Dun Violinist

He thought he would be able to feel my soft skin. He thought he would be able to lay his chubby, greasy fingers on my svelte silhouette. Grave mistake. My mind is faster than all of his clumsy moves, none of which would have been able to take me by surprise; never! A pig, like all the rest. A poor, slow, slob of a pretender. Hahaha… and now that he has fallen prey to my kiss nothing can save him.

Hmmmm… although I must acknowledge it is not entirely his fault. Ego aside, because I truly despise narcissism and egocentrism, I can say I am nearly impossible to resist. My harmonious, well-defined, adequately proportionate curves, the tint of my skin, so uncertain and vibrant, simply unique, and my silky legs, slender and toned. Oh, and my back! A marvelous violin exuding the music of my being! I am a painfully enthralling temptation, especially for those brutes! Where I come from, and where I go are always mysteries. I am but a fleeting vision, almost a hallucination, a sudden, surprising presence that entices any and all unsuspecting eyes. Once they see me they have to chase me, desperately lost, without the slimmest light of hope to guide them. All I want is to be left alone, to walk around wherever I will without being harassed; but such is my karma, and I know I can’t escape it, not in this lifetime.

If only they came to understand that they need to be subtle, tender, patient, and always assertive; then I could show them a thousand wonders, I could make them see beyond their material limitations. I am crazy like the rest of us, whoever denies it is a blatant liar, but a fraction of my particularity can turn into a real north star if but allowed to become a sublime desire; small, proper doses of me would lift them beyond the heavens. I could take them to see those fields they so fondly imagine await them after death. I could make them hear the voices of angels calling like bells in the highest spheres of spiritual bliss. I could make every smell and taste sweeter, more intense than anything they’ve even imagined. But theirs is a world where once you and yours have been judged, little can be done to change their hearts.

They still have a lot to learn. They don’t know how to feel a situation, how to connect with the absolute present, and so they jump into unsolicited action, searching, fondling, slapping here and there. It really infuriates me! When I finally lose my decorum then nothing can hold me back and all I want to do is push them to the edge of sanity, and cage them in never-ending, teary desperation! It’s a game of cat and mouse that only I can end. My evasive maneuvers are perfectly timed, and no matter how hard they try, how much they aim for me, they always miss.

This latest jerk really crossed the line when he grabbed a newspaper, rolled it into a club and tried to smash me with it. Fool! I was so quick that he didn’t notice my sprint, my eight agile legs tip-tapping up the printed tunnel, nor the invisible thread I used to fling myself onto his black shirt, an appropriate color for his now inevitable funeral. He never saw me coming as I jumped onto his left hand, and by then it was already too late. I am a divine warrior of stealth! Now that I have bitten him, my poison will slowly eat up his flesh, destroying all living tissue, sinking him into an agonizing, well deserved, lonely death.