Word Count: 401
Her name was Sabia and she had the walk of a poem. Flowing and brimming with quiet life. Each step, like each line, subtle beauty. Each one important as a word. Her young body, hidden within the drifting folds of a burqa, somehow more sensual as a curve, a soft silhouette gliding against the hard blue of the horizon. The gritty gold of the sand.
Ashraf was the son of a prince of the desert. Handsome and tall with curls in his night black hair. Skin the color of tea. He had his choice of the women after ridding himself of the ten year-old bride he’d been promised when he was sixteen.
“She was a whore,” he had later laughed. She had laughed too, at him he felt, and he had silenced her with a cupful of acid thrown directly into her face. Her family left the village in shame. He ruined many more girls in his bed after that, tasting but unsatisfied in love until now.
He fell easily in love with Sabia. With the lute of her voice as they talked for hours in her garden. The scent that came not from the flowering jasmine but from the air around her. The graceful way she moved her hands as she strummed words. She had come to the village to stay with a cousin’s cousin of her mother’s. A marriage was quickly arranged.
The oldest widow in the village confirmed her virginity. Secretly instructed to ensure she was as beautiful as Ashraf imagined as well. Sabia submitted to all that was asked of her. The widow herself was kind. The wedding was a great celebration, for Ashraf’s family was large and he had many friends.
Sabia looked around the bedchamber. She had never been in a house so lush with carpeting of bright colors. Polished teak tables and chairs. Pale blue silk canopied curtains surrounded the bed. She slowly removed her clothing. Put on a modest white gown. Blew out the lamps except for one. Drew the curtains, pulled loose her thick long black hair. She lay back on the pillows, her heart beating so loud to her ears. The fingers of one hand lightly ran over the ruins of her face. The other clutched the dagger she held close to her body under the sheets.
She waited, breathing quick in anticipation, for her new husband to come in.
Ah – lovely surprise – I’d expected a sister, but glad Sabia took responsibility for herself, revenge would be the sweeter.
This one needs the ending ironed out a bit smoother.