“Wild women die in captivity.”
“Ciguapas aren’t women, Dust. Ever met a chick who could knock a man out with her voice? Or who had feet pointing in the same direction as her ass?”
Dustin watched the ciguapa, the woman, sitting by the waterfall grooming her hair. “We can’t cage her. She won’t survive.”
“She’ll live long enough. We can’t be blamed if she dies after we get paid.” He smirked before aiming the dart rifle at her hip.
“No!” Dustin smacked the rifle as the other man pulled the trigger.
His dart missed.
But her song got them both.
the wee notes…
– I grew up in a small village, in the Dominican Republic, listening to stories about ciguapas, mythological beings of Dominican and Puerto Rican folklore. According to my Grandmother, ciguapas were extremely fast, had a jet-black mane that went all the way down to their feet (which pointed backwards), and every single one of them was female… For this reason, most legends say, they enthralled human males (for a day or 3 of passionate love-making) in order to keep their species going.
– written for Friday Fictioneers, where Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, invites us to use a photo (the 2nd in this post) as inspiration for a story of 100 words or fewer. To read more waterfall-inspired tales, follow this link.
Ciguapa, by Felix Esteban Rosario
photo by Dale Rogerson