Of Cobras & Nymphs

The Flute and the Cobra

The next evening, Tomek lies along the shore, and again hears the song of the lake.

And then, there is the flute music.  Haunting, antiphonal, leaping melodies and mesmerizations over the lake.

There was something distinctly light and 'feminine' about the way this girl plays the flute.  Its lightly floating notes, hanging in the air like dancing wisps.   And broken every now or then by her yodels:

♫ Oooohhh la-la wa-wa....
Oooh la wa weee wa-woooou ♫

Tomek lay on his back in the dark listening to all this.  As the sound of the notes danced in the air, he imagined her naked body dancing and undulating over the lake.  

They say that music soothes the savage beast.  And Indian flautists can even make the serpent, the cobra, rise and stand up, transfixed before it.  

So it is perhaps not surprising that the pet cobra in Tomek's pants noticed her music.   Tomek was a monk, or at least used to be, and late at night, his serpent was coiled and asleep, as it should be.   But listening to those feminine, lilting, dancing notes, and imagining the girl's lips and dancing fingers over her flute, — his own cobra now stirred, it rumbled from it's coil, and lifted it's sleepy head.  Slowly, to the music of the lovely maiden's flute-playing, it began to rise its purplish head, like the trained Cobras of the Indian flautists.  

 'The Nymph Flowers'

One night, as he slept, he had this happen to him:   Was it a dream?  Or not?, — he couldn't be sure.   He heard the 'Singing Nymphs' again, out on the lake.  Saw them, rising from and moving over the lake like white, whispery spirits, coming towards him.  He knew that they were virgins, each and every one.  

But they had sucked many a man off, with their 'nymph-mouths', — their red, oval, succulent 'nymph-flowers'.   Their mouths which were shaped like red Tulip flowers.  They came to him, saw him sleeping there, and unbuckled his pants.  One by one, they knelt and bent down to him, suckling him, so sweet and succulently, taking turns.   Into one of these Nymphs mouths he spilled his seed soul, and she then rose and shared his gift with all her sisters, mouth to mouth.   Dribbling white crème on ghostly white sister spirits.   Then they rose in mass, thankful for the food he'd offered them, and flutter-floated, spirit-like, back out over the lake.  Singing.