Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales

by Alethea Kontis

  There was a desperation as she worked, knowing that any day, Pygmalion might be torn from her. The blissful dreams they shared together at night were now filled with storms, with urgent voices telling Galatea she must hurry. She must run.

  Finally, one fateful afternoon, Galatea stopped.

  The calling of Aphrodite was sated.

  The statue was done.

  She stepped back to admire her handiwork and it took her breath away. Pygmalion seemed to be something she was not capable of creating. Every inch of him was perfection. Every aspect executed far beyond her skill.

  He was taller than a man and his head was covered with detailed curls. His legs were laced and ribboned by his sandals. He was bare-chested apart from a single drape of his short chiton. It crossed his body from his broad shoulder to his waist and looked like it might, at any time, flutter in the wind.

  It was the movement of the marble that made him so exceptional. He leaned, as if inviting the onlooker to grab his outstretched hand and come with him on great adventures. His feet looked as if they were caught midstride as he trippingly leaped into a dance. His face carried a smile. The crinkles around his eyes carried mirth. And it was all so real, Galatea had to rub her own eyes and look again to make sure he had not moved.

  She placed her sand cloth down upon her workbench and took a deep breath. Exhaustion filled her limbs, as if all the days from the many months she spent in her studio came now to take their toll.

  She pushed aside the door and exited to the garden.

  But she had not checked to see where her aunt was, and that was a fatal mistake.

  Rhodope sat on a bench beneath a pomegranate tree, as if waiting for Galatea to be done. She waved her over and, reluctantly, Galatea crossed.

  "I have found you the most suitable match!" Rhodope exclaimed.

  "But the statues for the temple…" Galatea said, reminding her aunt. "The goddess Aphrodite must still be carved. She will be displeased if I do not finish."

  "Bah! The goddess! You make me laugh! These are the fictions and lies of your own mind. They are your own fears, which serve as a convenient mask. It is your own want to stay locked up in that horrible studio forever, not the goddess!"

  "You would challenge the goddess's will?" asked Galatea, horrified by her aunt's words.

  "Your understanding of the goddess's will is as imaginary as your imagined love. I present you with REAL love! A REAL gift from Aphrodite!"

  Galatea's mind worked furiously, trying to think of an argument that might win Rhodope's understanding. "If I do not finish the second statue, there will be financial repercussions," she warned. "The temple gods will not be pleased with only one statue when they have ordered two."

  Rhodope leaned forward. "I have been looking at this household's accounts and you are an added expense. Statues take time and, let me tell you, you will have plenty of time for your hobbies in the home of a husband. I am not saying you cannot continue your 'work for the goddess' or what have you. But the time is passing and soon you will be old. I know what is best." She clapped her fragile hands. "You shall be the first couple to wed in the new temple of Aphrodite. Isn't it auspicious? For the daughter of the builder to bless the temple not just with her work, but her soul?"

  There was a finality to Rhodope's words that cautioned Galatea not to argue any further tonight.

  "And who am I to wed?" Galatea asked, her breath catching in her throat.

  "Adrastus."

  "No," Galatea whispered in horror. "No! Please! Of all the men in the village, please not him!"

  "But why?" asked Rhodope, her smile becoming tight with Galatea's ingratitude. "It is your obligation! Personal happiness must subordinate to the well-being of the city. He is wealthy, which benefits us, and I'm sure he will be able to sire children which benefits you. It is no great loss if you dislike him! As the law states, if he cannot sire children, you are free to take a second husband. And you can encourage him to take a concubine. But of course, if you can't have children, well, then I'm afraid the estate shall have to go to my children." She gave Galatea a shrewd glance.

  "This is my father and mother's home," Galatea whispered. "I have lived here my entire life."

