This is a story that was written a couple of years ago. Most of my writing was done in that period. This is my favourite short story that i've ever written. Enjoy.
Once upon a time, in a land where anything is possible and everything is beautiful, lived a little boy. His hair was made of the sun's golden rays, his eyes were drops of water from the deepest ocean, and his cheeks were the colour of a blooming rosebud. His angelic smile ensured that all eyes were focused solely on his beauty.
One fateful spring day, when the grass was at its greenest, the sun at its brightest, and the world at its most beautiful; a rosebud was born to mark the perfection of her world that day. The angelic boy was walking by aimlessly, taking in the beauty if his surroundings, when he first saw her. She made the rest of the world seem dull and made all the other colours fade, she alone stood out bright and clear. She was all the boy could see, she was all he truly cared for. It was as though everything that had ever happened to him was simply build-up for that moment and no other! He knew he could not stand there and stare at her forver, so he left the forest before he was completelyoverpowered by her. He knew that he loved her.
Every day after that, the boy went to see her, but he never spoke a word, never told her what she made him feel, never told her how much he cared, never told her that he loved her. Spring faded into summer, and her petals opened up, turning the rosebud into a rose. The boy loved her more with each passing day, yet he never spoke. summer melted into autumn and the leaves started to fall. The Rose was yellowing, but he still loved her. He always would. Finally winter arrived, bringing with it the snow and covering up the forest making it impossible for the boy to visit The Rose. He waited for the spring to some, and the snow to melt so that he could see his beloved.
Spring finally arrived, and the boy went to visit The Rose, but when he got there she was gone. He called out to her saying her name for the very first time, Tears prickled his eyes when he realized what had happened. He was left heart-broken with nothing but an aching emptiness etched deep into his soul. He could not take the almost-physical pain on his own, so he cut branches from the rosebush and made a bow and arrows from the wood.
Once the bow and arrows were ready, he flew into our world on feather soft wings, and shot his love-poisoned arrows into our hearts to make us fall inlove, to feel the pain that he felt. He would shoot us as many times as it took us to fall flat on our faces... Broken, bleeding and destroyed; until we called out for mercy and begged him to stop. Then he would leave us lying there helpless to go find someone else to hurt.
This boy was... Cupid.