The Emerald Light of Sol

THE ENCHANTER

Shall silver run o’er sight unshun.

Parse twig from bundle, brun doré one,

and be burned by Sol with writhing tongue.

To the East be thee far flung.

Never set, eternally clung.

Manny ran his fingers over the poem elaborately etched into the wooden table. Its meaning eluded him, but it was quirks like this that made the local coffee shop his favorite place in the town of Marquette. The shop was created way back in the sixties by artists and bohemians who were all graduates of ITU (Isac Tomkin University), and after a fellow student heaped mounds of praise on the shop, Manny has been a regular since his freshman year. Awash with the scent and sight of black cherry wood, the shop's founders dubbed their place “The Cherry House." Unlike its corporate competitors, potted plants were in every nook, climbing vines covered almost its entire eastern wall, and the place was a sea of paintings and sculptures that adorned every cranny. Often the aroma of cannabis and linseed mingled with the scent of ground coffee that ebbed and flowed throughout, and every tam hatted stoner and artist called The Cherry House their home away from home; the creative’s initiation hall.

An upstairs gallery in the shop hosted art exhibitions in the evenings, and Manny had a chance to present his portfolio just the year prior. Not only did he get some great critique sessions, but being placed center stage got him laid more times the week of his exhibition than ever before or since. That was the other thing about his local coffee shop that he loved: the women. My god, the women, he thought as he took a sip from his mug.

There was a saying in town about hot coffee and loose women referred to as “Lucies” that he found rather amusing, and an even more crude one involving popped cherries at The Cherry House was often bantered about. Despite his distaste for the latter saying, the many stunning women that congregated at the shop did not escape his attention, and he was not ashamed to admit that he indeed dabbled in their less than conservative exploits from time to time. And why should he be ashamed? He was a young man in his prime, enrolled in an art program at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Should he not rejoice in making love to the lovely ladies who were some of the most divine works of art upon the face of the earth, or so... that’s how he liked to think about them, because for him, sex and spiritualism were entwined. Now if only that morning would one of the renowned Cherry House Lucies make themselves known; he’d shoot his shot and hopefully have some fun later on. He didn’t get dressed up in his finest black turtleneck, blue designer jeans, and brown lapel coat for nothing.

After getting his morning dose of caffeine, he looked down again at the etched poem. He deduced that one of his fellow art students must have been responsible for it. The letters were etched in an exquisite cursive, and around them was carved a flowery crest. At the bottom of the crest was a fasces, with one of its sticks jutting out from its center. At the top of the crest was a sun-burst motif that was cut in half as if it were rising, or perhaps it was setting; he couldn’t tell. Though he still could not ascertain its meaning, he did admire the craftsmanship. Whoever etched it had a way with wood—a talent he did not possess, for his forte was painting. He reached for his caffeine again, and mid-sip, he noticed three women with vibrant green hair about to sit down at a table not far from his. Even though there were all types of women with dyed hair who frequented the Cherry House, it was mostly an assortment of what he liked to call "rainbow barf" that did not necessarily aesthetically please him. In fact, he found the style to be quite tacky, but to be honest, so long as they had a pretty face and a nice ass, he could let the rainbow barf slide. There was something different about these Lucies’ hair, though, that he could not at first resolve.

The first girl to his left was the tallest of the three—taller than him, in fact. She had a slim figure and creamy skin with nary a blemish. Long, straight hair with a rich turquoise hue dangled behind her. She kept it bound in a single braid, and it was so long it nearly touched the floor. Her eyes had the same rich turquoise hue, and they seemed to glisten like gems, enchanting all she looked upon.

The shortest of the three only stood up to the first woman's shoulders. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for in curves, for quite elegant mounds shaped her hourglass form. She had ivory skin that was spattered with freckles, and compared to the others, her hair was the most verdant. It was also quite long, though not as lengthy as the girl to his left. Her verdurous locks had a sheen like silk and hung to her dimples of Venus. Thick bangs draped over her brow, and unlike her hair, her eyes were a pallid jade, giving her a ghostly gaze that could pierce the flesh and examine the soul.

On his right was the third girl, who was the second tallest—only an inch or so difference from the first girl, and short slick tufts lay closely to her scalp. A lime green pixie cut gave her a sporty look that was even more accentuated by her toned athletic build. She had skin of creamy caramel and eyes mingled with lime and hazel. An air of zest and spirit exuded from her being that quickened the soul and enlivened the loins.