  "Such a pity," Rhodope frowned. "I'm sure you have many things to pack, then. Why are you so upset? Your uncle is most generous. More generous than I would be. Tomorrow night he is holding the formality of the bridal games where all the suitors in town have a chance to compete for your hand. The race shall take place in moonlight, with oil lamps burning and a feast laid out. Won't that be lovely? And who knows? If you are so opposed to Adrastus, perhaps Adrastus shall not be the winner. But you had better find yourself a champion if you wish to alter your future. Or ask that goddess of yours to stop it if this is not her will!"

  Galatea stood, almost knocking over a pedestal that held a bronze figure of a laughing satyr.

  "Careful, girl!" Rhodope yelled. "That is expensive!" Rhodope softened. "You are merely a nervous bride. By next week, you shall be married beneath the shadow of that statue, the one that you have completed with such care. Is it not fitting and right? That you should be the first one to marry beneath his gaze?"

  But Galatea was not listening. Her heart was pounding. She could not catch her breath. Her vision was becoming dark and narrow. In horror, she backed out of the garden, fleeing to the only place she knew she was safe.

  Tomorrow she would be engaged to a man who was known to be cruel and unkind. A man who was single only because no other woman in the town would have him.

  She pushed aside the fabric door and there was her Pygmalion, standing in the moonlight, waiting as he always did for her. She could have imagined that he was alive and smiling as she entered, like a lover welcoming someone home.

  Desperately, she threw her arms around his neck.

  "Oh," she cried. "I have been abandoned by Aphrodite! I am condemned to a fate worse than death! I am no more than barter between two buyers. And by next week, I will be forced to spend the rest of my days walking beside a man whom I hate, a man whose every breath I despise."

  Her tears ran down her face and splashed down the marble. "If only you were alive. If only you were allowed to be the man that I have dreamed you to be. Why is love reserved for others? Why is love a gift never meant for me? Alas! Alas! I wish I would die!"

  The marble said nothing.

  Galatea wiped her tears and stepped away, suddenly feeling foolish for searching for comfort in the arms of a stone.

  "I must find a champion, my love!" she whispered. "I must find a man willing to run a race, for the winner shall own my hand. But there is no champion. There is none! And I am lost!"

  * * *

  Her dreams were filled with terrors, for Pygmalion was not there. She would wake in a cold sweat, but the moment she fell asleep again, she found herself back in a maze of darkness, calling for her lover who existed no longer.

  The next day, she was not allowed to go into her studio. Instead, she was primped and pampered in preparation for the evening's race. The town was abuzz with the thought of such merriment. Her trembling lip and streaming eyes were dismissed as the nerves of a young bride.

  Evening fell and all the young men came out to the track to race for her hand. The city gathered. Plates of stuffed grape leaves and dried fruit were passed among the crowds as the air hung thick with the smell of the dinner feast.

  Tall braziers lined the start and finish line, but the rest of the route through the forest and back again remained unlit. Galatea would have bet her father's entire holdings that this had been the request of Adrastus so he might trip his opponents, push them aside, cheat without witness, and ensure he won no matter the cost.

  Adrastus stretched his legs and limbered up for his run. He gave her a bold wink and blew a kiss, which the crowd greeted with roaring approval. Two runners did not join in the cheers. They were the brothers of Adrastus's first bride.

  "Oh… that I was not abandoned…" Galatea whisper
ed, the crowd delighting in her distress. "Oh, Aphrodite… I have poured my heart and soul and all the gifts and talents I have to your service… You who have brought love into my days and nights… hear my plea. Even if it means ending my life, do not condemn me to an eternity with this monster, Adrastus. End my life before he can end mine."

  A hush fell upon the crowd as the racers lined up at the starting line.

  But then they were joined by a man no one had ever seen before.

  He was tall and from tip-to-toe, he was the palest white. The curls on his head never moved, the folds of his short chiton shifted stiffly with each step. He looked neither right nor left, but silently took his place.

  The city began to murmur, wondering who this stranger could be. Grown women blushed and giggled, staring at his form.

  Galatea, though, found her tears drying as hope sprang in her chest.

  It must be a dream.

