Pan’s Reverie
Inspired by the Cupid and Psyche Unit
A gust of wind swept the monogrammed napkin high into the crisp autumn air.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Cecilia as she trotted after the swirling swatch of gold while clutching the awkward box of decorations to her chest.
Nothing was going right today. Of course it didn’t help that she had fired her wedding planner at the last minute and was now scrambling to complete the backlog of tasks the incompetent woman had neglected.
She mentally scrolled through her considerable to-do list, ticking off the entries. The linens had been delivered, the caterer confirmed, and a small local band had agreed to perform during the reception. The box of decorations contained all the last minute details she had to get into place before the rehearsal tonight.
Only two more hours and I can relax, she thought as she chased the wayward napkin into a lovely London park.
The overpriced scrap of paper had come to rest at the base of an enormous oak. Exhausted, Cecilia allowed her weary body to slide down the trunk of the ancient tree as she retrieved the napkin. The park was so peaceful and beautiful. Mark would love it here. She decided to sit and rest, if only for a moment.
The sudden crunching of a twig startled Cecilia from her pastoral contemplations. Whipping around to find the source of the sound, Cecilia found herself facing two gleaming hoofs. Perplexed at this incongruity, she raised a perplexed brow to the vision before her.
A playful smile tugged at the lips of the apparition leaning against the oak. I must be hallucinating, Cecilia thought. I’m under a lot of pressure and not sleeping well, for surely the scene in front of her must be a figment of imagination.
Crouching down, the being’s dancing chestnut eyes found hers.
“Hello Cecilia,” he murmured, offering his hand.
Cecilia flung herself backwards and scrambled on hands and feet, utterly speechless in her shock.
Pan, for whom else could this creature be, looked down at her indulgently.
“I didn’t mean to scare you Cecilia. You just looked so beautiful in the evening light.”
Tears prick the edges of Phoebe’s eyes and Pan looks as though someone has stolen his favorite toy. Sullenly he lifts his magical pipes and begins to play a mournful tune, gazing into the distance.
The discordant notes tug at Cecilia’s heart and for a moment she begins to question her decision. Mark’s face abruptly comes to mind and she shakes away her doubts.
Seeming to come to a decision, Pan lowers his pipes and places a comforting hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “Of course you must go, Cecilia. But one day, you will return to me.” The last is said with such ruthless conviction that some of Cecilia’s early trepidations return and a chill runs down her spine.
The edges of Cecilia’s vision seem to vibrate and the forms of Pan and Phoebe begin fading from sight. Cecilia is plunged into darkness and her terror escalates as her vision goes black. “Wait!” she screams into the void. “You didn’t tell me how to get back!”
She listens but only silence answers and her fear threatens to choke her.
“Just wake up…” hisses a whispering voice.
“Wake up!”
Cecilia jerks violently and slams her eyes open only to see the face of a kind old lady.
“Thank goodness! Dear child, I thought I would never wake you. You sleep like the dead.”
“Oh thank God!” Cecilia exclaims as she tries to slow her bellowing breaths. “I had the most terrible dream.”
“Ah,” the old woman intones softly. “Dreams are a slippery thing.”
“It just felt so real! How can I know it wasn’t true? At any moment I could be right back there!”
“Back where child?” the crone asks suspiciously.
“Back to…” Cecilia hesitates, unsure how to explain. “It was only a dream,” she finishes lamely.
“Well you know what they say about daydreams, ‘dreams that come in daytime are always said to prove untrue, and secondly a nightmare often signifies the opposite,’” the old woman recites as she leans in, conspiratorially.
The acrid scent of gin assaults Cecilia’s nose and she realizes that the kind old woman is rather drunk. Looking around her Cecilia realizes she has likely taken the sot’s favorite resting place at the base of the oak.
The old woman shifts impatiently from foot to foot and Cecilia stands up feeling rather silly. Looking at her watch, she realizes she only has 15 minutes before the party.