Manny became mesmerized by the women and noticed a waiter went to greet them, for The Cherry House was different in many ways from its corporate competitors. It didn’t believe in long lines, so it hired waiters to take the orders of seated customers. When the waiter finished getting the green-haired women’s orders, the mesmerized art student flagged her down as she walked by his table. He had become well acquainted with the staff since his art exhibition and knew most of them by name.

“Greta… Who are they?” he asked.

“Don’t know Hun… I’ve never seen them before. Perhaps they also attend ITU.”

“Nahh, I would have noticed them.”

“Manny, not everyone is in the art program; maybe they have different majors, and therefore you’ve never crossed paths.”

“Perhaps,” he said as his eyes never left the green-haired women.

“Well, since I can clearly tell you’re enamored; they all ordered hot green tea, should I put it on your tab, Mister Horndog?” she asked grinningly.

“Yes… Yes, thank you, Greta.”

“You’re welcome, Hun. Now go get your green-haired Lucies; just be careful. I’ve seen many like you come through here wide-eyed and randy only to leave with either a little one they didn’t intend to have or the gift of the clap, which, I can assure you, nobody wants for Christmas.”

“Yeah, Greta, I’ll be careful,” he said while still fixated on the three women. The waitress walked off with a sigh and head shaking.

Manny did intend to go greet them, but he didn't want it to be awkward. He needed a sign before making his move. He’d know what it was when it showed itself; he just had to be patient. Though, he hoped he wasn’t being too patient.

What if they leave after drinking their tea? I would have paid for their drinks for nothing. What if they never give a sign? Should I just go over there now? He thought as self-doubt riddled his brain.

Almost as soon as he was about to get up and make his way to their table, sign or not, the tall one glanced his way. It was brief, but within those few seconds, her turquoise eyes dazzled in the morning light. He could almost see the glare of sparkles trailing behind her as she smiled and turned back to face the other women. That was his sign, but he would not act in haste. He waited several seconds before getting up, then grabbed his bag, portfolio, and coffee before walking over to them. As he got closer, all three of the green-haired women turned their gazes towards him almost simultaneously. His cheeks flushed red, but he got over his nervousness and blurted out a greeting.

“Good morning, ladies. Are you new to town?”

They looked at each other, then turned to face him again, and the one with the pallid eyes spoke for the trio.

“Yes. New to town.”

Manny couldn’t quite make out the accent. It wasn’t American, but French Canadians did come to town from time to time. Perhaps they’re from across The Big Lake, he thought.

Before he could say another word, Greta snuck up behind him and blurted,

“Here is your tea, ladies, nice and hot.”

After placing the steaming mugs on the tall bistro table, the pallid-eyed one reached in her purse and was about to take out a wallet until Greta proclaimed,

"No no, honey, you’re good.”

“No remuneration?” The pallid-eyed one queried with that strange accent again.

"This fine gentleman here already took care of that, dear,” said Greta. As she walked away, she winked at Manny.

Greta You’re the best damn wingman ever, he thought.

He could jump right out and hug her to death, for her timing and setup were nearly flawless. I’ll have to do something nice for her one day, he thought, but his attention soon went back to the three green-haired women.

“May I join you?” Manny asked as a victorious smile molded his visage.

The green-haired women looked at each other again, then back at him, but this time the tall one smiled and spoke for them all.

“Yes, please join.”

“Yes, many thanks for remuneration,” followed the sporty one with a cheerful smile.

Manny looked at the pallid-eyed one expecting a similar politeness, but she merely stared at him with that ghostly gaze. He noticed she hardly ever blinked, and it was a bit nerve-racking considering the other two seemed more welcoming. Perhaps she’s the trio’s resident cock-blocker; there is always at least one of them in a group, he thought, but usually they are the fat or ugly ones. She had a weird gaze, for sure, but she was far from obese or unattractive. Despite what he perceived as a minor setback for a planned night of sacred carnality, he sat down.

“Welcome to Marquette, ladies. My name is Emmanuelle Abattoir, but most just call me Manny,” he said cheerfully.

“Penkwe, this is my name,” the enchanted-eyed one on his left replied as a beautiful smile graced her visage. She had an elegant air about her, and Manny wondered how such a graceful poise would hold up during the savage strokes between the sheets.

“I am called Milli,” responded the sporty one on his right as she grinned and giggled in the most cute way imaginable. It’s like she took great joy in saying her name, as a child would upon first learning of it. Manny found it to be quite adorable.

He then looked to the pallid-eyed one sitting directly across from him, and her gaze seemed to be even more intrusive and cold.

