This is not a story for the soft hearted. This is not a story for the closed minded. This is a story for those with a little of the Devil inside. "The sadness of music sifted through me like grains of sand; every note fell into the cracks of my bones and wedged its pieces, becoming parts of me. The melancholy tasted bitter-sweet on my skin; every piano key carried the flavor of his chapped fingertips. The exquisitiness of the soul harmony softened my armored heart; it stripped it bare, delicate, exposed to Apollo who wished not only to be a warrior with a bow, but also to pierce hearts with a song." A new age story of Gods favourite angel, and of one naive girl who still believes in fairytales and forever afters.

"Love is..." I explored my brain to find the most suitable word in my dictionary that could fit in the definition I was trying to say; the definition that could make the jerk, sitting opposite me with a smirk on his face, believe in 'love'. "Bullshit?" He offered with a huge arrogant smirk on his face and no matter how much I agreed with him on this particular matter, I couldn't agree. So, instead of nodding my head in agreement, I scowled at him. His smirk grew bigger and he leaned away from me, gazing at me with his piercing grey eyes. "Finding it hard to make me believe in love when you yourself don't believe in that shit, huh?" With his piercing grey gaze fixed on my every move, I realized that 'being the devil's cupid' was going to be a lot tougher than I had initially thought. (By the author of 'And We Meet Again')