A Lover Scorned

A retelling of a historical event through slight fantasy

This isn't your romance story , but a fantastical retelling of a real life event of times past. Enjoy.

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It was the year when my lover abandoned me. For my lover had quite the lover’s tiff with one of the many mistresses under my lover's grip. This one was quite powerful too. I only found this out a little too late and by then, my lover was already gone, breaking my heart as well as countless others in my faith.

As to what caused the quarrel is something I will never really fully know but fire nearly glowed on the skies when the scorned mistress' passions grew and with fervor that her rage consumed her entirely. Not a single one of us could quench her, as bodies burned. Collateral victims of her fury.

A rage so strong, which knew no bounds, as it occupied the skies and made it bleed red until it suffocated, turning purple hues in between. The mix of purple-red was quite a sight to behold for years to come that many artists got swept in fever of inspirations to capture it with brushstrokes and revel in it with manic delight.

The air was not left untouched from the scorn of this lover's wrath. The smell of sulfur dominated the skies and choked its fresh breath from within.

Light turned away and darkness stayed. Shadowy entities lay behind the clouds lured by the darkened skies that hid creatures of lore.

But in her anger, there were unmistakable tears as she cried for many years. The seas rose up and the waves hurled many bodies afloat. Still my lover left her alone in hopes that she might calm down sometime on her own.

The world was turned upside down because of a lover scorned, her raging passion turned the world frigid, cold, and left a frosty atmosphere lingering everywhere. Lakes, even some rivers froze, as their souls were revoked transformed to glass as streams became crystalline in her wake.

With my lover no longer there, the warmth of passion, of life — left me feeling bare. How I now long that sweet embrace in the early days of June. The height of heated passions come August. I have never felt so much despair as that year my lover left.

The lands felt as depressed as I, and famine came. The gloomy stench of that lover scorned felt by everyone and everything. Gloom and fear relished in our despair.

But with every disaster comes little pieces of life as many artists stroke brilliance within the dark.

It was the year 1816 — the year without summer when Mount Tambora was angered and Sol left. The year that gave birth to famed monsters of lore, the year vampires came to be and Frankenstein came to Mary Shelly’s mind.

Photo by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash

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Authors note:

It comes as no surprise that I dramatised what really happened. If you've read my previous works, this is just how my mind sometimes work. I hope I had you guessing for a while though. I remember history sometimes through stories such as these.