hide the black emptiness in her eyes which Aglaia saw and seemed to flinch visibly.

“Come in, come in,” Aglaia invited them into the house, but her voice was shaky. “What took you so long? It’s not that far from the quay.”

“Oh, mother! Where is the Kea I once knew! I did not recognize anyone and nobody welcomed me. Has the entire population been switched?” She pouted. “ I missed seeing Kostas, sharpening his fish knives by the docks. He was a fixture there, always ready to dish out advice or practice his cursing.”

“Alana dear, you’ve been away for a long time. Everyone’s still here. They just got older and it is their children who are out and about now.” Aglaia bustled around the kitchen, getting the meal on the table. She seemed nervous and avoided looking into her daughter’s eyes.

‘What’s got into her?’ Alana thought. ‘Is it my hair?’

“Are you okay, mama?”

Across the sunny kitchen, Aglaia pretended not to hear.

The next few days were magical for Alana and Paul. They explored the island, ate, slept and in the evenings found themselves at her special beach, which so far had escaped the inevitable transformation of the rest of the island. Alana showed Paul where she used to dive from into the crystal waters, where she floated when thinking about Daphne, the sea nymph, and where she had almost drowned one day. They slept under the stars, made love, acted like children, and swam lazily in the sea, which slowly washed away their tension and softened their grief.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” said Paul, a couple of days into their trip. “You know, we should have done this with Grace. It’s so beautiful here.”

They were sitting at the very edge of the sand, their feet occasionally nibbled by the tiny fish that swam in the shallows. Alana nodded gently in apparent agreement but did not say anything.

                                                          ****

Reluctantly, one morning a week later, Paul turned to her and said: “My love, I think we need to get back. We must return here soon, though. You were right, it is a magical place.”

But was it ‘magical’ enough? That night, Alana dreamt again of her encounter with the woman who had cursed her in the street. Her dream was an exact repetition of what had happened in real life. The evil eyes, the pointing finger, the dying of her soul. She woke up, panting and hearing herself begging “Let me be me. Let me be me.”

But the curse was strong. It would not let go of her. 

        ****

  (9)

  Unexpected Twist

One day, a young man, traveling in a remote region in Paraguay came across a beautiful girl in the hills. The girl had run away on sight. He was intrigued but it happened so quickly that he was ready to believe she had been an apparition. He searched the surrounding area in vain and finally gave up, vowing that one day he would be back to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Fate was at her tricks again. This same person came to one of the Tsipasis’ parties as the guest of a good friend of theirs. His name was Alexander Clifton and he was an attractive and well-spoken man. He seemed to like the Tsipasis couple and invited them to dinner the following week. They saw him quite frequently after that. Paul seemed to like Alexander too and soon, they started discussing business ventures together, notwithstanding that Alexander was much younger than Paul. His excellent business acumen and sharp mind bridged the years between them like ice cream and apple pie.

One evening, after dinner at the Villa Daphne, Paul said to Alana: “I’m borrowing Alex for a few minutes in my study. I need to show him the documents I used in yesterday’s proposal to the Government, you know, the one regarding the water project. Why don’t you join us in a bit, honey?”

“Okay. I’ll see with Stathis and Maria if we have any non-decadent dessert after the delicious kleftiko lamb we just had.” Alana laughed and patted her stomach. Her light purple dress did look a little stretched over her otherwise perfect figure.

How quaint, Alexander thought as he entered the old-fashioned study, furnished in complete contrast to the rest of the house. No designer touches anywhere. It was as if time and modernization had overlooked it, yet it exuded calm and elegance, in line with Paul’s serene character. The two men went over to the desk and pored over the water project documents.

A few minutes later, Alana entered the study and made her way to the small bar in the corner.

“Let’s drink to the success of this project, even if it’s still on paper. I have a feeling it’s going to have quite an impact. Are you almost done?”

Paul looked up. He smiled at her encouraging words and said:

“Ah, I wish it were that simple but we’re trying.” He moved towards her and continued: “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to drink this evening. I know you like me to surprise you with the flavor du jour. Let me fix something for you, then I need to run upstairs to bring the thingummy gadget to show Alex? You know, the one we bought yesterday. Can’t for the life of me remember its name.” He had waited for Alana to join them so as not to leave his guest alone in the room.

