She lay by the lakeside; in the moonlight
casting no perceptible shadow against the glistening waters.
Strangely restless and content, weaving and unweaving her matted
coils…some stangled and twisted to hideous effect or laid as they were. Dark,
tangled strings that reflected the surrounding gloom.
He had escaped far too often, she had let
him live the ignorant dream…his scent deadly yet irresistible…his high notes
ripping her apart…
Letting him believe to be the victor
in this ancient game she had perfected into an art. The night was their
timeless friend, eternal enemy; bewitching , betraying, bespoken…rendering
them puppets to mutual desire and hatred.
A secret dance, feverish glance
lacking tenderness…wine and viper, stillness and motion, beast and prey
circling in vanity and pride.
Soft footfalls, shodden grass groaning
under the slight strain…picture perfect. They waited, glinting eyes and forked
tongue for the sweet song to soothe and succumb to, for a little while.
Medusa and the nightly visitor, her
lover and foe, evenly matched but tonight one would fall , the other would
savour a shallow victory…as he played his magical notes, the coils unraveled…inhabiting every inch of the tiny meadow that was their’s alone to
claim.
