Preface: So my friend and I set up a project called "Quick Prompt Challenge"; he draws me something and I must make a story/prose/poetry based on it. During the quality of paper and drawing resource haven't met the requirements, for a while I'll use courtesy photos from net. I hope I could upload own copyright photos or his drawings soon! Enjoy!

Wine.


My Ma used to tell me women were bad things. Except her, I should not put women on top of my priority.
Women are beast, she said, as the primordial instinct has put them to be.
Lioness will rumble against their males after mating season. Black widows have tiny merit to let their male wander off.
And praying mantis... Female praying mantis eat their mate. Mother Nature had taught me to keep the distance.

And yet Mother Nature didn’t teach me how.


It was cloudy day on winter, thirty first of January, Ma left the house and wandered into endless dark tunnel. I wouldn’t forget that: a fracas between Pop and Ma echoed inside my cochlea, frantical household throwing (my chandelier burnt badly into the fireplace),
and a demon
sat beside me, a fourteen years old bloke inside an aged wardrobe, while smoking a cigarette and laughed at my misfortune.
An eerie feeling of women reciting; not even Ma escaping with her affair.

What are you thinking about, Cher?

A lady in sleek black dress snapped me out.
She looked slightly older, a cigarrete between her fingers. Her cheeks are thin and blushed. Straightly combed hair hanging about thirty centimetres above her collarbones. Her dark, her dark hazel eyes reminded me of Ma: warmth fulfilling yet intimidating.

Nothing, I retorted.
She tilted her head in plausible way to say Is it so?
I ignored and poured a bottle of wine into two glasses.
I love wine, I said.
Older, the merrier. She replied. Have you tried white wine? The fermented light taste will sedate you into enormous amount of dopamine.
No, never. I shook.
This, this is my first wine. I added.
Oh.

Silence.

You haven’t told me your story, Lady. I rested my chin on my fists.
Nothing to be told. She grinned.
I’ll be ashamed for becoming a man if I did not know what’s a story of a morning glory.
Alright, alright, she grimaced, exposing her beautiful white teeth. But I beg your trust to not think badly of me, would you, Cher?
I tilted my head and smirked, Damn lady you will be the end of me so why would I.
You think so? She smoked.
As amusing as your dress, it’s a yes.

Damn.
Why would I become so stupid of this lady.
No, it’s natural, right? I pleased my inner thought.

Well, it’s all started by my first wine. She recited. And a man in a fancy suit. She added.
From then she learned how to love. How to kiss like a saint and tease like a devil. How to dress properly and act like a lady. How to be every men's weakness.

It went only for a night and he never coming back. She sighed, a ghastly fog covered her hazel eyes. Since then I went to several flings as I travel the world and kept doing the same.
What’s the same? I asked, subconsciously leaned my body forward. I could see her shining through the wine looking glass.
The wine I first had.

The same, she inhaled, exchanging name with all these men for a night.
Ah.
She extinguished her cigar. You don’t mind, Cher?
Why would I,
My heart shivered
Be ever think badly of you
A vortex of memories fading in
Darling, you are a lady I’ve been looking for
It screamed, my heart screamed
Let me be your keeper.

Caress of a Venus, she was a menkiller, a femme fatale. She was an early bird to rise, demeaning the hunters to not ever see her and if they would, they were the luckiest human being on earth. You would travel the world within a night, between the sheets there laid Paris and Stutgard, Los Angeles and Pnomh Penh, Maldives and Raja Ampat. From a fancy dinner in top of Baghdad to coup d’etat witness inn on Bogota. She was a galaxy when you kissed her hair, a stardust and supernova.

She was a lady I fell in love with. For the first time in twenty nine years, I broke my promise.

Before the morning arise, her right arm embraced me. She stiffed her head on my back.

What are you going after this, she whispered.
I don’t know, you?
Leaving.
To Sicily? I joked.
No, to the Cape of Good Hope. She giggled. Her laugh was a clear breeze around my necktape.
I'll drive you home.
No.
Why? Afraid Pentagon would come after me?

You’re not going anywhere.

Sudden stutter coming.
Bb... But why... I already promised you I won’t leave
You won’t leave, she said. Whisper has become thinner, almost invisible.

But I do.
..
..
That, Sir, that’s all I can say why I have a trauma for women.
I exhaled. The psychiatrist fixed his crooked glasses. I could see him rose his brows.
It’s not strange considering you have a switchblade almost finish your neck, Sir. He said. Also to be added, she stole your wallet.
I found breathing became difficult. My lips stoned.
No, Sir.
He nodded and exchanged a questioning look.
It’s more than it.
Yes?
It’s more than a titanium switchblade slashed my throat at five in the morning or a stolen wallet. It’s more than a lady tricked me into her game or a twenty days of bedrid.
It’s more than it, Sir.
He inhaled. Then what is it, Mister?

Ladies are killers, young Man. She smoked and blew the fog into a sliced limb. Watch your step or you will fall. Fall in, then fall out. Repeating the cycle. God knows why.
She took her purse and turned her heels in front of the door. Watching as I carefully called for 911.
That, young Man,
Is what I’m trying to say to my son about twenty years ago.