The Woman of the Ball

May 13, 2009
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Her appearance demanded attention from everyone in the room. No one denied her what she desired for she was like Hera, queen of the gods. She answered to no one not even the lucky man, her husband, Zeus that managed to ensnare her within his trap. If there ever was a man that could keep her at bay for long enough to place a kiss on her hand such as Romeo and Juliet’s holy palmer‘s kiss, he had yet to show his face.

Even Aphrodite would be jealous of her beauty for she radiated light from Apollo’s sun, wherever her footsteps would take her. She was the Achilles’ heel for every man‘s desire, for they would all gladly become Marc Anthony and lay Rome at her feet. They would throw everything away to be in Cleopatra’s arms, even if they had to suffer like Sisyphus every day by rolling the rock up the mountain and having it tumble down day after day. She was Venus and all the men at her heels were Poseidon’s children, the Cyclopes.

It would take a Perseus, Theseus, or even an Odysseus to capture her heart for even they might have a Herculean task like slaying Medusa. Even though her beauty could compare to no one, not even the pearl of women, Paris’s Helen, she had the makings of a Nefertiti, Hatshepsut, or even a Sammuramat. Her mother would often tell her that the gods had showered her with gifts, especially the grey-eyed goddess, Athena. She was intelligent, cunning, and very brave just like Joan of Arc. She would be the one to cut the Gordian knot of the murder mystery, similar to Jack the Ripper’s story by changing her personality to become Machiavellian and protean.





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