Her succulent little toes curling in the sand, she stood before him reverently – almost bowed – slender of body and sharp of mind; occasionally tilting her head upwards to catch a ray of sunshine and smiling as the light struck her youthful forehead. He was her father, a prominent international diplomat known for his cordial, gentlemanly manners, his lyrical command of language and his graceful, athletic physique – one which resembled, with astonishing accuracy, the muscular and toned body of an ancient Greek Adonis. His honoured lineage, of which his aforementioned daughter was the first born, were endowed not only with his natural proclivity for linguistic excellence but also his astounding physical beauty. Such a profound combination struck fear into the hearts of even the greatest of men and so it was, she had never known the soft touch of a lover thus far in her cosy sheltered lifetime.
A strange loneliness enveloped her as an adolescent. She enviously observed her peers, even those so painfully ordinary, despite her having the poetic grace and elegant intellect of a Primma Donna; for she was like a blazing bright star in the night sky, her radiance was blinding. Shrewdly noticing this peculiar paradox, her father questioned himself secretly whether her majestic beauty was not a gift, but a curse, for it so sharply distinguished and thus isolated her from her peers. For who can stand beside a Goddess and not feel the sting of insecurity and inadequacy? Who can converse with a genius without feeling the cutting sensation of intellectual inferiority? Who can look upon the life of a Saint and not feel gnawing regret for a lifetime of selfish and shallow acts of hedonism?
And yet still, her delicate heart, her holy soul, succumbed not to resentment, nor rage, nor did her ego feast upon her unparalleled excellence, nor was she embittered by her isolation, nor did she revel in the many golden compliments that were showered down upon her. Instead, her mind turned towards the Lord, like a compass points north, like a bird migrates to greener pastures, like a beautiful soul ascends to heaven upon the perishing of its mortal corporeal form.
Her maternal ancestors were famous amongst religious communities for their devout spirituality, their philosophical acuity and first and foremost, their sincerity. In the Lord, she found a companion, a friend to whom she could turn, one to whom she could openly divulge her deepest thoughts, one whose stare did not burn with silent envy, one whose loving embrace contained not a single shred of sinister or ulterior motivation, one whose tender and passionate paternal love was not tainted with sycophancy or false flattery, one who truly knew the motion of her soul, the depths of her mind, the loneliness that ached in her heart at night as she looked up at the starry sky and yearned for connection.
Short Story by Stamos Mardou