  Perhaps she would wake up and realize that she was not to marry.

  That there was no race.

  That this was all the madness of her mind.

  For she knew this man.

  They had spent every night and day together for close to a year. She knew every inch of him, for she had shaped him, she had made him with her own hands.

  It was her Pygmalion.

  And then, with a motion from Nikomedes, the men were off.

  The runners flew into the forest. Adrastus was in third place as the two brothers claimed the lead. Pygmalion's arms and legs pumped in steady rhythm and did not seem to tire.

  As the entire pack disappeared into the darkness, a cry rang out from the forest.

  "Is that my Dymas?" a mother cried. "DYMAS!"

  Galatea was sure she knew what had happened to the mother's son, for he had been in the lead.

  Another cry rang out.

  "Ilus?" an elderly father shouted. "Ilus? Are you harmed?"

  Neither of the brothers emerged or called back to say that they were all right.

  The mother and father took off across the field towards the woods. Galatea turned to her uncle to see if he knew what fate had befallen these two men who had dared to challenge Adrastus. Her uncle's jaw was set. He would not recognize any foul play. He would not admit it if Adrastus did anything wrong. He did not care. He only wanted to be rid of Galatea.

  As the runners emerged from the trees, Adrastus was in the lead with the rest of the boys lagging far behind, some of them not even bothering to run. Their faces were fearful and they glanced back at the forest.

  But suddenly, bursting from the trees was Pygmalion, sprinting faster than any man had ever run before. And over his two shoulders he carried the two unconscious boys. His stride was steady. He seemed to float rather than run. The weight of his two human charges did not slow him down. He flew past the pack. He ate up the distance between himself and Adrastus.

  The crowd was on their feet, screaming for him to go faster, to bring those boys home before their abuser could reach the finish line.

  And the loudest of all was Galatea, calling the only man she ever wanted to spend eternity with to hurry home to her arms.

  It was neck and neck as Pygmalion caught up with Adrastus. One beside the other, they turned the final corner and made their way to the final stretch. Furious, Adrastus tried to push Pygmalion away, but he would have had more luck trying to push a boulder. Pygmalion did not stray so much as an inch from his intended path.

  And then Pygmalion pulled ahead of the jealous boy and crossed over the finish line.

  "We have THREE winners for my niece to choose from!" exclaimed Nikomedes.

  A roar rose from the throats of the crowd as gently, Pygmalion placed the two boys down on the grass next to the engagement feast.

  And then Adrastus crossed the finish line.

  The entire party erupted into chaos as the other runners in the pack shouted their accusations at Adrastus.

  Half the town rushed to the two unconscious boys to see if they were alive. Several people ran into the woods to find the mother and father, now lost in the search for their sons. Furious, Adrastus began shoving Pygmalion in a fit of temper. Pygmalion did not budge. Instead, he tilted back his head and laughed.

  And it was a laugh that Galatea knew from her dreams. It was the laugh that lingered in the morning light and told her, no matter what, all would be right.

  Adrastus picked up one of the standing braziers and brandished it at Pygmalion. The coals fell and caught the grass on fire. The crowd began to scream with fear as they all sprang into action to stomp it out and douse it with water and wine.

  Nikomedes and Rhodope were shouting for calm as panic set into the crowd. The mob surged past Galatea as she scanned every face for her Pygmalion. But he had disappeared.

  Her uncle and aunt furiously tried to put out the flames and call their guests back to the feast.

  Galatea did not step forward to help.

  Instead, she ran to the house, stripping off her sandals and hiking up the silky shift of her chiton so her legs could stretch and go faster.

  The entire house was quiet, every servant called down to the field to fight the fire. Instead, there was nothing but the sound of water in the cistern and the gentle hooting of an owl, reminding Galatea of the wisdom of the gods.

  Fearfully, but with an equal measure of hope, she stepped into her workshop.

  Had it been madness?

  For there was her Pygmalion, standing on his pedestal as he always stood. Not a whisper of his stone had changed. He was as he ever was.

