A cold December morning, I was walking around the plaza when I saw Lionel, he was wearing a hat and had a map in his hand while scratching his neck. Something about him drew me in, I walked slowly towards him, the hat was shielding his face in shadows, I kept walking towards him with my dress ruffling in the wind.
"Hola señor. ¿Puedo ofrecerle mi ayuda?"
Lionel moved his eyes up meeting me, I smiled and he looked at me with a sad expression.
"I am sorry Dama but I do not comprehend Spanish very well,"
I smiled and proceeded to repeat what I had just said in English, as soon as that language was vocalized by me he smiled and pointed to his map asking for help. I nodded, coming closer to him but not touching him, I had to be sure. The touch of a Muse is something magical and dangerous and has to be used with precautions.
The aura radiating from him was unique, travelers were hard to find and even harder to lure. Why? Because they learned not to depend on anybody, they only needed themselves and often knew how to let go. They were hard to find because they were constantly on the move and hated to stay in one place too long, no matter how beautiful. My mind was telling me to help him and go away but his aura was sickeningly sweet, it was full of unique wonders nobody else would see in their life but I couldn't as soon as I helped him I turned around and started walking away, the feeling of his aura near mine intoxicating me. Maybe more people witnessed the same things he did, but the way he saw them was different, he had the eyes of an artist.
Artists, those are a muse's great weakness, artists are just begging to be taken, to suck out the art of them, to give them more pain to create art.
He grabbed my hand, he touched me, I could have kept walking and disappear, making him forget me, not connecting myself to him on a deeper level but the temptation was too much. I gripped his hand, turning around and meeting his green eyes.
"I was hoping you could aid me for the rest of my trip,"
I nodded, seeing a spark of excitement in his eyes. The touch of a Muse could affect a human, sometimes in a negative way. The thing with Lionel was that I did not choose him voluntarily, the entity inside me did, I wanted his soul and spirit, after all, it was really unique.
"How should I call you Dama?"
"Calliope,"
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"What did you see in Dalian, China?"
"Ask the right questions Dama,"
Lionel had amazing stories, of sleepless skies, of tall buildings that almost touched the sky, of cities that were bathed in color, and other cities that were fading remains. Each of the wonders he had seen and interpreted made him yearn for more, for an adventure, I had to be that adventure. Depending on my target I would act differently, with Lionel I was outgoing, happy, mayhem, unique and intrepid. We always fell in love with our picks, every single time, artists made us fall almost instantly but we act like a drug, the more you use it the more dangerous and harder to leave it gets.
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"Please do not go, Lionel,"
He wanted to live, his desire to see more, to feel more was overpowering than me, and if he did go then I would have failed as a muse.
"I have to Calliope," he answered.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to me, letting him notice me, he had to notice me. I could not disappear so easily, I could not become an empty shell.
"You stirred something inside me,"
Taking somebody took different words, words that meant something to your pick and they had to be sincere. In other words, he told me I inspired him which was what I wanted to hear. Something came wisping into me, one of his wonders, I felt stronger, more capable of bending his will. In exchange for his wonder, I gave him a kiss to replace it. We always replaced the things they gave with something of ours, but as soon as we abandoned them those things of ours would haunt them, making them feel empty for their loss, for the only thing they had left. He did not leave after that, he was back at my place with a missed plane and a growing obsession.
╡✥╞
"You are my greatest adventure,"
That was his way of saying I love you, the ultimate tie, I was relieved when he said it first. If a Muse says it first she disappears.
After those words were said, his desire for adventure shifted, I was his greatest desire. I traded his adventures for my presence, a presence that would soon disappear. He never wanted to leave again, and he became obsessed, one of my worst victims. His life had lost all meaning, making me his main focus, he had left his family behind years ago and his friends were back in his hometown a place he would never visit again.
Obsession is dangerous, especially if you obsess over a mythical being who will inevitably disappear.
I waited patiently for his last wonder to come to me and when it finally came I felt relieved. I had become his one and only wonder, his lovely adventure, the perfect destination.
This time I was the one traveling, away from him, I had his aura full of wonders now. He thought I would be something temporal, one more adventure, one more destination, one more wonder. The words he says or the things he sees will only speak of pain from now on.
He became a stalker, searching for me everywhere. He haunted the various lives of red-heads around the world until one disappointed him so much he took her life.
His Wonders Are Mine.