Week 3, Story, The Oracle of Apollo.

 

High on her bestowed pedestal sits Psyche; beauty comparable to divinity, to that of Venus herself. But beauty means nothing if loneliness takes root in the heart and as she watched her sisters, heralded as much plainer in looks, marry off whilst she remained as statuesque, Psyche cursed her fates cruelty. It took a father to seek an understanding for this chain of events; after all, the cruelty of loneliness for one of his beloved daughter's was too much to witness.

Seek the Oracle of Apollo and hope, father of Psyche, that her fate turns does not continue with its unfortunate tune. With prayer and sacrifice did he ask the god for a man that would marry his daughter; oh, to have the words erased from his heart forever for they are too dismal.

Daughter of Mortality, bestowed with beauty compared to Venus.
Dressed in her wedding best, the King and Father will lead her to
her cursed end. An evil will take her, one that makes Gods and 
Men alike tremble in revulsion. This, sweet Psyche, will endure.

Leave, does the father, knowing that Oracles cannot be changed, and he mustn't act spitefully at the gracious words Apollo has given unto him. Still, that did not stop the sorrow from gripping his heart; his sorrow being shared with his wife. Mournful lamentations echoed the halls until it was time for Psyche's fateful wedding. Deck the girl in her red finery, let her veil cover the tears that smudge delicate features - those akin to beautiful Venus's. Her wedding procession, more a funeral than naught, guides her to her demise. The lamentations and whispers of sorrow ring hollow in the girl's ears; there is nothing that can be changed of her fate, but why should they mourn a loss that will surely heal like any other? This, she voices.

"Why weep, why moan, why waste tears on this corpse?" Her voice steady, that of someone who has had to grow up so very quickly. The people and her parents are shocked to hear the girl's voice, let alone the words that leave her lips. Psyche will weep for herself, for who wishes to ever die, but her fate has been decided, and who is she to try and escape such inevitability. "Your tears come freely now, and it gladdens my heart to know that there are so many who care for me. Yet, I am but another fate that will come to pass. My demise has been foretold, but the ache will subside as all wounds do. Gladden your hearts, please, to know that you are with me to the end."

And so the lamentations stopped, the procession continued until they came upon their destination. Leave the girl upon the mountain, echoes the Oracles words in the minds of all. How they all hate to leave such a precious creature by her lonesome in such a dismal place. But what choice have they? She would just scold them all.

Psyche's Wedding (Pre-Raphaelite, 1895) by Edward Burne-Jones

With a last longing look from her parents, the people leave. The torches they carried dimming now, following in their sorrow; the flowers that had been clasped in ladies palms weeping with their falling petals. And it was by chance, simple as the universe pitying the girl, that her end was not met, but something more exhilarating occurred. A new fate, so to speak.

Author's Note: So, I decided to write the story (The Oracle of Apollo) more in my style of storytelling. It doesn't necessarily follow grammatical or actual storytelling guidelines just because, personally, I find this more pleasing. My intention was to keep it shorter and sweet, along with keeping what is going to happen to her more ambiguous. Other then that, I followed the format of the story in how the progression of events went, but put them completely in my own words.