  Mist covered her eyes and blurred her vision. "My champion," she wept with disappointment. "I thought you had come to life to save me. I thought I saw you run for my life in a race that would have made me your wife." She bitterly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Ah! Aphrodite! My whole life I have spurned love! But if I could have this man that I have shaped and created as much as he has shaped and created me, I would gladly embrace your gifts."

  She climbed onto the pedestal beside Pygmalion and pressed herself close to the cold marble of his form, not caring anymore that she sought the comfort from a stone that no flesh could give.

  "Is it because I have failed you, oh Aphrodite? I promised you two statues for your temple, but I fell so in love with your gift, I only have one. Oh goddess! I would gladly give my life if I could live for eternity with this man."

  She ran her fingers across his curled locks, each one shaped by her chisel and smoothed with her rasp. She knew every line. She knew every inch. And tomorrow he would be gone.

  "Take good care of my love, Aphrodite."

  She pressed her lips to Pygmalion's cold marble lips.

  But desperate prayers made from desperate hearts catch the ears of the gods. For it is sometimes in deciding the love that one doesn't want and the acceptance of a heart's devastation that true love is finally allowed to enter in.

  And so, Aphrodite granted Galatea her wish.

  The cold, hard marble lips of Pygmalion began to warm. In surprise, Galatea's eyes opened and she moved to pull away. But Pygmalion leaned into her, that outstretched hand which called her to join him was now tangled in her hair, his arms now wrapped around her waist and unwilling to let go. The marble faded and melted with the heat of her body, and his strong pulse beat hard and fast against her. His heart fluttered through the airy gauze of her shift. Her breath joined with his breath. Her life with his life. They broke for a moment, foreheads pressed against one another, and her Pygmalion was more real than any man had ever been.

  "I claim you as my bride," he laughed as he brushed back her curly, black hair from her face. "My prize that I have rightfully won in a wrongful race."

  "And I claim you as my husband," she replied, her tears of joy unable to stop. "The hero who would never allow me to come to any harm. The man who is everything."

  And then their lips pressed against one another once more.

  All around Galatea, the world grew cold, but her heart shone with his love. Their lips
parted and she smiled, wanting nothing but to stay in Pygmalion's arms where she could gaze upon her beloved's face for all eternity.

  * * *

  "Strangest night," said the temple priest as Nikomedes led the group into the studio.

  "Who would have know that Adrastus was such a monster! I am glad Dymas and Ilus's families have run him out of town."

  "He had better run faster than he did in that race. There is no way to cheat when a mob is on your tail," laughed another man.

  "Did that stranger find you to claim Galatea?" asked the first priest.

  Nikomedes shook his head and shrugged. "They have both disappeared. From the way he ran, he must have been Spartan."

  The entire room gave an understanding nod.

  The second priest shared conspiringly, "I have heard their marriage ceremonies involve abducting the bride, and then they reappear a few months down the line."

  Nikomedes seemed unconcerned. "I have no doubt they will show up. It saves me a dowry, if you know what I mean."

  The temple priests roared with knowing laughter.

  Nikomedes drew everyone's attention to the large statue in the center of the room, covered in a heavy cloth. "And here is the sculpture I have been working—"

  "You mean 'Galatea has been working'," corrected the priest.

  "Yes," sighed the uncle. "Galatea, under my tutelage. I gave her permission to create a work for the temple, so she carved this. I have no idea if it is any good. I have barely seen it myself since my wedding night."

  Once more the temple priests laughed and elbowed one another.

  With a great flourish, Nikomedes pulled the cloth away, to the delighted gasps of the crowd. "It is… ah… Aphrodite! And… her lover."

  "Ah!" said the priest approvingly. "TWO statues! However did she find time!"

  The crowd nodded and agreed.

  "And what a charming couple! Such skill!" The priest leaned forward. "Why, that Aphrodite looks a bit like your niece! I suppose she needed a familiar face for her model!"