I was destined for greatness. From a young age that was what my mother always told me. That was the lullaby she sang before sending me to sleep, that was what she crooned when I hurt myself.
‘Don’t worry boy, it may hurt now – but you will rise beyond it.’ Don’t worry boy.
And I didn’t worry.
I grew with an inner confidence of a thin child growing next to a fat one. I felt picked out, special, destined for greatness. There was never a hitch in this view. I became a handsome, strong and intelligent young man, the object of women’s gossip of all ages. Beloved, favoured, trusted by all within my providence. I could have any woman I wanted and could handpick my friends.
What could go wrong?
Within this annoyingly cliché question… everything. What is it that often brings about a man's downfall from glory? A woman. A beautiful girl with dark amber eyes like molten honey, a smile that made flowers grow and long, lustrous dark chocolate coloured hair. The town followed her the way one follows the smell of fresh cookies. She was enchanting and beautiful… and spent her life reading about others. A human book case sanded and oiled to perfection.
And I wanted her.
She would crown the greatness my future held. It was a perfect plan for a perfect bride. She and she alone.
Until it didn’t work.
I proposed to her in her own house, prophesising a life that any woman would dream of with excitement. Of happiness, glorious sex and beautiful children we would bring into the world. A beloved and handsome husband resting by the fire – a dream she had won hands down.
She rejected me; she threw me to the pigs. She humiliated and shamed my confidence.
A beautiful woman wanting a chase? I’m an excellent hunter, it shouldn’t have been a problem.
I was the good guy. I was the hero of our village, the idol of our town, champion of our providence. THE GOOD GUY! Yet, somehow my fairy tale was the only one in history where the villain gets the girl. The good guy became bad, and the bad guy won the romantic end scene with the girl. My girl.
She loved him. She loved his shaggy mane, and roar. I could work with that. But she didn’t want me. She wanted claws more likely to skin and gut her, then possess anything resembling human love. Beastiality was apparently on the rise.
I couldn’t believe it. She left the shining provincial prince for a ferocious beast.
I admit I got mad.
How could the most beautiful girl in the land learn to love a beast?! It was gross. All forms of gross. I was protecting her and all she cared for. I was the good guy.
But then…
Why was I the one who fell off the roof?
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