one morning, i was followed home by a statue, a guardian of some ancient temple or city. i heard the stone footsteps behind me, and when i reached my front door, a hybrid mythical creature showed itself and waited for the expected invitation. i invited him in.
we sat across my glass table, drank coffee and talked for hours, our voices getting lower until we were barely above a whisper. and as we spoke, he weaved enchantment around me, turning air into amniotic fluid. i had spiced the coffee with cloves, cardamom and cinnamon, my own welcoming spell to control my home. his magic overwhelmed mine.
i felt safer than i had in a very long time. as the day passed, flecks of stone fell off his body and the greyness of his skin changed until he was fully revealed. tenne-coloured with the crinkle-cornered blue eyes of a hunter and the posture of a warrior.
guardian of the divine, protector of treasure, watching over a city that refuses to return a piece of my heart. the temptation to believe that he was real was overwhelming and dangerous. the coincidences were too many, and coincidences often aren’t.
but creatures from legends don’t exist; the trophies hunters brought home with the stories are all fake. my mythical hero no more exists on this plane than the Sirens, although he’s equally as seductive and deadly. it is dangerous to give in to fantasy but sometimes, my imagination is all i have.