“Fimfae,” she said dryly. The very presence of the other two titillated him, but this one said her name without any hint of emotion or interest, and still she gazed at him, so Manny quickly looked away.

Yup, these three are definitely weird, but they're also hot; even the gazing one is pretty cute, he thought. He was used to the women he hooked up with being sort of out there considering they were mostly fellow art students, but there was something definitely different about these three. The idea of making love to one of these peculiar yet stunning works of art intrigued him.

“So uh… What country are you ladies from?” he queried.

Penkwe and Milli turned to Fimfae like they didn’t know what to say, like only their pallid-eyed companion would have the answer. She’s clearly the queen bee, thought Manny.

“Far away,” said Penkwe with a smile after turning back to face him.

“Yes, yes, very far,” Milli gleefully reaffirmed.

He thought it odd that they would not reveal their home country, but he also did not want to pry. His ultimate goal, of course, wasn’t to learn more about their country but to get these Lucies in bed. He never had a threesome before, and it seemed that a foursome was out of the question considering how Fimfae kept staring at him. I have to somehow get her out of the picture, he thought.

After a brief silence, he took a sip of his coffee, and Milli giggled and said,

“Yes, yes, drink and be merry.”

The green-haired trio then also drank their tea, but even when consuming her beverage, Fimfae never took her ghostly gaze off of him.

Now that he was closer, he noticed other things about them. For one, they smelled amazing, like sweet lilac and lilies, and their verdant hair almost seemed natural. Manny knew this was impossible and was sure it was dyed, but there was something about the color of their hair that looked right, like it could be no other color. He also noticed that each of them wore identical ovate pendants. Penkwe wore hers as a brooch under the collar of her shirt. Milli wore hers above an open-bust sweater, and it was attached to a choker around her neck. Lastly, Fimfae wore hers as a chained necklace that hung around her turtle neck and down to her bountiful bosom. The pendants had metallic sunburst iconography at their centers and were crest with gold. A transparent gem gave the sunny symbols a greenish hue, and they glistened in the morning rays that burst through the front windows. The pendants reminded him of the sun symbol carved above the poem he read earlier.

“Are one of you responsible for the lovely etching over there on the table I was sitting at before?”

Again, both Penkwe and Milli looked at Fimfae like she had all the answers. They looked upon him with confused expressions, so he ascertained that none of them could be the artist.

“Well, I guess that means you aren’t in the art program,” Manny deduced.

“No, no. We are not,” confirmed Penkwe.

“Well, then, ladies, what brings you to town?” he asked curiously.

“Festival,” said Fimfae coldly, still with an x-ray gaze.

“Oh, a festival. What is the celebration about? I’m fairly new to town myself, but I thought I’d been to all the festivals in this area.”

“Not in town… in forest,” responded Milli with a cheerful grin.

Manny had heard rumors of a nomadic commune filled with hot lesbians who would set up camp in the hills of Marquette County during the fall. It was said they threw banging parties out in the woods during some type of fertility festival where they would give themselves to men once a year. The idea being, they would keep the children that may be sired from such illicit unions, but he always thought it an urban legend.

“You come. Come to festival,” suggested Penkwe as her enchanting eyes gleamed and glistened.

“Yes, come,” encouraged Milli, while Fimfae still mysteriously gazed at him.

They were indeed very strange, but if they really were part of some lesbian commune that threw fertility festivals, this might be his one and only chance at a threesome in his life. So he acquiesced.

“Sure ladies. I’d love to come. When is it?”

“Tonight,” said Penkwe. “We pick up here later. 8:00 pm.“

Perfect! I’ve hit the jackpot, he thought. The Cherry House has yet to fail me. I love this fucking place!‌

“8:00 pm it is then, ladies. I’ll be sure to meet you back here.”

Penkwe smiled elegantly, and Milli giggled and blushed after he accepted their offer. Manny turned to look at Fimfae, expecting another expressionless and ghostly gaze, but even she now cracked a smile.

Perhaps a foursome isn’t off the table after all, he thought.

THE EXAMINER

When he was done with his classes, Manny made his way to a house near campus that he was renting with some fellow students. He was sure not to tell his roommates about his date with his fine green-haired Lucies, for they would want to tag along. No, this conquest of the legendary nomadic lesbians he would do alone and later regale in the tales of his exploits to lesser men’s chagrin. The notion had him grinning with confident satisfaction, so much so he gyrated with glee while brushing his teeth. His breath had to be mintier than peppermint; his hair as coiffed as Elvis’s pompadour; and his clothes as fine as the Pope’s regalia. Not too fine though, this is, after all, a romp in the forest, he thought.

