A Spite of Venom

Two lovers blinded by the four letter foul word they completely defined just for one another were making love. As they kissed and cuddled a stray spirit filled with jealousy cast a spell on them hoping to break them apart. As his eyes looked through the wooden walls past the many trees and the flora in the thick of the jungle he silently muttered a curse that would slowly, tantalizingly rip their hearts out and then as they lost their spirit, their imperviousness he would seep through one and kill the other. As the chant reached its apex, the dark magic worked its art and the wood caught fire. To the passerby who would never come, it would be just another forest fire probably caused by a stray spark or a lit cigarette butt. Such was their passion, such was their love that even after the darkest of desires had unleashed their wrath, it could not kill their faith, hurt their bond. As the fire raged on, and the flames danced with the ecstasy of their makers venture it was as if, they were alive again. As the overheated segments of wood not burnt yet started joining in the festival, the depths of the inferno wrapped around each other as if embracing the sacred soul. The Dybbuk was still not satisfied. He wanted to break them away so as to gain control of one, to re enter the world of the live and he wouldn’t have that. He released a poison so strong that if anyone would even scent it, he would die within the split second. This he injected into the beloveds soul so that now they could be not be near, the close proximity of the intense tenderness had to die. But the lovers will was strong. He would not have it this way. They would be together no matter how. As he left her hand so that he may live to come back, he took an oath to never stay far. At this the angels smiled and he was blessed with smoke. As it unfurled around the winding tone he took flight and came back an eagle, an eagle of smoke. Now she was the spite of venom, the snake. As the eagle swung low and flew right around it, the beloved engaged in a dance of trance. Apparently the angels weren’t strong enough and the Dybbuk had control again. He took over the adored, his darling and prepared to attack as he turned around to come cuddle. The eagle of smoke took flight the fire snake poised to attack. For a second he saw her, deep inside controlled, bound and he could contain himself no more. As he got close, before the venom could be spat, before he could be bitten, he wrapped his feet around her and touched the peak of the sky. As he flew hard, hoping to throw it out, the Dybbuk, now inside the snake fought and fought. There was a certain drop in the wind and the eagle being light swayed. The venom oozing from the sinister y of the snake got close enough. It hissed and stung. Now hapless, at the mercy of its dying carrier, the Dybbuk realized what he had done. He had inhabited a soul only to die again. As the bird struggled for breath her hold faltered and the killer fell into the crevasses below. As the night ended all that remained of the three was ash. The bird had died on venom, the reptile of its fall and the Dybbuk of its own hastiness and disrespect of love and attachment.