Masquerade

by O.O. Sangoyomi

My mother, on the other hand, remained unamused. She had worked with far too many precious metals to be impressed by the silver of the stranger’s tongue.

“She makes that silly flower again and again, yet she still does not understand that it would not have died had it not been beautiful enough to be picked in the first place.”

It was this, even more than our seemingly mystical abilities, that made us so despised; our largest crime was being, not just women, but women without a man to belong to.

I would not soon forget how these women had patronized my pleading with appeasing words and pitying gazes, as though my voice was meant to be quelled rather than heard. It was only now that a man had pronounced my worthiness that they suddenly remembered their responsibility to serve me.

Yessss don’t forget don’t forgive

Men called us witches, they thought us demons, and yet, it was they who wished to possess us.

After all, perfection was perfection; no matter if it was born, or if it was achieved.

I looked around the group, meeting as many pairs of eyes as possible, as I declared, “Do not allow me to be the last woman whom you get fucked by.”

“Very well. I did not want to be second anyway,” I said, which was true. I had asked knowing he would say no. But still, I had to give him the chance.

QUEEN ENERGY

“I suppose that neither of our children will sit on the throne now.”

“Long live the queen.”

BABE