After showering and freshening up, he drove back to town but was sure to leave just a little late, for he didn’t want to seem desperate. Arriving about ten minutes after eight, he pulled up and parked as close to The Cherry House as he could, for it was a bustling Friday night. He’d have to walk a bit to get there, though; he was close enough to see his three dates in the distance. They were near a wood-panel station wagon, like one he’d seen his grandfather driving in an old photo album. As Manny got closer, he noticed the wagon was still in very good condition, despite clearly being decades old. Fimfae was sitting on the hood, reading a small book with her large pallid eyes. Penkwe’s tall frame was bent over, looking cheerfully in a window at some glistening jewelry, and Milli had found some handsome street performer that she gleefully sang along with. Manny thought her voice was heavenly, but he instantly became jealous of the duet. I won’t let this fool rain on my parade, he thought, and with the most debonair and masculine voice he could muster, he blurted out,

“Sorry I’m late, Ladies; I had some important business to attend to.”

Upon hearing his voice, Milli dashed away from the street performer and over to him, then gave him a big hug that somewhat surprised him.

“You made it Manny!” she said excitedly.

Penkwe gracefully came up behind him, slipped her slim arm around his body, and elegantly caressed his tummy. When did they get so touchy-feely. Then again, I’m not complaining, he thought. Fimfae rose from her book; her pallid eyes intently looked upon Manny, and she cracked another faint smile. Two smiles in a row; perhaps she won’t be trouble at all; seems she’s just the shy and quiet one, he thought.

“Let us depart,” she said dryly, and then made her way to the driver’s side of the car. I wonder why they have such antiquated ways of speaking, he thought as Milli pulled him by the hand and into the backseat. Penkwe made her way to the passenger side, and soon they were off to the festival. When they passed by The Cherry House, Manny peaked out the car window and grinned at the street performer. The singer smiled and nodded back at him, as if to say, well done, my man, well done. This is gonna be a great night, thought Manny.

Crossing over the Dead River, they passed Isac Tomkin University and went off into the hills of Marquette County. The green-haired Lucies asked him many questions during their journey. Most of them were about his hobbies and life in general. When he tried to ask about their own lives, he got only short and pleasant responses, and they would then revert to asking about him. Fimfae rarely spoke at all, and ever so often he’d notice her pallid eyes gazing at him through the rearview mirror. It took them about an hour to reach their destination, but it hardly seemed that long since he was blabbering about himself the whole way. Milli’s constant cuddling also certainly made the time pass, and she had gotten so comfortable with him that she had taken off her shoes and leaned into his arms for almost the entire trip. These lesbian Lucies are starving for male attention, he thought.

Eventually Fimfae turned down a dark dirt road where the ride got a little bumpier. They were beset by the Stygian forest, and it was the first time Manny had felt a little concerned about being so far away with people he didn’t know. Milli’s caress quickly dispelled those fears and after about twenty minutes on the dirt road, they came to a glade in the forest. Manny could not tell if the clearing was natural or man-made, but what he did notice in the moonlight was a massive grove at the center of it. The trees in this grove were strewn with string lights, and he could hear a booming bass emanating from its center. That’s where the party is, he thought.

They parked outside the grove, and Manny noticed other identical wood-panel station wagons as they got out of their vehicle. Milli and Penkwe led Manny by the hand, while Fimfae directed their way down a path and into the belly of the grove. Making a point to take note of his surroundings before he had the opportunity to partake of any booze or drugs, Manny noticed the trees in the grove looked quite odd. For one, they were evergreens, which alone was not unusual, even at the height of fall, but they also had peculiar-looking trunks. Instead of a singular solid column jutting out from the soil, these trees had two trunks extending out of the ground that merged into a singular column. They resembled giant wishbones, and some were so large that one could drive a car between the arch of the wishbone. Other trees were shorter, about the size of a man, but every one of them bore strange-looking fruit. They were pear-shaped but more elongated, almost phallic, and their skin was a metallic gold with green zebra streaks that wrapped their bulbous forms. Manny had never seen such a fruit, and he was sure it was some type of invasive species. As soon as he was about to inquire about its origin, Penkwe and Milli pulled him into yet another glade. This clearing was at the center of the grove, and a large tent was erected within it. A stunning full moon shone down upon them, and if it were not for the bright lights around the tent, he was sure one would be able to see the clearest night sky in Marquette County. He had a short time to view it, for Penkwe and Milli abruptly pulled him into the tent.

