Image: House of Blues, New Orleans   Published, 2016

 Image: House of Blues, New Orleans

Published, 2016


I enter into a sultry building filled to the brim with men and women, all different demographics and origins. What brings them together, you ask? The answer is the night, and it has long kept a promise. Tonight, there is one goal they want to achieve. I can smell what they seek in the air. Its scent is one of many fragrances. A dominating aroma, one that my elders riveted in centuries before my birth. This aroma is almost as old as time itself.

Yes, in the times one can’t fathom to understand, did the irresistible aroma empower tribes, kingdoms, and nations in its strong scent. The spices enthralled every generation; warriors clanked their blades, and the women danced in the rain, enjoying the enticing chill of a single droplet. Whether they wore cloth, robe, jewelry, or armor, the aroma took them. It is surely an intoxicating scent; it fills you with a dangerous thrill like you are driving at 200 miles on a 55-mile speed limit.

My brothers and sisters want to obtain this thrill, this McGuffin. Though they are in heat, they do not want to procreate. They say, “I do not have time for love tonight.” The sun has set, and now they relinquish all control of their inhibitors. They cheer with the coming of the moon’s luminescent light. Intertwining to the rhythmic beats, they repeatedly perform an action. The lyrics of the song seem to supply the aroma’s potency. I can sense its alluring nature attempt to pull me in; it wants me.

It speaks to me. “Come here and partake in the variety. Tonight you are amongst kings. Live like royalty, take what you will, and sample the delicacies, as your ancestors once did.”

I hear my brothers’ chants. Each one is high off our instinctive human nature, the feral side effect of this aroma. Each one searches, vigilantly, for a courtesan. Some may already have a queen at their castle, but tonight she is out of town. My brothers begin their mating signs. They flex their power by showing their wealth, strengths, and intellect. All this is done under the influence of a simple, but a highly influential bottle. My brothers’ display of, well, manliness captivates the women of man. It is not enough to sell them, but their presentations entice them.

I fight the hypnotic spell that the aroma plays on its victims. As a man of faith, a God-fearer, I am no longer tied to the physical plane, though I am a part of it. However, the cravings may arise from the black etchings in my heart. The savory smell of the aroma, the unquenchable thirst I know that I will not be able to fill. I know this because I have tried, countless upon countless of times. Divine text from the Hebrews, the powerful of all text, aids me to remember who it is I serve. I am a man of faith, and through my faith; I serve the almighty King of All Kings, the Almighty God. So, I hammer down on my urges, I strike with a diamond crafted tool, pummeling every fraction of darkness inside me. It will not take me tonight, nor will its ally.

At the end of the night, I do not succumb to a tradition taught to me by my forbearers. Ever since the fall, I have seen countless victims suffer from the aroma. The most powerful hex it casts on my brothers and sisters is that it makes them reject moral ethics and law.