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Chanteuse narrowed her eyes, flames dancing in her pupils. Despite herself, she was still wet between her legs, wet from her gushy opening, as sweet as it was to taste, and to penetrate, and wet from the rain, wet from two different angles, giving her two types of sensation, Chanteuse raised a finger midair. “Come here, Ķleőpĥǻ!”

Ķleőpĥǻ closed her eyes, and held her breath.

§he’s prettier than me! §he hath it all! §he gets an education when no one else does. I have to sleep with the dismal Σlders to get mine. Ye aren’t the only one sneaking round living a double life within the village, and within the land that bounds the rejects of the village into the bowels of nothingness and disgrace it hath become. §he’s gorgeous, even more than I! §he’s more alluring than I, and classier than I. §he’s unlike the Jezebel I’ve become.

Right then and there Chanteuse set out to destroy Ķleőpĥǻ.

§he vowed it on her life, and on Ķleőpĥǻ’s dead mother’s grave.

I am going to destroy her. And then kill her. Her every thought from that moment was of that, and of doing just that. Σven when she diminished into the confines of rest, holding Ķleőpĥǻ in her arms, in the mud…

Ķleőpĥǻ’s eyes never getting heavy and her thoughts on one thing: Helping Chanteuse get over her lust for her, and being her sister. And watching her live a full, healthy life. Σven if they were forbidden from breathing outside the village. A fate neither was looking forward to, but a reality they lived every single day.Ķleőpĥǻ, after a few long moments of the sounds of the forest filling her ears, finally fell asleep. And then Chanteuse opened her eyes…

And she would get her chance to destroy Ķleőpĥǻ. It was one year later, after they shared their first kiss, and never spake of it again, in any form, on a hot, muggy day shortly after the sun rose and set her rays about the poverty of the Village.

Σxcitedly, Ķleőpĥǻ, barefooted, rushed into Chanteuse’s immaculate room, her face flushed with joy. §he laughed aloud, clasping her hands over her heart, trying to control the rush of breath that escaped her nostrils and her lips.

Chanteuse smiled, genuinely, sitting in the middle of her bed of cotton, applying cow oil and ornaments in her hair.

Her naked body was heavily oiled with the juice of strawberries, and the oil of olives.

Ђe straw and mud of the hut was as hot as the sun, and expensive red fabrics danced from an even hotter breeze flowing through the window of no glass, just a perfectly square opening hidden by garments, so she have her privacy, but what Chanteuse never revealed was that every night a different male with an insatiable appetite came to her window, just as the moon took the highest position in the sky, amongst the clouds, and had his way with her, in exchange for his silence, and to never tell a soul.

Beads of sweat lined Ķleőpĥǻ’s forehead, and dotted the oil of Chanteuse’s amazing body. §weat even lined their breasts, and they stole glances at each other’s bodies before blushing and turning away, the needeth to talk about the kiss a year before on the tip of Chanteuse’s tongue, but all Ķleőpĥǻ could think about was lowering herself between Chanteuse’s legs and giving her something genuine to smile about, as well as empower herself.

A surge of adoration for Ķleőpĥǻ circulating through her lungs, Chanteuse stopped messing around with her gorgeous hair, decorated with cow oil and ornaments of all kinds, micro mini in size, nothing exaggerated or overdone, and took Ķleőpĥǻ’s hands like they were wounded birds from a long flight. And she was going to nurse them back to health and help them find their way back in the sky, so they can soar once more, with confidence in doing so.

A deep love colored Chanteuse’s eyes for the first time, and she didn’t fight it, or put it out of her mind. §he let it manifest, and build within itself, and do what it does, and let it shape her, and let it become her. “If you’re…so hot, Ķleőpĥǻ why don’t ye strip naked and let the truth of the air, and the gentleness of the breeze wash over ye and dry thy body to the state of jubilancy, why do ye think I sit, naked?”

Ķleőpĥǻ pondered her request, falling in love with her all over again as she looked in her eyes and saw the affection there, and it was evident, and she surmised it all in an instant, to never go against anything Chanteuse suggest. At least Chanteuse wanted to spend time with her, considering the other teenagers of the village were simple-minded, and engaging in childish things, and working and slaved in their respective huts, taking orders from parents that couldn’t read or write, but Chanteuse and Ķleőpĥǻ were the only girls in all the land, and the only two teenagers with an education, but they had to keep it hidden and keep it secret, because if the Σlders found out Ķleőpĥǻ and Chanteuse were educated, and living life as an ignorant fool, they will be stoned to death.

Ķleőpĥǻ may have read many books given to her by the villagers, but everyone made sure that nothing got back to the Σlders, and even if it had Chanteuse had a smoking gun, and that was to bring to light the Σlders’ indiscretion with her young body, and turn it all upside down.

But if Chanteuse did that, she would be convicted by association, and convicted because she didn’t remain a virgin till she was married, and marriage was banned in their government-controlled Village.

Pine tree needles bristled from long, thick branches, the branches of tall, towering pine trees all about the hut, and the hut of the neighbors, and of Ķleőpĥǻ’s home with the Italians seven drapes down from hers, drapes that cover the square of the entrance, an entrance made of the mud of the earth.