Inside, Manny saw a sea of green-haired women, at least twenty of them, dancing, drinking, and partying with a group of men. He looked around to see if any of the guys were familiar to him, but he realized they were all strangers. Presiding over the festivities behind a DJ’s booth was the largest, most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was well proportioned but tall, even taller than Penkwe, and he guessed that she would most likely stand toe to toe with an average NBA player. A thick mane of verdant hair hung behind her as she bobbed her head to the music she was mixing. Her skin was as pale as snow, and she wore a glittery gold body suit that fit tightly to her voluptuous form. Before he could ask about her or anything at all, Milli yanked him to the dance floor that quivered from the heavy bass. She gyrated and boogied to the rhythms while occasionally grinding on Manny in very seductive ways. He lost himself to the beat and shook and swayed his hips with glee as the club lights pirouetted throughout the tent.

Before he knew it, nearly an hour had passed, and he was exhausted from all the rug cutting. Penkwe came up to them and pulled him away from the dance floor. She brought him to a self-serve bar that had a large array of booze, and another table beside it had an assortment of delightful party foods.

“Thirsty?” Penkwe asked with a beautiful smile.

“Indeed, I am,” replied Manny.

“Please, drink and be merry,” she responded.

When mixing his drink, another man came to the bar with a smiling green-haired Lucy on his arm. He was an African American fellow, and this did not bother Manny in the least, but he also knew that not many black people lived on the Upper Peninsula. Manny also wasn’t a native, or Yooper, as they are called, but made his way to the UP from his native Milwaukee.

“Hey, what’s up bro? Where you from?” Manny shouted, for the bumping music made casual conversation at normal tones impossible.

“Me… I’m from Rhode Island—Providence,” the man yelled back as he joyfully poured himself a drink. His green-haired Lucy simply watched him with a smile as she clasped his waist.

“Wow, you’re a long way from home,” Manny pointed out while he bobbed to the music and sipped his liquor. Penkwe hugged his other arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, but this was worth the trip my man!”, the Rhode Islander exclaimed as he drank his booze and gyrated to the music. His green-haired Lucy gyrated along with him, and her emerald eyes never left him.

“Indeed!” Manny responded as he joyfully raised his glass. The Rhode Islander met it with his own glass, toasting to their good fortune.

“So, where did you two meet?” Manny inquired.

“Who? Me and Ghreswen?” He shouted while brightly looking down at the green-haired woman holding tightly to him, “I met her and her sisters in Providence about two weeks ago at an art show!”

“Oh, you’re an artist also!” Manny hollered; the rumbling music drowned out his voice.

“Yeah, a sculptor. Ghreswen and her sisters loved my work! They invited me out here to the festival! I’m gonna show them some of my techniques after, you know…” he said with a devilish grin.

Manny grinned back; he knew exactly what the Rhode Islander meant and guessed he couldn’t be the only one okay with fathering children for a group of lesbians, even if it meant he wouldn’t be in the kid’s life. Perhaps I should confirm that’s the case, he thought, for the more he pondered on it, the more he realized that getting dragged into family court because of some disgruntled knocked-up lesbians wasn’t ideal. He wondered what the sculptor knew about the festival’s true purpose beyond hearsay, especially since the man had clearly known his green-haired Lucies longer.

“Who would have thought the rumors were true!” Manny yelled in an attempt to probe, but a restless Ghreswwen pulled the Rhode Islander abruptly back to the dance floor. All the man could holler, before being drug into the sea of partyers was,

“What rumors!”

This was perplexing, but before Manny could ruminate on its ramifications, Penkwe also pulled him back to the dance floor. Milli joined them, and the next hour was some of the most fun Manny has ever had. Between dancing, drinking, eating, and singing along with all the hits that the statuesque DJ mixed, he had no time to be worried about anything. He did, however, notice a few things that he found interesting.

The first was that for every guy there, he deduced there were at least three green-haired Lucies attached to them. I bet that’s how their commune works; they split up in threes, he thought.

The second was that when the men took breaks to get a drink and eat, he noticed the green-haired Lucies never ate anything, and they would only drink water or a yellow-green punch. Manny tried some of the punch to find out how much liquor it contained. It was delicious but also non-alcoholic, and he figured it was most likely made from that strange fruit in the grove. He didn’t know what to think about this other than it sort of took the loose out of Lucies. He also found that it produced a tingling sensation in his legs that was more invigorating than alarming. In fact, it made him want to dance even more. These Lucies spiked the punch after all, he thought.

