Teen Time

Cupid Falls in Love

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Cupid Falls in Love

         I slipped my bow off my shoulder, strung the linen string into the notch, and pulled an arrow from my quiver. The girl, lithe and beautiful as a young gazelle, was gazing up into her man's eyes. She appeared not to need my help. I knew differently. The man's eyes were staring into her pretty face, but he was thinking about his football game the next day.

         I raised my bow and nocked a wooden arrow. My invisible darts held drops of love nectar; otherwise they resembled a normal set.

         I was skilled at archery. I had practiced and apprenticed for several hundred years. My only difficulty lies deciding which couples to shoot.

         First of all, because I am Cupid, I possess certain magical qualities like invisibility and the ability to see inside of souls. But, readiness to fall in love? That’s an entirely different matter.

         I shook my head to remind myself to get to work. The young man's thoughts were traveling much too quickly into diagrams and football maneuvers.

         Swinging my bow into position, I position myself for a view of the young man's bottom. Aiming carefully, I let the arrow fly. My love arrow soared right to its mark.

         The fellow yelped, but the girl kissed him. The boy grimaced a moment and then was swept away by love's enchantment.

         I promptly secured my arrow for the young miss and let the arrow fly. She whimpered once, but offered little resistance as the kiss sent her to love’s paradise.

         Although I'd been successful, my aim had actually missed its mark by two inches. Something was amiss with my bow. I spent a moment scanning the fine grain of the lemonwood, unstrung the linen string and discovered the problem. A slight fraying at the point in the loop had thrown off my aim. I took new string from my quiver, strung the bow tips, threaded my arrow, and tested the tautness.

         There were no young couples to practice on. I sighted a nearby tree. I held the bow in the V position, notched the arrow and drew. A cat screamed; a dog barked, and then they came galloping at me. The cat ran up my leg, attempting to get away from the dog. My arrow missed its mark, flying with wild abandon to the other side of the tree. Groaning from the fall I'd taken and the cat scratches that ran across my skin, I rose from the ground, dusted myself off, and went to retrieve my arrow.

         The arrow's point had found its mark. She was sitting on a bench, all three hundred pounds of her, staring about with a mystified look on her face. For a second time, I groaned, louder this time. The girl's pimply face turned in my direction. It was almost as if she’d heard me. Her eyes, gray as a clouded sky, peered through heavy lenses.

         "Who's there?" she cried out, her several chins rippling with agitation.

         I sighed quietly, reached back to my quiver and pulled out another arrow. I placed it over my knee, karate chopped its wooden shaft, and broke it so that it hung by a slender thread of hickory. Then I notched it and prepared to shoot. The broken arrow would reverse the love spell. It was all I had to offer the poor, unhappy soul.

         I stepped closer, trying to find a place to aim. I positioned, and released.
That darn dog was at it again. This time, he collided with my leg. The arrow dropped and hit my foot.

         If I had been mortal, the miss would have done no harm. But we demi-gods are only injured by a wound in the foot or ankle. The love potion spread its power, and I stared into the girl's eyes -- gray eyes the color of softness, large and full of tears . . .

         I rushed to her and on bended knee I pledged my love. She saw me then. The spell gathered us both into its hold. We rose and clasped in a sweet embrace, and I kissed her.

         As the weeks passed, the spell faded away, as Valentine potions always do, but time only deepened the love between Carrie and me. We spent our days laughing and talking. I discovered how smart she was, and how wonderful I felt in her presence.

         Carrie and I were married on Valentine’s Day of the following year, and I have never once regretted it. And as I go about my job, shooting others with my bow and arrow, I pray that the power of love will bring them all the happiness it has brought me.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you,
Cupid, 2004

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