Solar Flares

The Tale of Apollo and Adora

The sun rises upon a pastel sky, its fingers stained with the baby pink chalk it had used to colour the canvas. White clouds, left bare by the divine artist, swim across the sea of pastel, whisking the colours away with them as they go.

In the rooms below the sky, a heart thumped relentlessly in the chest of one too young for it's unwarranted fear. Caramel hair, the victim of her shaking hands and too-hard-tugs, was a ragged curtain affront her sun-kissed skin. The environment was new to her. The people though seemingly very kind, were strangers. But fear had made itself welcome in the pit of her stomach, seeping into her veins and corrupting her lungs and heart. Thick white sails of clouds hid the sun from the prying eyes of those on Earth.

Apollo felt pity for the young girl. His gentle music a lullaby to the girl's fearful self; soothing the spiking anxiety that prickled her heart and twisted her stomach. The air was rich with the beauty of a careful violinist's gift and the quiet harmony of lower string instruments, lifting up the harmony like the wings of a merciful angel. That rapid heart rate settled. Calmed bloodstone eyes were closing slowly, then springing wide open as though the girl had forgotten where she was. Apollo healed her worries and cured her heart of fear. His job was done.

Yet as the day passed, she did not remove her gaze from the crystalline windows, but instead searched for her golden love in the pastel sky. Tis a shame that the sun should set so soon, and that the horizon should hide away Apollo's grace as if thou were naught but a flickering candle.
 
Months passed and the days grew shorter, and the nights grew darker. The summer sun slumbered while an icy era swept over the Earth. As the blue sky corrupted her windows, the girl wondered:

How can the sky stand to brighten each passing morning while its beloved sun slumbers in the winter coldness?

How can the Earth continue to flourish despite the icy tendrils cocooning its vast plains of grass and chopping down the green décor of the trees?

How can the joy and comfort in her heart so easily be replaced by this desperate longing and sadness?

Her love was gone for days at a time, never peaking above the horizon for longer than a few hours. It seemed to the girl that she was cowering from the cold.

So she kept the hearth warm, the house toasty, and shared her hot food with him in his absence. The world was too cold for her love, but her home would not be.

Months passed once more and the winter ice thawed, making way for new life bursting forth from the lively Earth. The sky, pale from frost, shed its snow coat and draped itself in a shawl of baby blue. But the sun ceased to shine.

That was when she met her. She was like the sun itself. Golden locks curled tightly in on themselves and her amber eyes melted into one's of bloodstone with each glance. Her hands were warm to the touch and her smile shine with the light of a thousand stars. Phoebe was her name.

Phoebe drew her in instantly. With each call of "Adora", their love grew and grew. Through warm, sunless summers, and dark, iced winters, they celebrated their love.

They were married, one winter. Angelic angels of minuscule size danced down from the heavens and carpeted the hardened Earth. The altar shone. And it shone even more with their beauty, then melted with their smiles.

That same day, years later, Phoebe fell ill. A warm hearth, toasty house, and hot food was not enough to soothe her sickness, and eventually a weakened Phoebe succumbed to her fate.

Adora was inconsolable. Yet in her darkness, and all of her agony, the Sun came out of hiding and retook his place in the sky, watching over his beloved, until the day she would join him. Then they would be together, forever.