Lastly, he realized that even though every man in there had three green-haired Lucies attached to him, only two would dance with them at any given time. In fact, he noticed Fimfae was nowhere to be found and hadn’t danced with him at all. Right when he was about to inquire about her whereabouts, the master of ceremonies changed the vibe. She started to play some slow music, and the green-haired Lucies that were on the floor abruptly walked off, leaving the men. At first, the men found this to be odd, until all of their respective third green-haired Lucies came onto the dance floor, and he noticed that all of them had pallid eyes similar to Fimfae. She approached Manny shyly, blushing like this was about to be her first dance. He grabbed her hand and drew her close. She smiled and held onto him as they began to slowly dance to the music. Not long after, she stopped and looked up at him with her large pallid eyes. She was soft, supple, and had the scent of a spring garden in bloom. He looked down at her and smiled. She answered with a smile brighter than all her others before as she reached up and kissed his neck. The wet of her lips sent waves of arousal through his entire body, and she reached up and whispered something in his ear.

The soft, delicate words were almost verbatim what his first love had told him during their most intimate moment. It was something he had never shared with anyone, and it drove Manny into a feverish desire. He caressed the back of her head and kissed her sweetly on the lips, and then suddenly he felt as if his legs were on fire. The pain surged and pulsed through his body until he slipped into the void of unconsciousness and the empty black of naught.

THE SEDUCER

Manny awoke in a small tent, lying on a bed not his own. Grogginess pervaded him, and he felt weak, like he had just gotten over the flu. He raised his arm in the air and placed his hand in the rays beaming down from netted window atop of the tent. Where am I? The last thing I remember was… shit… what the fuck is happening, he thought.

He tried to get up, but suddenly he realized that not only was he bound to the bed with thick straps, but he also could not feel his legs. A gush of adrenalin had him squirming as he yelled and hollered in a panic. The commotion must have alerted them, for Penkwe, FimFae, and Milli came into the tent. Milli rushed to his side and held his head as she sang a song in a strange language. Her voice was celestial, and it soothed everything around her. Even the elements seemed to bow to her chime, for the sun dimmed, and a slight breeze quickened and swirled within the tent. Manny calmed, and his breathing returned to normal, along with his senses. He looked up at the green-haired Lucy holding him, and his memory began to return.

“Milli,” he said.

“Yes, I am called Milli,” she proclaimed with a gorgeous smile molding her visage.

“Where… where am I?” Manny desperately queried.

“You are with us,” she replied.

“But… but… what happened?”

“Accident. Very bad, but we take care of you,” she said before kissing him gently on the forehead.

Penkwe came to the side of the bed holding a pitcher full of a yellow-green liquid. Manny noticed that they no longer wore contemporary clothing, for they were now garbed in what looked like ponchos that were translucent white. They had green vine-like ropes tied around their waists and were naked under the cloth, but they still wore their pendants, except they were now all on chains.

“Here, he must drink,” said Penkwe as she handed the pitcher to Milli. Taking a glass off a small wooden table next to his bed, Milli poured some of the juice for Manny and placed the glass on his lips.

“Yes, drink my sweet. We take care of you,” she reaffirmed.

At first he took a small sip, then he started to gulp the juice down, for he was extremely parched. He noticed it was the same juice at the party that was made from the strange fruit, except now it wasn’t as sweet. Once he was done, he gasped. Milli giggled and kissed him again on the forehead. After clearing his throat, he noticed Fimfae at the foot of his bed. Her smile was gone, and her x-ray gaze had also evaporated. Instead, her stare almost looked blank, as if she were there and not there. Manny found it to be rather odd.

“Accident… you said I was in an accident. What happened?” Manny worriedly asked.

“We try to take home, and then car crash,” said Fimfae robotically. Manny burst into a fit of rage as he yowled.

“Wait… what!‌ Then get me to a hospital! What the fuck am I doing—”

Suddenly, Milli started singing again. Her angelic tones rushed through him, like the wet kiss Fimfae placed on his neck during the party. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was calmed again. She kissed him on the lips and poured him another glass. As he gulped it down, all three of his green-haired lucies in unison said,

“Drink, and be Merry.”‌

They left the pitcher of juice on the wooden table as they departed the tent, and that night Manny had strange and vivid dreams.

