That little ghost went about her way, mistin’ and slopin’ along the land like she had a dozen eyes watchin’ her. Such a pretty thing to be gettin’ lost in the likes of such a strange land… but her act had only begun. As she danced across the icy swells with them taped legs swingin’ wide, I could see just how her audience would receive her. She’d sing ‘n sway to some distant melody, keeping in time with the notes and calculatin’ each step until the song’s end. Then she’d whistle at ‘er audience real smooth and soft and bat those long lashes at ‘em to signal the end of ‘er act. They’d be clappin’ and cheering like they didn’t have a damn clue what hit ‘em. Then she’d smile that awful dirty smile and bow at ‘em real slow-like, hopin’ for a silver coin or shiny trinket to remember ‘em by. They might praise her or ask ‘er for an encore but without payment that little mare would laugh ‘n take their name along with ‘er as she left. She’d store it away so deep until the day she came to collect… devil of a creature she was.

Solanine was a gypsy of sorts, movin’ from place to place in search of new adventures. She was made for the spotlight and knew that’s where she’d always belong. But her antics came at a price ‘n she’d never let ya forget it. A silver coin for a smile or a gold ring for a dance- everythin’ was a profit to ‘er. Each new spectator got a real good taste ‘o her wicked charm ‘cause she’d greet ‘em with that signature smile ‘n delicious hum. ”Welcome to the show…” she’d sing, ‘n they’d stick about long enough just to find out what she meant. Such a trickster she was…

But if her audience didn’t like what she had to sell or refused ‘er kindness, that little fairy’d find a way to make ‘em pay. Nah, she wouldn’t exact ‘er revenge right then ‘n there though. She’d wait like the devil she was for the perfect time, the perfect moment to slip ‘em a remedy made ‘o venom. “Friends…” she’d tell ‘em before slippin’ that pretty noose ‘round they neck. No one was ever saved from ‘er jest, but sometimes she’d take a likin’ to one or another and she’d treasure ‘em like she would a doll. They’d become her light ‘n joy and she’d follow ‘em ‘round like a small child does its mother. As if they’d somehow hung the damn moon ‘n stars, she’d cherish their ideas and their decisions… at least until they made the wrong one. Then the little mare would turn that taped-up face from ‘em and move on. No second guessin’ to it.

However, if that little temptress ever laid eye on some shiny trinket or bauble, there was no stoppin’ ‘er. She’d tail that thing to the ends of the earth in order to have it. But she’d never outright fight for nothin’, she’d just slip it out from beneath ya nose like you never even knew ya had it in the first place. If by some chance ya figured ‘er out, she’d find another way… She’d make a profit off ya if she wanted. There was no doubt about that, no doubt about that...

When that little child ‘o the night slipped into “the strange land”, she took straight to perchin’ out in the open with that taped face ‘o hers pointed down at her knees. The snow came fallin’ down upon that midnight coat, dottin’ it in ice and silver like somethin’ she’d wear in one ‘o her shows. They’d find ‘er like that, the audience, and she’d find a way to weasel ‘er way into their midst and make haste on ‘er very first payment in Helovia.

Solanine

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