I have long waited for this day. Many years, in fact. My hair can finally be bound now.
For thirteen years, I have prayed for this moment to come. I have some peace at last.
You may know me as The Dark Princess, The Queen, The Hairdresser, or even – Whore, Temptress, Slave. But I prefer the name Father gave me – Fireborn. Legend (or lore) has it that I was brought to this world from a sacrificial fire and for a purpose.
I was destined for great things, some said. But they also predicted I would suffer terrible violations. Either way, I didn’t have an ordinary life. Many desired me, but to my great delight, the best warrior on earth won my hand. However, his family had other unorthodox ideas, and I ended up married to him and his brothers! (Word of advice: Steer clear of men who worship their mothers)
The world balked at this unusual arrangement. Some insulted me, my girlfriends were slightly envious of this polyamoury and yet others pitied me for having to manage five marriages all at once. But no one could have imagined what was to come. My strong, brave, handsome, wise, kind-hearted husbands were all at once impotent in the Great Hall of Elders. I still remember being dragged by my hair mercilessly into court, declared a slave and disrobed. The evil brothers leered and laughed. 5 husbands and yet, the only one who came to my rescue was my best friend. I knew then I would never love anyone as much I loved Him.
I made a vow then. I swore not to tie my disheveled hair till I washed it with the blood of my molester. For the next 13 years of exile, I mixed anger into my husbands’ food and wove vengeance into their dreams. Each time I made love, my body reminded them of their shame.
My promise was fulfilled today. I cleansed my hair with my enemy’s blood. Reports say his arms were torn off his body for what he did to me. My maids also inform me that almost all of the hundred evil brothers are wiped out. Poets are composing verses now hailing me as Goddess Kali. But today I have finally lived up to my name – Fireborn.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air
This post was inspired by the writing cue for Womens’s Web Muse of the Month (November 2019)
The poem Lady Lazarus by poet and author Sylvia Plath
“Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.”