Voodoo

Someone must have put a pouch under my porch or written my name and Saint George’s Park on a thigh bone, for I was drawn to the place even though my business lay across town. At the centre of a semi circle of gawking tourists I found her with a boa, a real one, around her shoulders and her bare feet seeming to float over the grass. There was something in her movements which called to me. She was comely of course, but it was more than mere lust. I loosened my tie as she moved close by me trailing the scent of lavender, and I wondered how fast I would have to run to make my appointment.

I was just about to turn, when she, having placed her snake with an assistant, began a new, wilder dance, flourishing many-coloured veils with sequins which flashed in the sun. The air caught in my throat as one of the veils writhed. Then it lunged, sinking its flashing teeth into my veins. I should have woven a protective spell or bought a charm, but by then it was too late, her venom was in my blood. I knew it as I clutched the silky veil in my hands, and I know it now; I must love her or die.

Advertisements
Previous Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: