FLASH FICTION: Slay Queen

SLAY QUEEN

The night she lost her soul, she’d stood at the riverbank by 3 A.M, naked from head to toe, blood flowing from in between her thighs and trickling down her legs. She called out to the mother of all mothers, she cried her heart out and requested that she be imparted with power. Power so deliciously lethal that she would rule the hearts of men and lead them to their destruction just as they’d destroyed her beyond repair.

” Mother! Behold your daughter! The offspring of your loins has been dealt a cruel blow. My body has been defiled, the humane part of me has been exiled and what is left of my heart has been taken over by black rage and hate. Not one, two, or three, but eight of them forcefully had their way with me! Ah! Mother, I was reduced to a s3x object by those heartless and beastly creatures called men! Heed my call mother, give me the power to avenge my disgrace. They cannot go scot free, no! Let me be the one to lead them astray and to their graves. I will destroy them all! I will make them beg for mercy at my feet. Make me queen mother…take away this great pain and sorrow I feel, this is my plea.”

The mother of all mother’s herself had emerged from the depths of the water in all her majesty-her beauty exceeding that which has ever been seen on earth-and touched her forehead. “Angela my child, your cry has come to my ears. Dear loved one, wipe your tears, your wish will be granted. Henceforth, men shall see you and the lust of their eyes will transport them to the land of the dead.  Go, my daughter, from this night onward I crown you queen of the hearts of men, slayer of them all! Unleash terror to those who let the thing between their legs be their brain. Go! Child, beautiful angel of darkness! Go! Go!”

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******

She woke to the sounds of the birds chirping outside her window. How the hell had she gotten to her room? She sat up and scrutinized herself thoroughly.There was no sign of blood between her legs and she didn’t feel the terrible dull ache anymore. How come? She was surprised to see that she had been dressed in a black net-like see-through gown,all the contours of her body clearly outlined. She tried to cast her mind back to the events of the night before, and realisation hit her; the goddess of the river had really heard her cry and answered. A pleasing new sensation spread through her body; she could feel the power.

She walked towards the standing mirror by the wall and admired her new self. Her hair had been transformed into gold-coloured floor length million braids, her face made-up like a Victoria’s Secret model, the gown left nothing to the imagination, and the shoes were what you can only find in fashion magazines.
“I am not the same helpless person anymore. I am a queen, a slay queen. Thank you mother…”

Instinctively, she knew just the prefect thing to do. She walked towards her bed and picked up the brand new iPhone 8 placed directly beside the pillow. “Wow… how many more surprises does mother have for me?” She walked back to the mirror,  quickly logged in to her Instagram account and posed for a selfie in the most provocative manner. What she saw pleased her, so she captioned it “I slay..” then posted the picture and logged out.

******

 

30 minutes later. . .

Angela logged in to her Instagram and smiled as she saw 900 likes and 200 comments on her picture. She read the first five comments:

“Baby you look so hot, can you be mine?”

 

“Damn girl… you so s3xy! Can I have your contact?”

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“Oshey! See curves mehn…nice ass. Can I take you out?”

 

“I love you beautiful, you’re like a goddess. Look at all those goodies”

 

“Oya na, hot mama! Kill us finish with all them curves, slay queen!”

She would start her mission with the fifth commente. If only he knew up coct he was. “I’m a slay queen, and you’re the first on my slay list…”

She smiled wickedly, then it escalated to laughter-the type that only witches and those who derive pleasure from evil can perfect, the type you really do not want to hear in your room…when you’re alone…or asleep in your dreams…

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Writer Irene Ibiwāri-Íkíríkó Talks About Losses, Writing and What She Can't Be Caught Doing