A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“You must serve Lord Theobhan and his family with your life. Nothing can be compared to his mercy. We will meet, soon.”

I was only 4-year-old, when she decided to leave me to live and serve Lord Theobhan. If I remembered it, I felt hurt, hurt, and only pain left. I opened my eyes. The curtains were blown by the morning wind. The morning dew was left on my poppy by the window. It was such a pretty flower blooming in the late spring.

Knock, knock!

“I’m sorry to bother you, but Lord Lysander wants to meet you.”

***

It was such a long journey and memory. In my whole life, I always stayed by his side. I and Lysander grew together, played together, we were more than partner in crimes. I was the body and he was the soul.

“You get a nightmare again? You look terrilble, Eoen.” he spoke while aiming his bow and arrow to a small target in the middle of the field.

“No, my Lord. I’m little bit tired.” I replied.

“You can call me by the name, Eoen.” he sighed, “If that’s so, I will order Ravenna to make you some honeysuckle tea. It’s energy booster, good for your health.” he smiled as he spoke then he stretched his bow and released the arrow.

“Uhm...My Lord ahem... Lysander. Ravenna told me that you want to see me. Is there any problem, sire? Ahem...” my tongue did not get used to call him by the name. I didn’t know, but I thought he got brighter than the other days. As he spoke, he always smiled, showing his beautiful dimple, his eyes indicated a great joy.

“I have to celebrate my happiness with you, Eoen. I will marry Hermia the day after tomorrow.” he smiled widely. I didn’t know how to behave. I was happy for him, for sure, but something cracked.
  

Rina Ayu Lestari
I’m nobody who wants to be somebody. My motto that keeps me alive is - The only man who never makes mistakes is the man who never does anything – Theodore Roosevelt. Why? This quote is like an excuse to me to keep doing mistakes all over again. LOL! I have a strong head, because I’m an Arian and my skin keeps boiling because of anger. I’m a type of persons who don’t get along well with human. Well, maybe because of my hometown is far away there, surrounded by mountains, beaches, forests, and wild animals. I prefer to choose 2D and give my pure and platonic love to my idols. LOL (again)!  As the title, this story is a side story of Shakespeare’s play with the same title, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Why did I choose the story? It is simply because it is a comedy. I don’t really like tragedy that Shakespeare mostly chose for his plays or his poems. I did not change the basic story of this play, but Eoen is an additional character that became the main character here. To get better understanding of this story, I suggest you, at least, to read the summary of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Shakespeare, but by reading the whole play is more worth it. I think if you read this side story as an independent story, you can still enjoy it, and it feels more like reading fan fiction. ^^ Enjoy!

Xanthias and the Empusa

...

I grab a nearby candelabra and spring towards Elektra. Brandishing it like a sword, I hit her on the head with a loud THWACK! The candelabra bends in a weird angle.

Elektra looks up, trembling with rage. Her eyes are gleaming red like with a thin slit of black pupil.

Great. Now I have a broken candelabra and a really pissed off empusa.

I scurry out of the way just in time when she pounces, smashing the wooden table where our drinks was served by a smoking hot woman fifteen millennia ago. The set of pottery tumbles on the floor with a massive crashing sound, splashing ale and ambrosia everywhere.

“How dare you... You little filthy human!” she thrusts out her fire hand and a ball of fire appears out of nowhere, hovering above her palm.

Wha— 

I duck in horror as she hurls the fireball towards me. By three seconds, she has another fireball ready. Shit shit shit shit shit. Daughter of Hecate, goddess of magic. Of course.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Dionysus’s spiky club has rolled from under his back. It looks pretty shabby, but it’s better than a broken candelabra.

When Elektra hurls her second fireball, I swivel and dash towards the club.

Got it!

I turn around to face Elektra, my club ready. She stares at me, and I could swear the air between us turns electric.

With a lift of a talon, she sends a freaking shelf flying towards me. An ultra thick leatherbound book—Homecooking á la Athena—slams me on my face, throwing me off balance. I come up dazed, a tangy taste of blood in my mouth. As my vision clears, I see Elektra leaping towards me, talons thrusted.

I deflect her blow with my club. I just manage to keep my heart from being skewered into satay, but the empusa is strong and quick. As I reel backwards, she strikes again and again. Each time, I’m able to parry, but I can tell I am outmatched. I’m a slave, not a soldier.

Come on, I grit my teeth, hoping that my mere thought will disrupt Dionysus’s nap-fest. Wake up!!!

With an enormous effort, I swing my club at Elektra’s head—a good solid strike that should give her a nice facial reshaping. Unfortunately, I slip on something wet. My swing goes wide, hitting the empusa’s shoulder, leaving a nasty dent as if she’s made of wax. Immediately, the dent moves back into its initial shape.

This is useless! I curse in frustration. I cannot even wound her! If anything, I just make her even angrier. She growls and strikes back. This time, I’m not quick enough to parry in time. Her talons cut into my wrist.

 

Cornelia Petrabella

A 21-year-old English Literature student with a widespread range of unique hobbies such as sleeping passionately and pushing people off the bed (with love). She started writing when she was 11, mainly because back then everyone had a blog. She reads a lot to distract herself from eating too much. She dislikes noisy children, deadlines, and cocroaches. In that order. 

Skinny Love

The moon, if you tilted your head a little to the right, looked like a fabricated smile. I’d never seen a smile so insincere and crooked. Gleaming not as bright as they were in summer sky, those autumn stars rather seemed like a pair of tired eyes. The night was still young, but there was no tenderness left of it.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

I lifted my back off of the ground to see if the familiar voice had a familiar face.

Turned out it was Joshua, my soon to be brother-in-law, leaning back on a swing pole not far away from where I sat.

“Hi,” I forged a smile.

“What are you doing here, Nora? Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“They have?” I hesitated.

“No, not really. Our fathers are too busy arguing about Obamacare— can you imagine if one of them were Republican?”

“I guess that’d be interesting. I wish one of them really were, and then maybe this wedding would never have to happen to me. No offense, though.”

“None taken.”

“Hey, what about James?”

“What about him?”

“Hasn’t he noticed that his fiancé is missing?”

“I don’t think so. He’s stuck with our mothers, they were talking about catering menus when I left.”

“I can only imagine the misery.”

“Don’t you think we should go back and save him from our crazy mothers?”

I ran through the idea in my head. But it’s not a very pretty picture.

“I think I’ll stay here for awhile…”

“Yeah, I’m sure James will live.”

Arbitrarily, Joshua stepped closer and sat next to me. Then he took out a pack of Marlboro from his back pocket. “Want some?” he offered. I didn’t really smoke, but I took one anyway. What the hell, I thought.

. . .

I never thought our relationship would last this long. It’d been a year and a couple of months. I remembered the first time we exchanged numbers. It was on a taxi ride, halfway from Death & Co. to my apartment. That day I had just passed the bar, so I was out celebrating with some friends. On her way to the ladies’ room, Olivia, my friend who had just started working at Shaerman & Sterling, ran into her new co-workers. They soon joined our table. Most of them looked like conceited stuck-ups, most of them but one. That one guy with delicate green eyes and square jaw was James. He struck me as a family person. The kind of guy who actually had long-term plans. The kind of guy I used to avoid being involved with. But then he was smart and established, and before we even knew it, we were already at his apartment, having dinner on our third date. The third led to the fifth, and now we’re planning a wedding.