She told me stories that kept me begging for more.
Scary stories with ghostly sirens dressed in white, who walked in the dead
of the night, luring unsuspecting men to certain doom.
These sirens’ footprints appeared in reverse, confirming their origins from
the perverse netherworlds.
I don’t know what I fell in love with…with her or with her stories.
I asked her to marry me.
I was ten.
She was nineteen.
I’ve always gone for older women.
The age difference didn’t really matter, as long as she kept those ghost
I wasn’t her type.
I placed forth an irresistible deal, an offer so enticing that no woman in
her right mind could refuse.
I’d give her my favorite cap if she agreed to the marriage. It was the one
with the blue superman logo on it that I had won in the local fair a few
She laughed, but then realized my seriousness by the manner in which I
presented my offer.
She took the cap and said that she’d have to think about it.
I gave her a week, no more.
Otherwise I’d take my cap back.
I was serious about this too.
In that week, she told me many more stories -scarier ones, ones with bigger
monsters and grislier endings.
I think she liked me.
It was the happiest week of my life.
Also it was the week where I was scared shitless.
I fell deeper in love.
She returned to her home at the end of the week.
Years later I met her again.
Only this time I was nineteen, she was not.
Married and with a year old kid, but still as beautiful as before, if not
Age had not diminished anything of her.
She approached and placed her year old on my lap.
I held it gingerly, not knowing when it would pee or puke on me.
(For such was the nature of one year olds)
She said she still had my cap.
And the kid played with it sometimes.