“Thank you so much for waking me. It was nice meeting you but I really must go.” Gathering her box of supplies, Cecilia walks briskly in the direction of the subway, eager to leave the awkward situation.
“It’s no trouble at all, child,” the old woman slurs to her retreating back.
Just as Cecilia reaches the corner, she glances back to place where her vivid nightmare took place. The crone had just settled back against the tree and was grazing off into the increasing gloom. Her eyes shut tight, she purses her lips and begins to whistle a simple tune.
Cecilia’s blood runs cold as she listens in disbelief. The plaintive notes fill the air with an all too familiar melody. Cecilia turns and runs.
The end
Bibliography
A gust of wind swept the monogrammed napkin high into the crisp autumn air.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Cecilia as she trotted after the swirling swatch of gold while clutching the awkward box of decorations to her chest.
Nothing was going right today. Of course it didn’t help that she had fired her wedding planner at the last minute and was now scrambling to complete the backlog of tasks the incompetent woman had neglected.
She mentally scrolled through her considerable to-do list, ticking off the entries. The linens had been delivered, the caterer confirmed, and a small local band had agreed to perform during the reception. The box of decorations contained all the last minute details she had to get into place before the rehearsal tonight.
Only two more hours and I can relax, she thought as she chased the wayward napkin into a lovely London park.
The overpriced scrap of paper had come to rest at the base of an enormous oak. Exhausted, Cecilia allowed her weary body to slide down the trunk of the ancient tree as she retrieved the napkin. The park was so peaceful and beautiful. Mark would love it here. She decided to sit and rest, if only for a moment.
The sudden crunching of a twig startled Cecilia from her pastoral contemplations. Whipping around to find the source of the sound, Cecilia found herself facing two gleaming hoofs. Perplexed at this incongruity, she raised a perplexed brow to the vision before her.
(Pan and Syrinx, Jean Francois De Troy French 1679)
A playful smile tugged at the lips of the apparition leaning against the oak. I must be hallucinating, Cecilia thought. I’m under a lot of pressure and not sleeping well, for surely the scene in front of her must be a figment of imagination.
Crouching down, the being’s dancing chestnut eyes found hers.
“Hello Cecilia,” he murmured, offering his hand.
Cecilia flung herself backwards and scrambled on hands and feet, utterly speechless in her shock.
Pan, for whom else could this creature be, looked down at her indulgently.
“I didn’t mean to scare you Cecilia. You just looked so beautiful in the evening light.”
Struggling to control her sudden panic, Cecilia stared at the faun with wide eyes and a pounding heart.
“Do not fear, sweet child.” With a supple movement he produced a beautiful reed pipe and pressed it to his lips. A beautiful lilting melody instantly filled the air. The sweet, piercing notes brought goose bumps to her skin and the very air about them seemed to shimmer.
Enraptured by the exquisite music, Cecilia’s heart rate began to slow and the paralyzing tension seeped from her muscles. Pan had shifted much closer, without her even noticing, so that his shoulder brushed hers and she could see the way the golden light played across the curls of his ebony hair. As the song drew to a close, Cecilia realized she was no longer frightened.
With a jolt she quickly pulled away from the faun.
The rehearsal! Mark! Her panicked thoughts echoed in her head.
“Do not worry, Cecilia. I only wish to show you some of the beauties of my realm.”
“Th-thank you great Pan, but I really must be going,” she replied timidly.
The reckless smile once again transformed the god’s face. “Please, call me Puck.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Puck, but I’m terribly busy.”
“All work and no play, sweet Cecilia.” Pan shook his head and tutted with disapproval. “You should take a moment to enjoy yourself. Tell me, my dear, have you ever met a dryad before?”
“A what?” Cecilia stammered.
Before Pan could reply an acorn collided with Cecilia’s cheek and a burst of tinkling laughter wafted from the canopy above. Clutching her stinging cheek, Cecilia peered into the swaying branches and glimpsed a willowy form.
