In dreams, the hero spares the female from drowning in darkness. Yet from darker corners, a viper will slither into view, his golden eyes cutting through the blackened distance and stoking a fire in her blood. If the moon glistens like a white pool in the sky, a prince will light a candle for his lady. While maturing from a child to a woman, I’d still understood this. Caught in the midst of slumber, the natures of good and evil are separate, the dividing line a shield against immoral magic. But what price is she willing to pay? * It’s harmless to choose the hero. And while one will caress a female’s cheek, the other will thrust and strike her heart. In nightmares, the villain rasps against her mouth, “Stop me.” While one is a refuge from sin, the other is a curse to the body. Yet in darker hours, the enemy will twist those sighs into fractured moans, the noises slick on her tongue. If the midnight hour is kind, a noble will draw sighs from a virgin’s lips. As I grew a little older, I’d also grown to believe this. Swept into fantasies under the cover of night, the differences become warnings, the sum of cautionary tales urging you to behold and beware. But it’s forbidden to desire the villain. But which choice will she make? * It’s forgivable to desire the hero. And while one longs to take her hand, the other wants to unravel her mind. In nightmares, the villain hisses in her ear, “Fight me.” While one vies for her affection, the other demands her courage. Yet on darker nights, a serpent will emerge from the depths, a reclusive monster who lurks beneath a rippling surface, his voice penetrating the marrow of her bones. If the stars come out, a knight will rescue a maiden, protect her virtue, and bow for a kiss. Submerged within the space between dreams and nightmares, the division is as clear as water.
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