"Do not wear perfume. Do not wash your hair," her mother said.

"But, Mother, I'm on my way to a wedding. My wedding. How can I not wash my hair, perfume my cheeks?" She couldn't believe her mother's words.

"Your groom will understand. He wants his bride alive," her mother answered.

But the girl was vain. Vain and ignorant of the darkness living on the bright sands.

She washed her hair and perfumed her cheeks.

And there was no wedding, at least not this time.

The groom would find another bride, the bride would find no one. She's now just a pile of bones, so broken and bleach, you would think she's sand.

Aigamuxa,

African mythological beings,  human-looking but with eyes on thei...

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