Beauty
By Karen Kalbacher“I am the most beautiful woman, ever born.”
She stood tall before them, slender, well muscled. Her skin clung like a tight sheath to every ounce of her. Fat had been eliminated by perfection of diet and her hair, long glossy and pale as moonlight hung in a perfectly straight curtain. The crowd of men before her ‘oohed' at her features, the classic combination of delicate and strong. Wide blue eyes, twice as large as a normal woman shone the purest sapphire. They ‘ahhed' at her milk chocolate coloring, and the fresh perky mounds of her visible womanhood. She had no flaws.
“Is it not true that I am perfect? Best among all women?”
Her voice lilted like an angel and sunlight made her glow. The men were in awe of her. They stared and stared. In their heads they pictured themselves with her. They pictured themselves pawing at her beautiful breasts and hair. Her children would be as beautiful as she and that meant their children would be perfect. Heat filled the air. They panted as one. They saw her as theirs alone as one. “Yes,” the men purred, “you are perfect.”
She basked in their warmth, in their heat. Knowing she was desirable to them made her feel blessed. Reaching a hand down to one man from the tall pedestal she was perched on, she meant only to graze his cheek in thanks. The man caught her hand. “She chooses me!” he screamed. He held her hand tighter, pulling at her.
“No!” the crowd shouted in unison, “She chooses me!”
And the most perfect woman in the world's eyes lit up in fear. She couldn't free herself. The pedestal was high and slippery. She fell like an angel to earth. Her hair went first as tufts were torn out by the roots. Her screams were like the peals of bells as she fell under the hands of men. Her blood was like roses and coated them all in a thick fresh scent. Even the silencing of her screams was beautiful. Like a church had happened on the spot, every man walked away. And left behind a perfect, no, the perfect, no the most beautiful corpse in the world.
End.