“You’re not still thinking about that silly contraption, are you?” Alana laughed. “It’s simply a box, just cleverly concealed in stuff.”

She watched Paul expertly mix and pour a new concoction for her to try. Then he left the study.

“Cheers, Alana.” Alexander raised his glass from the other side of the desk. He then wandered slowly around the interesting room, picking up and admiring small objets d’art that Paul had collected over the years from his travels around the world. Alana gazed absentmindedly at his back, thinking ahead with plans for the next day.

Alexander reached the far end of the study and stood for a long time gazing up at a portrait of Grace, which hung on the wall opposite Paul’s desk. The painting was framed in an antique, burnished gold frame. The painter’s talent had brought to life Grace’s timeless beauty and it was difficult to look at the painting and not fall under its spell. Turning around at that moment, Alana bristled as she saw the admiration in Alexander’s eyes.

‘God, how I hate her’, she thought.

“Who is that?” asked Alexander in a strangely hushed voice.

“That’s Grace, Paul’s daughter. She was killed eight years ago in a plane crash.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I must have been abroad at the time.” He did not say anything else.

Shortly after the incident, Alex informed them that he was flying to America on business. He was not sure how long he would be absent but would call them upon his return.

****

 “Hello Mimi, do you have a moment to chat?” Alana and Mimi had grown close over the years.

“Sure. Hang on a sec. Just shoving a last spoonful of peas into Junior.” Mimi snorted as she visualized what she was saying. “You sound pretty upbeat, Alana. What’s up?”

Alana was hardly able to contain her excitement at what she was about to reveal to Mimi.

“I am thinking of finally launching my designer line. Would you like to work with me?”

Alana heard a loud clatter at the other end of the line. She smiled. She knew Mimi had dropped the phone - and the spoon.

A moment later, Mimi’s voice came back: “I had no idea. You clever girl, you! How many years has it been since you told me about it? It was at that party, you know, before Grace’s ….” In a more hushed tone, she picked up: “I’m glad you’re finally going to use that amazing head of yours for business, and a fun one at that.”

Alana admitted she was finally coming around with her plans to open a boutique. She told Mimi that Paul had been trying to make her take that first step for quite some time. The label she chose was “Enchant” and her creations were to do just that: enchant. They were going to be every woman’s dream clothes, exotic, daring and unique! In one word – enchanting.

A little later, in her room, musing about her project and watching her reflection in her ornate full-length mirror, Alana smiled to think that she, herself, was actually the best walking advertisement for the “Enchant” label. She twirled around and inspected her silhouette closely. Perfect! She was glad she had long ago resisted the idea of having children. It might have spoilt her figure and that was a risk she could do without.  Look what it had done to Mimi’s figure. She also mostly resisted the delicious concoctions Maria was adamant to keep creating in the kitchen. Working hard to make her ‘Enchant’ plan come to life, Alana sometimes forgot to eat.

Of late though, Alana had started thinking about Grace Tsipasis again. Perhaps she should have had her killed, after all. Maybe, just maybe it was still not too late for that. Ye-es. Giggling with the anticipation of further masterminding, she sat on her bed and reached for a sweet. It had certainly been a long time since that last masterpiece of a plan! Yes. After opening her first boutique, Alana would travel to Paraguay. No. The timing wouldn’t work. She’d be too busy by then. She should do it before she proceeded any further with her business venture.

Alana felt a delicious tingle run down her spine and she knew she was on to something exciting. In fact, she should have done it a long time ago. She’d tell Paul she needed some authentic South American touches for her first boutique – exotic and colorful materials, fresh ideas and perhaps even a gorgeous South American model or two. Yes, the excuse was plausible enough. She shrugged off the tiny pang of guilt that dared sneak into her soul.

****

 (10)

 Full Circle

Three weeks passed since Alexander Clifton went on his business trip. One afternoon, he phoned to say he was back from his trip and was coming over with a fantastic surprise for the Tsipasis.

