Perfect Love

Perfect Love
A Blessing or Loss

Although her heart leapt with excitement, her eyes registered doubt. 

Shadows had chased her for years.  Her secret bound her to silence and indifference.  Was it worth it to take a chance? 

He embodied everything she felt she had ever wanted in a man.  He wasn’t too tall or short.  Limber enough to waltz gracefully around the dance floor, which they had just accomplished.  His fine suit accentuated his straight back.  The merriment in his smile and dark eyes glimmering under the cascading light of the chandelier shot darts into her heart. 

He led her back to the perimeter of gilded chairs, a slight bow and then turning his back he took up the next dance with a woman in a couture blonde wig.

Katrina felt her blood rise.  She fretted.  What was she to do?

A small voice crept into her mind, “Bewitch him.”  Katrina shuddered.  She’d never used her legacy of witchcraft.  She’d never needed to until now. 

Her wide set eyes moistened with longing and her soft lips quivered at the thought of losing him.  He was perfect. 

Following every move he made on the dance floor, she tossed her golden ringlets in disgust vowing he would be hers.

A still small voice kept whispering to her, “Magic.”

Katrina stomped her foot in abhorrence.  Dismissing wicked thoughts she wandered out into the courtyard for some air and peace.  The stars reached down, wrapping themselves around her in a melody of light and power.  Under the basking of the full moon she sensed the power in her growing.  She fought it with all her being.

“No!  I don’t want him that way,” she murmured to herself.  She trembled with impotence as the waves of jealousy and fear rose inside her.  “No. No. No!”

Katrina fled the castle.  Finding herself beyond the moat and deep into the forest, she lay at the base of a giant oak whose canopy allowed little starlight to seep though.  Distressed and exhausted from the internal battle, she slept fitfully.  Dreams of grandeur and evil assaulted her throughout the remaining hours of darkness.

The sun rose amidst fog and clouds that misted over the isles, leaving everything in its wake damp and clammy. 
Awaking, Katrina gathered her skirts, noticing the finery from the previous night had disintegrated into rags and she had lost one of her golden slippers.

Burying her head in her hands she cried in despair.  Katrina was sure now she should have used magic to capture the love of her life.  Obviously, it was too late.  Who would find her attractive now, in rags and barefoot?

She made her way to the path that led to the road and hoped she could find a peasant wagon to get her back to the village.  It was difficult to keep her head clear, visions of the night before kept swirling before her.  The Duke, the dance, the voices… all reeled in and out of her consciousness.

Katrina stood by the side of the road and waited for something, anything that would help her get home.

Suddenly a barrage of trumpets sounded.  Alert by the side of the road, fiddling with her hair and skirts, hoping no one would notice her disheveled appearance.  She plucked out twigs from her hair and smoothed her ‘once and only ball gown.’

A runner on a single horse darted past her followed by a team of 8 white horses, drawing a coach.
Katrina realized it was the Duke’s coach and tried to flee. 

“Whoa,” called the driver.  The coach stopped.  The footmen opened the door and the Duke from the night before stepped out.  His gray hair glitterd in the buttery morning light and his suit that had shown off his figure the night before was wrinkled, sagging around his protruding belly.

Katrina blinked.  She could not believe her eyes.  Knowing she had the power to reverse everything she saw including the events of last night, she trembled.

The Duke witnessed her shabby dress and disheveled condition.  Haling the driver,  “Ho, this is not the lady I seek, move on!” he announced, returning to the privacy of his coach.

Katrina slipped helplessly onto the ground. 

She processed the events of the night before. If she had used her witchery powers, what would haven been the outcome?  Would she have always seen him as he’d been last night?  Would he have always seen her in her finery and golden light?

The answers to these questions bounced around in her head until her head ached.

Katrina swept the forest debris from her skirts and began the solitary walk back to the village.

She may have not gotten the ‘love of her life’ this time but she realized the power or the opportunity to wield power, certainly required more experience.

In the future, she’d be more careful about who she thought might be the ‘Perfect Love.’

[WC: 822]