Once upon a time there was an Imp King and The Goddess. She at once was drawn to his mischievous glance and his devilish horns. He was drawn to her free-spirited sunlight. But what he loved most of all, was her laugh. And oh, how he danced. And oh, how he joked, forever looking for her laugh.
One could almost say that her laugh was the source of his magic. And so long as she laughed, he could sing and dance and his magic would flow with abundance.
Slowly, their warm likeness turned into hot flame. And they ravished each other. Loved each other. Devoured each other. Never had the world seen so much laughter.
But alas, all good things must end for it is the way of it.
One joke went too far.
***
The imp only wanted to hear his Goddess laugh.
The earth broke in two. Darkness fell. Evils of the world came forth, and the demons rent the Goddess. The imp looked on in horror. Reaching for her, desperate to save her, but the imp was just an imp. He wielded laughter, not swords. And he could not save his Goddess.
As they devoured her, the imp watched and it twisted his mind, warped it into insanity, and buried the joyous imp king for all time.
The Goddess had a different story.
Beneath her pain, Goddess took in all the world. She saw all of time at once and past, present, and future became one. And in that moment, she knew what she must do.
For she had seen the end, and she had seen all the players.
“Seeds,” she muttered. A tear spilled from her eye. “I’ll plant the seeds,” she said.
A grunt, and a yank on her body. The Goddess ignored the blood between her legs.
I’ll have to go back.
Another grunt and a rip. A new streak of lightning through her groin.
All the way back, she thought. To the beginning. And I’ll have to be sure I can find him again, my beautiful Imp. My king. I’ll leave a crumb trail through my mind. And tools. You’ll need all the tools and skills you could get. You need them where you’re going.
She then selected psychology, philosophy, and fantasy. She’ll need imagination. So much.
The demon grunted, released a squeal and the Goddess closed her eyes against the pain as his claws dug into her hips.
And intuition. A passion for the Spanish language. Delicate man. And brown eyes. Yes. I’ll need to know those brown eyes. He would be quiet and gentle. She would need that where I’m sending me. He sings and dances and tells jokes. That only she will get. That’s how she’ll know he’s the one. Laughter is their secret love language. He’ll be humble and silly and playful. She’ll need that play to remember laughter.
Because, Imp, when you see me, you won’t know me. But I, my dearest love, will know you.
I’m coming for you, my King.