“Phoebe! Don’t be rude. Come down here and welcome our guest.”
The nymph glided down the oak, all graceful limbs and flowing hair. With a pout for Pan, Phoebe turned and approached the bewildered Cecilia.
“Do not fear, sweet child.” With a supple movement he produced a beautiful reed pipe and pressed it to his lips. A beautiful lilting melody instantly filled the air. The sweet, piercing notes brought goose bumps to her skin and the very air about them seemed to shimmer.
Enraptured by the exquisite music, Cecilia’s heart rate began to slow and the paralyzing tension seeped from her muscles. Pan had shifted much closer, without her even noticing, so that his shoulder brushed hers and she could see the way the golden light played across the curls of his ebony hair. As the song drew to a close, Cecilia realized she was no longer frightened.
With a jolt she quickly pulled away from the faun.
The rehearsal! Mark! Her panicked thoughts echoed in her head.
“Do not worry, Cecilia. I only wish to show you some of the beauties of my realm.”
“Th-thank you great Pan, but I really must be going,” she replied timidly.
The reckless smile once again transformed the god’s face. “Please, call me Puck.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Puck, but I’m terribly busy.”
“All work and no play, sweet Cecilia.” Pan shook his head and tutted with disapproval. “You should take a moment to enjoy yourself. Tell me, my dear, have you ever met a dryad before?”
“A what?” Cecilia stammered.
Before Pan could reply an acorn collided with Cecilia’s cheek and a burst of tinkling laughter wafted from the canopy above. Clutching her stinging cheek, Cecilia peered into the swaying branches and glimpsed a willowy form.
“Phoebe! Don’t be rude. Come down here and welcome our guest.”
The nymph glided down the oak, all graceful limbs and flowing hair. With a pout for Pan, Phoebe turned and approached the bewildered Cecilia.
“Hello child.”
Her singsong voice reminded Cecilia of shallow water flowing over smooth rocks. Rising and falling with soft sibilance. Indeed, her ethereal beauty did make Cecilia feel childlike. And terribly plain.
“You’re so beautiful,” Cecilia said reverently. Phoebe’s haughty demeanor dissolved into pleasure and she smiled warmly.
“Not nearly as lovely as you, sister. I’ve never seen tresses so lustrous, as golden as honey.”
“Sister?” asked Cecilia.
Phoebe turned a questioning gaze to Pan who was observing the exchange thoughtfully. “She has not agreed to stay. Yet,” he answered her wordless query.
“Oh you must stay Cecilia! It will be such fun. There is a marvelous little pool tucked away in that copse where Liriope dwells. She tells the most wonderful stories. And on that ridge grows a flower of incomparable loveliness. There are magnificent vistas and beings of astonishing beauty and grace. The sun is always shining and the fruits ripe on the vine. And of course there is always music,” she cooed persuasively. “Please say you will stay.”
“Stay?” Everything sounded so enticing and the pastoral beauty around her so tempting. But then she thought of Mark. Mark, she thought frantically. The dinner! Cecilia glanced fretfully at the rapidly descending sun, trying to access the hour.
Fighting rising panic, Cecilia turned to Pan and Phoebe with regret. “I am truly flattered by your gracious offer but I simply can’t stay. I am to be married tomorrow and must get back home immediately.”
Her singsong voice reminded Cecilia of shallow water flowing over smooth rocks. Rising and falling with soft sibilance. Indeed, her ethereal beauty did make Cecilia feel childlike. And terribly plain.
“You’re so beautiful,” Cecilia said reverently. Phoebe’s haughty demeanor dissolved into pleasure and she smiled warmly.
“Not nearly as lovely as you, sister. I’ve never seen tresses so lustrous, as golden as honey.”
“Sister?” asked Cecilia.
Phoebe turned a questioning gaze to Pan who was observing the exchange thoughtfully. “She has not agreed to stay. Yet,” he answered her wordless query.
