Never Fall in Love with a Succubus

My mother always told me, “Never fall in love with a succubus.” Of course, I never listened. Why should I have? They’re the most gorgeous people know to humanity. One look and your eyes burn the memory of their flowing locks, flawless skin, and sparkling eyes into your brain. Forever. It’s not something you can ignore, trust me. Once it’s there, nothing compares. Not the smile of a child, a double rainbow on a summer’s day, or even a sunset over a beach.

The only thing that can amaze you in the same way is to gaze upon another. In my case, the same one. I kept away from their neighborhood by force, not choice. A twenty foot wall will do that. When they’re allowed the one day a week to travel outside of their sanctioned area, they must shroud their faces. That way, no one “normal” is affected. The whispers of what might happen range from insanity to violent fits. That’s all talk if you ask me.

It was a freak accident, really. A dropped bag of groceries, a swift gust of wind and the shroud fluttered right off. I had gone to help. When everyone else shrunk into the doorways of the stores that line the street, I ran to lend a hand. One glance and I was hooked. If there was a way for me to get another peak, I had to take it. No matter how dangerous. I took to our rooftop with a pair of binoculars in hopes I could spy from a distanced. I climbed trees to peer into the block behind the wall. I made sure to be available to help at market the day they came to shop. Simply put, it became an addiction.

No surprise what happened next. On market day, when the succubi flooded the streets, I shrouded myself and returned within the compound when they were ordered back. As soon as my covering was off, everyone would know I was surely not one of them. So, I was careful to keep my wrap held tight. I recognized the shimmering shroud of my love in an instant. The fabric an equally as striking emerald silk. I knew the rejection would be short-lived given my meager looks. But for another fix, another brief look upon a beauty crafted by angels, I would chance it. Standing side-by-side, our shrouds were removed when the call arose throughout the neighborhood by megaphone.

All I wanted was for us to belong to each other. A favorable response was unlikely. Thankfully, I knew I could handle rejection. I could deal with a “No” no matter how kind or harsh. But as our eyes met, something changed. I began to realize my mother had been right. The twisted smiles of hunger stretched far beyond the face of my love. Baring hundreds of sharp, pearly teeth. How had I not seen that before? How had I been blind to the terror behind their masks? With the walls twenty feet high, and the gates locked shut, I was trapped as the succubi descended upon me.

My mother was right. She’s always right. I only wish I had listened.