For two weeks straight, this was their ritual. His green-haired Lucies would enter his tent every day with a full pitcher of juice; he would demand answers, and Milli would console him into drinking his ire away. Every day the juice got more and more bitter, and he began to lose a lot of weight despite never feeling hungry after drinking. He began to suspect that, despite their beautiful appearance, they were rotten to the core and meant him no good. The car accident story just made no sense. If they were all indeed in an accident, why was he injured while all three of them had nary a bruise, and what about all the other station wagons he saw? Why not take him to a hospital in one of those? None of it was right, and he didn’t intend on letting some crazy lesbian cultist do whatever it was they were going to do to him. He had made up his mind; he was going to take a stand. Yes, while I’ve still got the strength, he thought.

On the first day of the third week of his captivity, he waited until Milli got close enough to caress him. Grabbing her fiercely by the neck so she could not belt that beguiling song, Manny, with all the ferocity and masculine rage that he could muster, bellowed out,

“You fucking slags!‌ Get me to a hospital or I’ll snap her fucking neck!”

All Fimfae and Penkwe did was gaze at him, unmoving. They didn’t rush to save Milli; they just stood and stared calmly, unsettlingly so.

“What are you fucking staring at, you goddamn Lucies!” He hollered, but they didn’t budge, not one inch.

He looked to Milli, and she also stared down at him with her eyes half closed. She did not struggle or try to escape his grasp; she merely let her body dangle like a lifeless corpse. This shocked Manny, dumbfoundingly so, and he loosened his grip. Milli did not retaliate; she instead held him in her arms and began to kiss him sensually on the lips. Her soft body rubbed against his, and her dainty hand reached under the blanket and made its way to his crotch. Manny lost himself in her wet kisses and lecherous touch, and he fondled her soft mounds of flesh as saliva dribbled down his cheek. He wanted to kill her, but he also wanted to fuck her. His own hands soon made their way to her supple breasts, and as they massaged and groped her conical mounds, he realized something very peculiar. She didn’t have nipples. Where they should have been was merely soft skin. Their translucent garb hid this fact from him, and when Milli was done calming him, she got up, took the pitcher of juice from Penkwe, and placed it by his glass on the wooden table. The three then made their way to the tent’s exit, but before they left, they turned to him and said in unison,

“Drink, and be Merry.”

That night, he pondered what nippleless women could mean, and even stranger and wonderous dreams invaded his sleep.

By the end of the fourth week of his captivity, he had become so weak and emaciated that he could not fight back, even if he wanted to. On the fifth day of the fifth week, the trio came into his tent, but this time they did not have their usual pitcher of bitter juice. Instead, Fimfae held a large butcher’s cleaver. Alarmed, Manny tried to yell out, but didn’t have the strength. Milli came and held him, then said,

“Calm, my sweet; we take care of you.”

She kissed him on the forehead while Penkwe undid the straps that kept him bound to the bed. She then moved the blanket down, revealing his legs. They were thin, and gangrene had set in. Fimfae took a position on the other side of the bed and coldly raised the cleaver. Reaching out, Manny mustered up a weak “no,”, but Milli sensually placed her hand on his arm and brought it down. She then kissed his emaciated face all over as Fimfae swiftly dropped the cleaver; he barely felt a thing. Penkwe took the severed and mangled limbs and wrapped them up in a sheet while Fimfae cleaned his nubby wounds. Tears gushed from his eyes, and Millie seductively licked them from his skeletal visage while still kissing and caressing him. When they were done, Penkwe brought in more bitter juice, and again, in unison, they said,

“Drink, and be Merry.”

That night, he dreamed that Penkwe, Fimfae, and Milli were walking lifelessly towards each other in a sea of darkness. They were naked and coming from different directions, but eventually they would meet. As they got closer and closer to each other, they didn’t slow their stride, for they didn’t seem to notice one another. In a fleshy collision, they gushed into each other, their bodies merging and convulsing into a hideous amalgamation of pale mounds, limbs, and hair. It mutated and throbbed endlessly, and it began to sing angelically like Milli. Though, soon the celestial chime morphed into a deathly groan so horrible, it awoke him from his slumber.

It was still dark, and rain poured as thunder boomed. There was no light in the tent, and the moon was not out, so he couldn’t see anything. Lightning flashed through the tent’s window, and for an instant, he saw his three green-haired Lucies standing around his bed. This startled him so much that he yelped out in angst. Suddenly he heard and saw the spark of a match that made its way up and lit an old-fashioned lantern, illuminating the tent. Fimfae was holding it, while Penkwe stood behind an empty wheel chair. Milli bent down next to him and kissed him on the forehead.

“It is time,” she said lovingly.

