Of Death and Desire


I didn’t ask her name, I absorbed it.
“Sestenia,” she purred without moving her lips, her perfect ruby lips.
That was it, the only word she ever spoke. Four syllables rolled over a foreign tongue, sent forth from between pouting, ruby mankillers of want to cascade over this soul. I cannot explain it any other way, for God never provided the means. It was as if I’d been cast into a crimson of ocean of lust and heart and blood, an uncompromising submersion in she with no hope of surviving. I floundered. I fell.
She watched from the shadows with blinking violet eyes; I feared yet remained. The Earth had lost its hold on me, her gravity drawn me in, she the pole to which my compass pointed, my equator, my landfall, my all. I could do nothing but submit to the crescendo of her waves and drown…drown…drown. More pertinent a fact, I wanted to. How I yearned to sink to her abyssal plain and never surface again. If it meant being with her forever, it was worth it.
Aeons past in those few seconds, lifetimes of me and she, of love and life, death and desire. I saw what she had seen, lived what she had ruled through, wept for those she’d lost. She was not the killer, the butchering demon legends told of. Oh, no, she was far from that. She loved every one of them for she shared their blood, their hearts, their souls. She felt them in love and life and death, always and forever. And, there beneath that deadly moon, I was next.
Good. I was ready…

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