It was Sunday, the weather was superb and it looked that nothing could possibly mar the perfection of that summer’s day. While they waited, Paul poured them both a drink and they relaxed in a rare tête-à-tête, waiting for Alexander and wondering what his surprise was going to be.

“A llama perhaps,” ventured Alana, lazily tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hahaha, certainly not,” retorted Paul. “Llamas are native to South America. I think he went to the US. I bet it’s a girlfriend.”

“You are probably right. You know, for someone we see often, we really don’t know much about Alex.” With that, Alana rose to refresh her drink. They were intrigued because over the phone, Alexander had sounded like a schoolboy who had stumbled upon the secret of the universe.

The doorbell rang. Paul and Alana turned simultaneously towards the door to greet their guest. Alexander was ushered in, followed by two other people. The welcoming smiles froze on the couple’s faces as they recognized Grace and Manoli. There could be no mistake. Even after all these years, who could mistake that face?

For the first time in her life, Alana was caught off guard. Before she could bluff her way out of this one, she blurted out the one word which could wake Grace up from her trance: “Grace!”

Grace’s transformation was dramatic. Only Alana’s voice calling her by her name could wake her up and Alana had done just that.

Alana did not wait to see its effect. She ran out of the room as that hated voice rang out: “Daddy! Daddy!”

Alana flew up to her room and locked the door behind her. She leaned on it for a moment, panting, her breath jagged, her heart beating painfully in her chest. She was furious. How could such a thing have happened? Her rage and anger knew no bounds. She rummaged frantically in her drawers for the small pistol she kept for safety. She could already imagine Paul’s horror and revulsion when he found out what had really gone on for many years, and she could not face that. She cared about what he thought of her and couldn’t bear to have him hate her. One more time, Grace was the wedge that marred her happiness.

“Kill her now!” hissed a little voice in Alana’s brain. But she knew it was too late for that now. She was tired.

But she would not be defeated.

Just then, there was a loud, insistent knock on her door which escalated into loud pounding on the heavy wood. Alana raised the gun to her head tremblingly. What a pity her beauty was to end in such an ugly manner.

Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Again, Alana marveled at how dramatically attractive she looked: her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, her eyes large and staring, staring at her reflection.

Alana put down the gun without looking where, no longer hearing the commotion outside. Vaguely, she was aware that they were trying to break down the heavy door.

She walked very slowly towards the mirror as if in a trance, drawn by a mysterious, compelling force. She reached the polished surface, and, without pausing, walked through to the other side.

THE END

Afterthought

In Greek mythology, the goddess Eris was the least-liked deity. She was the daughter of Zeus and Hera. Because of her inclination to cause discord, she had not been invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Achilles’ parents, to which all the other gods and goddesses were invited. To note that Peleus was a mortal king and Thetis was a sea nymph, so it was the union of a mortal with deity.

As revenge for that slight, Eris made her way to the wedding party but did not join the revelers. She carried a golden apple on which she had inscribed “To the Fairest of Them All”.

She dropped the Apple of Discord among three gorgeous goddesses, Hera, Aphrodite and Athena, who were chatting together. A vanity-fueled quarrel broke out between them over who was the fairest and deserved the apple. Handsome Paris, Prince of Troy was appointed by Zeus to solve the dispute. He chose Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and love, who had promised him as reward, the only thing he was missing: a partner to stand by his side. That was Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world, and wife of King Menelaus, King of Sparta. History confirms that this is why the Trojan War was fought, which led to the destruction of Troy. 

Eris is thought to have inspired a number of evil characters in fairytales, including Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty.  

Andie Petrides, Greece

#dylanday

Andie Petrides was born in the Middle East to Greek parents. She grew up in Amman, Jordan in a small, close-knit Greek community of a dozen families who tried to keep alive the Greek traditions and language in a foreign environment.

Andie holds a Master’s degree in International Business after studying Biology as an undergrad. Today, she is the Director of the Hellenic Writers Group of Washington DC (HWGW) and a Division Director of District 105 in Toastmasters.

Always an avid reader, Andie is fluent in four languages (English, French, Greek and Arabic). She is a writer of children’s fiction and also works as a freelance proofreader. She likes to use poetry for personal expression.