Throughout the ages, romance has been an integral part of our culture.
Tragedy, comedy, epic battles, love gained and lost. It all seems to play some part in every legend we've ever heard. Beowulf, Odysseus, and Hercules were all romanticized heroes fabricated to make our hearts race and our minds whirl. They were created from the imagination of men so that we might have someone to whom to look in dark times. They were made so that we might learn lessons and grow. Hamlet and his lost Ophelia, Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde: all doomed to tragedy. Despite that tragedy, we admire their stories none the less. Over and over again, we tell their tales as others listen with bated breath.
Romance is more than just love, my friend. It is more than tales of the heart and fantasies of that elusive thing called love. Romance is what inspires ideals. Romance is weaved into every fantastic tale you have ever read. Romance is what allows us to go into an entirely new world. Romance brings us color and inspires imagination. Every bit of prose depicting a hero for the masses is romantic. Romance is the exaggeration of inventions of the mind. Romance is emotion and insight. It is the muse that brings Hercules and Jason to life. It is the force that drives us to seek out a fantastic world beyond ours. It weaves itself into languages and sweeps women off their feet. Romance, it seems, is something that should not be lost.
For aren’t we all romantic at heart? Don’t we all push reality to the side if only to catch a fleeting glimpse into the unknown? Don’t we all allow our hearts to skip a beat here and there when we read about the hero’s first kiss with his dearest one? Don’t we all, at one point, dream up a different world? Don’t we all, at some point, in this fickle thing called life, read the tales written so long ago as our hearts race and our minds whirl? As children, do we not beg our parents for tales of faeries, princes, and dragons? There is no denying that we have all sought a world unseen by mortal eyes. That once, we were so innocent that the glimmering thing behind the veil must have been magic. As we grow into our adult eyes, we still seek what cannot exist. We might deny that true love at first sight cannot be, and yet we all race to see such a tale told. We all refuse the existence of a magical world, and yet tales are still enthralled with a fairy and her troll.
Today, we are thrown into a world with tales of sparkling vampires, teenage harlequin love, and slave girls that fall in love with the one who abuses her. Romance it seems, is dying. It is getting harder and harder to find a beautiful story with substance and those romantic ideals woven into its very cornerstones. Even our language is dying. The younger the generation, the fewer words they use to express themselves. It seems it has become a struggle to find a tale to match those of our past, and that, my friend, is why Scripto Romantique exists. So that perhaps you and I can fight to keep such splendid things alive. I implore you to read on and join our ranks. Trust me when I say you won’t regret it.