We sat down beside the river together, the Storyteller and I. \u00a0I tucked my legs beneath my long skirts, splayed sideways in the juicy grass, my head propped in my palm as I watched him. \u00a0The Storyteller took a flask from his patchwork jacket and a tiny stringed instrument from his pocket.<\/p>\n
He smiled a silly crooked smile at me, took a sip from the flask before handing it to me, and held the instrument up to his ear. \u00a0His grin widened as his fingers tickled a tune. \u00a0I giggled at the sound; it was like the banter of fairies, or a field of daisies gossiping through their petals.<\/p>\n
“Long ago, when the world was still being made,” the Storyteller said.<\/p>\n
My head swam as if I’d drained his flask of its mead, though I hadn’t yet touched it. \u00a0As if by another’s prompting, I lifted the flask to my lips and let it hover there, just touching my moist skin. \u00a0My eyes were locked on the Storyteller.<\/p>\n
“In those days, a beautiful angel maiden stood queen over the subjects of the world, who were not yet so divisive as to form clans and countries.” \u00a0The Storyteller coaxed another riff out of his instrument, this one with a hint of malice running beneath. \u00a0The flask bumped against my teeth and I gulped at the sweet, heavy liquid that hit my tongue. \u00a0"But there was a shadow in the heart of the lord of the warriors. \u00a0With each passing day his malice grew and twisted his features, until he was no more human than the serpent. \u00a0He was the first demon.“<\/p>\n
I could barely keep my eyes open, my chin bobbing towards my chest. \u00a0The Storyteller’s face was an indecipherable blur.<\/p>\n
"Then came the wars.”<\/p>\n
I tumbled forward into his vision, my whole head filled with the frantic music of the tiny instrument. \u00a0The black sky roared with columns and balls of fire, dodged by beings of light. \u00a0A crescendo of wild drumbeats brought the image to a standstill, and as if from a distance I heard the Storyteller: “There was only one way to reconcile. \u00a0A child must be born, produced of the light and the darkness, and given reign over the world. \u00a0His struggle would be internal, eternal, but he would unravel the war.<\/p>\n
"But the child must be made.”<\/p>\n
I was lying on a grassy hill, facing the blue, cloudless sky. \u00a0I raised my hands and saw that they were glowing from an internal illumination. \u00a0Something rough and sinewy slid between my legs and I raised my head to see a scaly, demonic face gazing at me with a horrific mixture of adoration and loathing. \u00a0A long, snake-like tongue slithered out of its mouth and lifted my luminous skirts with surprising strength.<\/p>\n
I was bared, exposed, my head still swimming. \u00a0I stared up at the sky. \u00a0The creature’s tongue dove inside of me, somehow unbearably rough and heartbreakingly satisfying as it flicked in and out. \u00a0I felt myself grow wetter; my hands moved to my nipples and I toyed with myself.<\/p>\n
At last, the creature brought its legs up and forward and hovered over me as if waiting for a signal. \u00a0I lifted my head again and met its eyes. \u00a0I thought I would be consumed by the ancient fires there.<\/p>\n
From far away came the sounds of four tiny strings, plucking out a melody that was as old as the world.<\/p>\n
The demon plunged into me. \u00a0I shrieked, the sound rising visibly from me like steam. \u00a0I clenched the leathered buttocks in both hands, forcing him to work for every thrust, holding him in until my back arched and my lips parted and my breath escaped in rattles. \u00a0Then I drained him of his semen, hotter than flame, coursing through my entire being until I knew: our child was conceived. The human race would be born.<\/p>\n
Slowly, the vision faded. \u00a0I was staring languorously at the Storyteller, who gazed back at me with intent but knowing eyes.<\/p>\n
“And that, my love, is how we all came to be.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We sat down beside the river together, the Storyteller and I. \u00a0I tucked my legs beneath my long skirts, splayed sideways in the juicy grass, my head propped in my palm as I watched him. \u00a0The Storyteller took a flask from his patchwork jacket and a tiny stringed instrument from his pocket. He smiled a … <\/p>\n