Carlota Moreno Villar

Act I. Whilst in a dream, the devil approached me. He spoke the language of persuasion, and whispered poems of damning elation. His skin in disguise was recast as a suit of satin scales. He had olive pits that had me hypnotized, and lips that tasted like opium. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a soothing demeanor, and under the pretext of ambrosial intentions lured me into his trap. Locked in a intimate tango, the lunar rhythm marked the transition. Inebriated in his sway I felt my consciousness disintegrate. When I, the helpless varmint, awoke, the morning was rough. Unbeknownst to me I had performed a sinful dance. A perverse purpose loomed in his mischievous smile,   and venom dripped from his fangs where pearls should have shone. Oh, I should have known, I should have run! but he knew all the tricks to be played with my mind. A gentle hiss, a sweet shriek, and we made a pact. He must have thought: ...