Apollo’s Tree

I haven’t always been a tree you know. One minute I’m happily splashing in the river with the other nymphs, the next Apollo turns up, gives me a lecherous wink and I’m fleeing through the forest for my honour. And then Bam! My feet take root in the ground, my arms stretch upwards, and I’m a tree.

“Daphne! How could you do this to me?” Apollo seems cross. Not half as cross as I am. Does he think I did this on purpose? Does he honestly think I want to be a tree? If I could speak I’d be having stern words with my father. I do remember asking him to save me from Apollo, but this isn’t quite the rescue I had in mind. I shake my leaves in disgust.

Pure rage keeps me going for the first few hours. Or is that years?  I’m not sure. Time is a bit mixed up these days. Later thoughts turn to my family. My mother will worry when I don’t come home. I wonder if my father will confess?

It hasn’t even worked. Apollo leans against my trunk, playing his wretched lyre and singing love songs. If only I had eyes I would weep.

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2 Responses to Apollo’s Tree

  1. Mayumi-H says:

    I love when mythology comes into our fiction. You do a great job with Daphne’s frustrations, with Apollo, Peneus, and her fate. The second paragraph in particular is really wonderful – I love her straightforward snippiness with Apollo! 😀

    • sjbwriting says:

      Thanks Mayumi. I really love Roman and Greek mythology – especially the storie about what happens to the mortals when the gods start playing around with their lives. I’ve always felt sorry for Daphne and wondered what it must have been like for her.

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