Ђe leaves of all other classes of trees, of all kinds, were reflections and caricatures of themselves, breathing the air of life through the fall of seasons, on the horizon. Trees will lose their greenish luster and colorful blanket of vibrancy, in exchange for naked tree branches, dead leaves blown away by a coming Zephyr, and change was sure to come on the first day of §pring when new leaves sprout under the lick of sunshine. Fallen leaves a forgotten memory. Until the new ones art recycled again during the approaching fall.

Evolution never ends.

Ђey could hear the rustling of pine needles, and of the leaves of the other classes of trees, in unison, together. Ђe angelic sound of nature’s children, trees, was music to their ears, and soothed and relaxed them. Chanteuse felt some of the hate for Ķleőpĥǻ diminishing, and it’s been months in the making, many moons have come and gone wasting her time hating a girl that didn’t hate her, all because her Mama, Resha, at the time, embarrassed her in front of her friend, a friend she didn’t consider a friend because everyone loved her, and she was envious.

But she was getting older, and wiser, despite giving her body to others. Ђe hatred for Ķleőpĥǻ was turning for the better, and she was starting to appreciate that her sister at heart said she’d love her to the death, and she was almost guilty for plotting Ķleőpĥǻ’s ruin, and was suddenly regretting making the decision, and was going to change her mind about harming her.

§he did have a heart, she was just going through a lot, and dealing with the government’s interference in their lives, and knowing she was going to die in the village a virgin, and can never marry, despite seeing married people kissing amongst the shadows of the forest, but they were married before enslaved in The Village of Opus, nonexistent to the rest of the world, and her reality, that she was going to die without seeing the world, and having the opportunity to inherit the wealth within.

Ђat’s why she gives her body to men at will, since she was forbidden from doing so. If she and all the others art incarcerated to a poor landscape within Chad, then why shouldn’t she continue to live and experience and learn on her terms?

§he may be a prisoner granted very limited freedoms, and those freedoms were very small and far and in-between, but that didn’t mean she had to tell anyone of her indiscretions, and lose her life by stones thrown from every man in the village, even rocks thrown from the ones that defiled her, and deflowered her, and loved her, and made love to her, and in that was the greater irony, and the greater sin, the greater, yet unleavened paradox.

Ђat even in their environment the life of the male meant more than the life of the female, and because of the corruptness of village politics from those left in charge, and granted limited power, use human lives as their form of entertainment, at least two people every 190 rains art stoned to death from being caught doing evil acts of sin under the moonlight, against the policies of the Village of Opus, unforgivable sins that can have everyone in the village of Opus destroyed at a much faster rate than that of a postponed Doomsday, and Day of Σxtermination, wiping out the bloodline of the wealthy and the rich, their outcast, reject descendants, because the blood of other nations were mixed with the luxurious blood of the ancients. It angered Chanteuse that men can take of whom they want, basically whom they chose, married or not.

Ђey were granted Immunity because a few men of the Village slept with the men of the Σlders as well, so the power of the black serpent between their legs truly controlled and governed the village from within its realms and hells, killing anyone threatening to destroy the Veil within the Veil, the Veil’s Veil, by murmuring their activities to the masters they work for, and the government profiting from the investments of wealthy Masters, that kick down a little extra to enter the village at will, and take of any woman they chose, with the exception of the children.

At least she didn’t have to die alone. Ķleőpĥǻ was with her, and was there for her, and sought her out daily just to make sure she was alright, yet Chanteuse spent all this time, and all those years hating a true form of love, and she suddenly felt guilty inside, and didn’t feel quite so good but hid it from her face so she didn’t alarm Ķleőpĥǻ. For the first time in her life, and the first time since letting Ķleőpĥǻ come into her life, she truly smiled. And then, boom, it hit her. Ķleőpĥǻ loves me!

Ђe brightness of her teeth and the sudden sparkles of her eyes, twinkling in a way they never have before, chased away the sinister and unapologetic demons that hath been trying for years to possess them, demonic forces and evil spirits of lust that jumped in and out of the bodies of ignorant villagers, those without knowledge or education, demons released from the gates of Hell by the one that runs it all, the king of them all, the ruthless, limited-in-power beast that didn’t care for any of the villagers, or care about himself, but in love with power, wealth and prestige, and an even sicker needeth for vengeance from being banned from Σternity in the Heavens, high above the peasants of the earth.

Now he lived amongst them. He enjoys using them as puppets to achieve the hidden agenda he executed, and the agendas of the individual demon, for the villagers within their prison before they perish needs to be controlled within the realm of government control already burdening them individually, and together as a village.

At least have some fun with them, planting seeds in their minds through their circumstance and their oppressive status in society. Ђey were written off, and never revealing to them that the satanic hearts of the very government that hath them enslaved and repressed was not only masterminded by the king of darkness, but controlled by him as well through the intimidation of the villager’s Free Will, and their Free Will to band together hath been destroyed, forever. Σvery villager that breathes didn’t have that one key element of survival, self-esteem, but only two possess that key element, and one had an evil heart, and one was filled with joy and thanksgiving, Chanteuse and Ķleőpĥǻ.

Government officials were also Chess pieces restricted to the mysterious Chess board of Life, and the Art of War itself, played by two gods...

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