Marian was pretty. Her features, forehead, cheekbones, chin and chestnut hair were perfect but her khaki eyes were spectacular, sparkly, smokey, two sky reflectors. Her nose was interesting, not big or wide but something. So when she finally gathered enough money to have it done (looking at influencers most nights long), she emerged after a month of staying indoors like a painting of the sun. You couldn't avert your eyes. Seeing was wanting, and wanting was a desperation no one could explain. Certainly not men. Women judged themselves then on a very long and graduated scale and instinctly knew where they stood. What they lusted after was just to be near and spotted.

And so it was just a matter of time before the inevitable. Faramarz lived two houses down. He first heard of Marian through his sisters and imagined some kind of narcissistic monster, not so much as needing to be avoided but just nothing of interest. He was the smartest student. His memorization prowess was noticed young and hushed his bullies who looked at him after a famous recitation as someone useful. Not physically attractive, he had plenty of bullies all the way to adolescence. This changed of course as his parents' wealth brought him plenty of respect. But the hint of inadequacy never left him be.

One eventful evening changed all parties involved in this true story. And it happened at a party. Faramarz didn't even want to go. He had just started on a particularly juicy fiction by an author whose life paralleled his, except through ruse and manipulation he always got the girls. With these anecdotes in the back of his mind he stepped into the party well on the way. Meaning every one was already on their forth strong drink. There was some kind of heated debate going on and out of that cloud walked Marian straight towards him. She was flustered. Totally not seeing him she bumped into him hard. He would have fallen backward if she hadn't caught his wrist with some force too. She didn't apologize and kept on her internal mission. As if struck by thunder, Faramarz seeked her the whole night and only managed to get close enough to see her first in the arms of Hooshang, then some blond Slavic looking boy. Later in bed the scene ran through his head in auto repeat. There is nothing as effective as a furtive glance to burn a bright image in the back of your psyche like a negative that you only see as positive in your dream. Yes, he was done for. Couldn't finish his book. Couldn't eat, sleep properly. He was rash with his sisters, rude to his fellow students. The only soothing activity that took his mind away was the gym, which after a long period of chasing Marian and not getting anywhere, began to built him up to an impressive stature. The illegal steroids did their pumps too. The more time went by the angrier he got. He was just invisible to her. Plenty of other girls began noticing him and not just for his car and clothes. He got his virginity sorted out but could not get rid of his obsessive thoughts. These were strongest when he was at his weakest. They morphed from possessiveness to a burning hatred. Finally the thought came to him that as long as she lived, he'd be miserable. Just the jealousy alone was enough to choke him at night to a boyish sob of unworthiness.

He worked at his plan for a long time. Going through every possible scenario, all the snafu that might pop up, random events, people interfering. When he had enough of the mental agony of following every path of the temporal maze, he said fuck it, i'm going for it. He didn't know what happened next but he didn't care. Her downfall was his only care. He followed her for few days at a distance and jotted down times and places. On a date that he liked because of the jaggedness of its threes, he ambushed her in the alley. Nothing went wrong. Her fear he drank like wine, took her nails and bites without even noticing the cuts (that he would later exaggerate to himself). The rape was done. The aftermath was a bit of a let down. Was that all that there was? When he looked at her like that, dirtied and torn, he felt nothing. He pushed her away and backed off.

Marian stayed down. She looked up to the sky that danced in her tears, then to the brick wall. And noticed a man jerking off behind a window. More than one window. She turned on her stomach and gathered herself up. Unsteadily she walked all the way to the police station to report the crime. The inspector took it all down in a room with clay walls painted green half way. Her senses were ablaze and all the details came pouring in. The fly on the fluorescent tube twitching with every spasm of the current, the smell of armpits and sweat, the way his eyes darted up and down her like a laser scanner. She knew then and there that nothing will come off of this.

She left the physical world. There was nothing there to hold on to. Music even was useless, as important as it used to be. Love was a dirty word now, a transaction between a fruitseller and a hungry teen who couldn't afford. She hated God. Where was he? She? The fucker didn't exist. That was plain to see. But what about the opposite? Demons sure seemed to exist. Maybe there she could find refuge. She threw herself to the occult. Read everything. Tried every spell. Noted what worked, collected ancient texts. She was driven. She too wanted revenge. She had a feeling the end result would be catastrophic. But she was desperate. She needed help, no one came to her defense. What choice did she have? None.

The stage was set. The pentagram in her blood. The various creatures, toad, raven, rat, scorpion, snake, sacrificed and blended in the cartoon cauldron. The candles in every star, the Aramaic text in salt in the perimeter. She sat naked and the smoke lapped at her curves and continued them upward where they joined in a point whiter than her skin even, and yet dark in shadow. She hummed the text as she swayed in a trance. Hours passed. She had given up. Yet, was that a tap? Was that a new blob in the middle? Yes, there was something there. It grew so gradually that she doubted her eyes. It finally stood towering over her. Orangy red, she thought. Classic shape, horns, hoofs, lots of hair. Ugly. She recoiled. What had she done?


Jam26