The Light Of Apollo's Love

Chapter 1

The morning dew from the laurel tree dripped down upon Myrrh's forehead and trickled down her face. As the sunlight shined through the leaves, her dark, opulent eyes slowly fluttered open, and she gazed up through her long, chocolate eyelashes at the golden speckles of sunlight emerging through the seaweed-colored leaves. Her hand reached up towards her forehead to wipe the fallen dew away, but it was as if it was already gone, without a trace of even the slightest hint of moisture left. The sweet smell of frankincense filled her senses, and she gingerly sat upon the delicate fabric of her hammock. She could see the small tendrils of smoke coming from the brass holder that sat upon the small crystal table a few meters from where she was. Myrrh had been used to the minor, peculiar occurrences every morning, and even throughout the day. Trinkets would appear around the fountain or the flower beds, then be almost missing for a few days and surface in other places, such as in the laurel trees or right at her feet in the morning when she awoke. She never truly understood these strange occurrences, but it slowly became almost a game to her of finding where things had been replaced after disappearing.
She would have the occasional disturbance at night of awaking with flowers placed upon her head or even have a small bracelet placed within the palm of her hand, it being warm, almost hot sometimes to the touch. She kept everything that was given, not out of fear but the comfort of knowing she was not truly alone by herself within the lengthy marble walls of the garden.

Myrrh gradually climbed out of the silk of her hammock, stretching her arms in the process from her awkward sleeping positions. Her feet came in contact with the cool limestone pavers that littered the garden and felt the almost mushy moss on her feet that was always growing in between each stone and the cracks that hard formed from weathering. She made her way over to the brass holder and noticed a small shard of flint next to it, before looking back over to the holder and removing the lid from it. The small grains of frankincense looked as if they had just recently been lit, which did disclose to why the metal lid had not heated very much. She reached over to a scrap of flint only to stop as she felt a strong heat radiating from it towards her fingertips as she hovered over it. There was a small square of singed paper laying beside it, with a few scuff marks as if someone had attempted to write on it. Myrrh tried to pick up the paper to examine it closer, but as soon as it came in contact with her hands it disintegrated into nothing more but particles. A sigh escaped her rosy lips as she pushed some of her dark, soft curls from her face. She had always forgotten how short she kept her hair until she would try and tie it up and chunks of loose, hickory-colored curls would fall away and frame her face, adding to the bangs that were already there. Her sun-kissed tan skin would always contrast her long white dress, and as she walked along barefoot across the ground, she would have to ever lift it so slightly as she went by the clusters of flowers, admiring their beauty each day. Myrrh made her way over to the fountain that stood in the middle of the garden, helping irrigate all the plants around her and even occasionally be drinking water when needed. She leaned on her hands as she perched herself on the edge of the stone and gazed down into the crystal-clear water, studying her reflection. She dipped her fingers down into the water and rain it through her hair to help tidy her curls up, coiling them around her fingers as her damp hair began to settle back into a much more lovely state.

 The sweet song of bluebirds broken her from her trance, and as she looked across the fountain's edge a minuscule bird with bright sapphire shaded feathers was chirping, sitting atop a small woven pouch with an alluring golden tie. Carefully, Myrrh made her way across the fountain over to it, and with light steps and graceful motions, sat down beside the bird. She held her hand out to it and it slowly perched itself upon her finger, and then upon her lap as it fluttered its wings and made itself at home within the silk of her skirt. She cautiously pulled the tie away and revealed there to be a few handfuls of strawberries and apricots within the waxy paper wrapping that coated the inside of the bag. The faint yet sweet smell enticed her senses as she slowly lifted the bird to the stone edge again and placed it down.