There were sinister beings in the meadow that consumed women’s souls. They feasted on the joy of our youth. We all knew it. That is why mama locked the doors before we went to sleep.
She sprinkled holy water on the windows and doors. Mama even prayed over her sweet little virgins before we went to bed.
She had secured us from the sultry seduction of these ravenous demons from the pits of hell. However, she had forgotten to close the only window that really mattered; our hearts.
Mama left our hearts thirsty, curious, and hungry. As passions fluttered aimlessly, fanned by the winds of youthful lust, the shutters flew open. That is where they entered from.
We screamed, but no one heard us. We were alone. What would we do?
Mama had spoken of these beasts with such vehement repulsion. It was the kind she reserved for the pungent odor of manure that wafted in from the neighbor’s farm. She spoke of their serpentine forked tongues. Mama even described their blackened horns and dead eyes that turned women to stone.
The very thought of these beasts frightened us. They haunted our dreams with their bat-like wings and raspy drawn breaths as they moved in for the kill.
Now here they were, these beasts, ready to ravage us.
What shall we do? Mama, where are you? Mama, help us!
“Men… They are horrible, blood-sucking, demonic beasts from hell! Have nothing to do with them my children,” Mama always said.
“Never ever let them look you in the eye. Don’t let them speak, for if you do, if they utter even a word as they look you in the eye, then you are doomed, completely under their spell, undone and all but dead.” Mama had insisted.
So we closed our eyes and shut our ears. We weren’t going to let them harm us; let them eat us up. Although we did mama, we peeped through our hands and stared straight into their eyes lit up under starry skies. Then they cursed us; I’m sure of it.
They cursed us with their big brown eyes and bound us. That was the only explanation, right? Of course it was! Why else would we have been so confused, been so close to death, but never felt so ALIVE?
Mama, even I tried to fight it, but their eyes, his eyes, they burned me. They called to me. They were soft and beautiful and made my stomach churn. So I answered, stepped closer, and took his hand.
He had to be an angel mama, perhaps even a son of the gods. He had wings silvery white like winter morning. When he spoke I swear that thunder rose from his tongue. It shot bolts right through my robes. Then he kissed me mama, oh did he kiss me, and it was like heaven on earth.
It was like thunderstorms and the hot sun, and everything else both wonderful and treacherous.
Why mama? Why were men nothing close to what you had painted them as?
He especially was everything but what you’d described. I searched for the horns atop his curly head, but my fingers drowned in coconut oil and passion. I felt for his serpentine tongue, but his kisses were too glorious. His hands were too full of tender soft warmth and where mama, where were those dead eyes?
At first, I feared to look into them, but when I did, I glared in awe. They were the most alive that I had ever seen eyes appear. The pair of them devoured me whole, but I had never been more awakened.
I have never felt more deprived and it was all because of YOU mama!
It turns out that you never did all you did to keep them out, but rather to keep us in; keep us clean.
Well too bad mama! The windows are shattered now. These sheets are soiled in decadence galore and drowned in myrrh and lust so raw, and mama, so are your sweet little virgins.
Yes, no longer are they, are we, am I.
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