Ah, my poor papa
Unfortunate soul
Who’d wandered too close
To the evil Beast’s lair
A towered castle
Where very few entered,
And none left, ever
Their bodies not seeing
The warm light of day
This I knew, for the stories abound
And knowing a darker truth
I chose carefully, searching through
My books of fine knowledge
Prepared to rescue my dear papa
A phial of this, a planger of that
For they say, dose makes the poison
And what they say, it is true
But for my own safe-keeping
I tucked up a dagger, into my skirts
The sheath bound with lacing
Against my thigh
And so prepared, I met the Beast’s roars
With cool indifference
And offered a trade – my father’s life for my own
The Beast seized his chance
To have a fair maiden; dutiful daughter
Giving up
— the old man instead
That first night, like those not told in stories
Of a maiden’s first ventures into another man’s home
Ending in blood shed, and stained sheets
And tearful sobbing
While the triumphant hero struts proudly
Secured in his manhood, through marital rape
I knew those stories, and thus prepared
My sleeping draughts and dagger sharp
Agreed in fact, to the Beast’s requests
To dine with him that night
And while he supped, and raised his glass
I offered to fix
A morsel upon his plate
With a dash of seasoning, all my own
The dunderish fool agreed,
Of course
And his loud snores soon rattled the castle walls
It was then I seized my chance
And plunged my dagger
— into his throat
Blood, oh the blood,
The sight of glorious blood
Coppery tang filled the air
As it streamed down, spattering
Fine linens and furnishings
The Beast, he lay immobile,
Drugged far beyond awareness
His chest hitched, eyes fluttered
And I watched as he gasped out his last breath
And turning away from my would-be suitor
I made my way back home
For I would never be held
Captive, by any man or beast
*
Carly Zee is a lover of fine things, like fine chocolate and finer erotic. Her work appears scattered around, you can connect with her at https://carlyzee.wordpress.com/
Twisted Sister lit mag 