“Oh you must stay Cecilia! It will be such fun. There is a marvelous little pool tucked away in that copse where Liriope dwells. She tells the most wonderful stories. And on that ridge grows a flower of incomparable loveliness. There are magnificent vistas and beings of astonishing beauty and grace. The sun is always shining and the fruits ripe on the vine. And of course there is always music,” she cooed persuasively. “Please say you will stay.”
“Stay?” Everything sounded so enticing and the pastoral beauty around her so tempting. But then she thought of Mark. Mark, she thought frantically. The dinner! Cecilia glanced fretfully at the rapidly descending sun, trying to access the hour.
Fighting rising panic, Cecilia turned to Pan and Phoebe with regret. “I am truly flattered by your gracious offer but I simply can’t stay. I am to be married tomorrow and must get back home immediately.”
Tears prick the edges of Phoebe’s eyes and Pan looks as though someone has stolen his favorite toy. Sullenly he lifts his magical pipes and begins to play a mournful tune, gazing into the distance.
The discordant notes tug at Cecilia’s heart and for a moment she begins to question her decision. Mark’s face abruptly comes to mind and she shakes away her doubts.
Seeming to come to a decision, Pan lowers his pipes and places a comforting hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “Of course you must go, Cecilia. But one day, you will return to me.” The last is said with such ruthless conviction that some of Cecilia’s early trepidations return and a chill runs down her spine.
The edges of Cecilia’s vision seem to vibrate and the forms of Pan and Phoebe begin fading from sight. Cecilia is plunged into darkness and her terror escalates as her vision goes black. “Wait!” she screams into the void. “You didn’t tell me how to get back!”
She listens but only silence answers and her fear threatens to choke her.
“Just wake up…” hisses a whispering voice.
“Wake up!”
Cecilia jerks violently and slams her eyes open only to see the face of a kind old lady.
“Thank goodness! Dear child, I thought I would never wake you. You sleep like the dead.”
“Oh thank God!” Cecilia exclaims as she tries to slow her bellowing breaths. “I had the most terrible dream.”
“Ah,” the old woman intones softly. “Dreams are a slippery thing.”
“It just felt so real! How can I know it wasn’t true? At any moment I could be right back there!”
“Back where child?” the crone asks suspiciously.
“Back to…” Cecilia hesitates, unsure how to explain. “It was only a dream,” she finishes lamely.
“Well you know what they say about daydreams, ‘dreams that come in daytime are always said to prove untrue, and secondly a nightmare often signifies the opposite,’” the old woman recites as she leans in, conspiratorially.
The acrid scent of gin assaults Cecilia’s nose and she realizes that the kind old woman is rather drunk. Looking around her Cecilia realizes she has likely taken the sot’s favorite resting place at the base of the oak.
The old woman shifts impatiently from foot to foot and Cecilia stands up feeling rather silly. Looking at her watch, she realizes she only has 15 minutes before the party.
“Thank you so much for waking me. It was nice meeting you but I really must go.” Gathering her box of supplies, Cecilia walks briskly in the direction of the subway, eager to leave the awkward situation.
“It’s no trouble at all, child,” the old woman slurs to her retreating back.
Just as Cecilia reaches the corner, she glances back to place where her vivid nightmare took place. The crone had just settled back against the tree and was grazing off into the increasing gloom. Her eyes shut tight, she purses her lips and begins to whistle a simple tune.
Cecilia’s blood runs cold as she listens in disbelief. The plaintive notes fill the air with an all too familiar melody. Cecilia turns and runs.
The end
Story source:Apuleius's Golden Ass, as translated into English by Tony Kline (2013).
The stories "Her Dream" and "Psyche's Despair" were the main inspirations
Author's Note:
I used parts of two stories from Apuleius's Golden Ass as inspiration for this story. In the first story, "Her Dream," a young noble woman is kidnapped by a troop of mauraders with the intention of ransoming her. While at camp, the girl has a horrible dream and wakes up crying. In the dream, her kidnapping prevents her wedding and results in the death of her lover. A crone, slightly drunk and traveling with the bandits, attempts to calm her by telling her a saying about dreams and a story of Psyche and Cupid. In Psyche's despair, the distraught girl meets the god Pan. That is the extent of my use of the story.