“Time… time for what?” he responded with a broken and frail voice.

“Time for festival,” she said, smiling and innocently biting her lip.

They gently and methodically got him out of bed and into the wheelchair. Pushing him out of the tent, they guided him past a series of other tents identical to his where he heard a cacophony of groans and moans. The rain soaked their bodies, but it soon subsided as they made their way to the center glade in the grove. Where the party tent once stood, there was erected a large scaffolding made of logs that was so tall that it extended above the wishbone trees. They wheeled him up a ramp that led to a platform atop the scaffolding, and all the green-haired Lucies from the party were there. There were twenty-six in all, for thirteen of them were on the left side of the platform, and when his trio of Lucies gathered with the others on the right side, they also made up thirteen. At the center stood the tall, statuesque DJ, who wore similar translucent garb as the others. She was on top of another platform that had two logs jutting up from it with rope and pulleys atop them both.

The DJ signaled to Penkwe, and she rolled Manny to her platform by going up another ramp beside it. Bending down to face Manny’s frail body, the DJ smiled and poured him another glass of bitter juice. He drank it without fuss, for his will had been broken. They then placed a device over his eyes so that he could not close them, and they maneuvered him out of the wheel chair by tying his wrist to the two ropes that were attached to the poles. Fimfae and Milli pulled on them and lifted him up. All the green-haired Lucies started to sing that celestial chime in unison as the sun started to rise. The platform faced the east, so Manny had no choice but to look upon the sun as it rose above the horizon. Their angelic chorus echoed throughout the forest, and waves of emotion rushed through every part of Manny’s being. As the sun got brighter and higher in the sky, it began to burn his corneas. He writhed and squirmed as the radiant beams started to blind him, but soon the sun magnificently shed its outer golden layers like a butterfly molting from a cocoon. Under it blazed a brilliant emerald light, and its verdant rays pulled and tugged on Manny’s consciousness, expanding it and drawing it out. He soared over the forest as it was bathed in the emerald dawn, and the light revealed large and otherworldly floating creatures that hovered over the myriad trees. They were terror incarnate, gelatinous and translucent, and the mere sight of them nearly drove Manny mad. Electric bolts emanated from their seemingly symbiotic unions with the trees, and long tendrils from their horrible forms wrapped around their leafy host. Thousands of these monstrosities swayed about as the celestial chime wafted and swirled through the foliage. Suddenly, his consciousness was drawn swiftly back to his body, and he looked down upon the green-haired Lucies who corralled around him, singing and basking in the emerald light. What he saw was something so strange that it defied all logic and sanity. Similar creatures to the ones in the forest were attached to all the green-haired Lucies. For every three Lucies, one monstrosity was attached by way of three tendrils to the backs of their necks. It was like the women were mere puppets or drones, and Penkwe, Fimfae, and Milli stood below him humped over, like they were no longer sentient. The monstrous blob that had its tendrils attached to them unbound itself, and Penkwe, Fimfae, and Milli’s lifeless bodies fell to the ground. The creature then took its gelatinous tendrils and wrapped them around Manny’s mummified body. They made their way up his form until they reached the back of his skull. Pushing their way in, like his skin, bone, and flesh weren’t there, it found his pineal gland, and the horrid creature’s body began to throb and pulsate. Green energy emanated from its form as electric bolts accompanied the Lucies’ eerie, harmonious chiming. Manny’s body contorted and morphed. His head and arms merged into one single column of wood and bark, and twisting vines grew from the stubs that were left after his legs were severed. The vines sturdied and grew into two trunks that arched like a wishbone. Roots intertwined and dangled from his wishbone trunk, and leaves sprouted from his branches. Soon he bore his first fruit, identical to the ones he thought strange in the grove, and after that, the emerald light dissipated with the last of Manny’s sentience.

Years later, in the grove, what little was left of Manny’s awareness could hear Milli’s angelic singing coming towards him. They visited him when they could, and Penkwe would gather his fruit and make her bitter juice. Fimfae would sit under his arch and read her books, and Milli would sing and dance around his arched trunk. The first time they visited, Fimfae took one of the pear-shaped fruits and took a bite out of it. It seemed to give her vibrance, and they would all eat of him to maintain their youth. Taking a small knife from her pocket, Milli carved an elaborate sun-motif in his trunk with the word "Lamm" at the center of it. She then kissed his bark like she did his forehead when he was still a man. After Penkwe harvested his fruit, she would use her watering can to provide him with sustenance, and before they departed, they would say in unison,

“Drink, and be merry.”