I'm exploring the first person narrative style for now because it is a style I often read and enjoy. This also would have worked very well as a third person omniscient or if told from multiple perspectives. I really like the dream moral presented by the old woman in Apuleius's Golden Ass and thought it would make a great idea for a story. Later in the unit when Psyche met Pan, I know I wanted to write something about the pastoral god. The main character, Cecilia, is a combination of the kidnapped girl and Psyche. I attempted to weave many elements of the unit into the story including the tasks (wedding planning), the kidnapping (nightmare), temptation, and the deep sleep. I hope that you found it entertaining and sorry it went a bit long!
I used parts of two stories from Apuleius's Golden Ass as inspiration for this story. In the first story, "Her Dream," a young noble woman is kidnapped by a troop of mauraders with the intention of ransoming her. While at camp, the girl has a horrible dream and wakes up crying. In the dream, her kidnapping prevents her wedding and results in the death of her lover. A crone, slightly drunk and traveling with the bandits, attempts to calm her by telling her a saying about dreams and a story of Psyche and Cupid. In Psyche's despair, the distraught girl meets the god Pan. That is the extent of my use of the story.
I'm exploring the first person narrative style for now because it is a style I often read and enjoy. This also would have worked very well as a third person omniscient or if told from multiple perspectives. I really like the dream moral presented by the old woman in Apuleius's Golden Ass and thought it would make a great idea for a story. Later in the unit when Psyche met Pan, I know I wanted to write something about the pastoral god. The main character, Cecilia, is a combination of the kidnapped girl and Psyche. I attempted to weave many elements of the unit into the story including the tasks (wedding planning), the kidnapping (nightmare), temptation, and the deep sleep. I hope that you found it entertaining and sorry it went a bit long!
Great job with the story! I really enjoyed reading it! I also read Cupid and Psyche, so it was cool to see what you got from it.
ReplyDeleteYour first person point of view is really strong! You had the right amount of everything in your story.
There isn't a whole lot I have to suggest, I mean it's really good!
I guess now that you have s good basis for the first person point of view, you can take it to the next level. To do that add in more emotions. Since it's first person, you can really play up on how she feels! Add physical and emotional feelings.
Looking forward to seeing your future stories!
I decided to pick your story as part of the feedback project because I really like it! On the first reading, it flows together really well and it sweeps you along like the napkin on the breeze. You get just the right sense of foreboding when the dryad lets the secret slip and you can feel Cecilia's struggle to remember the outside world and escape. The bit at the end is the real kicker and sends the story off on a great note!
ReplyDeleteNow for the feedback bits:
Title/first sentence/last sentence: I think the last sentence (and the preceding one) are a great ending. The first sentence is pretty good as well since it combines different sensory elements (visual - napkin, touch - crisp wind) which immediately brings an image to mind.
The title, while appropriate, might be better served as just being 'The Reverie' so as to not spoil the surprise?
Word Choice(?): On the second read through I noticed there is a bit of switching between past and present tenses. These are really hard to catch on your own, even when you are trying to edit. It doesn't really detract, but for extra polish it'd probably need to be one or the other.
Hi Kalin nice to meet you. I have decided to comment on your story for the Commenting on Web Presentation exercise.
ReplyDeleteI picked your story because it looked like it was very well done and after taking a better look at it I can see that it was. After reading your story I could tell that you really put some time into it. It flows so well and your formatting and presentation plays a big part in that. First off I like that you but in different pictures as this helps to brake up the text a little bit and makes it a bit easier to read. The thing that I like most about your story though, is the fact that you included links. these were very helpful as i was not sure who most of these people were. I think I might start doing this in my stories as well.
I look forward to reading more of your work.