The moonlight ran through her delicate skin. It was her silver dress that seemed to captivate all the men who once doubted the identity of that beautiful woman. It shone before the eyes of the most skeptical, it made them believe that the new life was near and that death was the perfect path to salvation. She looked beautiful, it looked like a living spell, but among her desires was the intention to drag them all to perdition.
"Hold my hand," he told them, the cold winter nights, the hot summer nights. "Hold my hand, son of God, that you will know the pleasures that your Lord forbade you". Men, hypnotized by their beauty, are lost in the thicket of darkness. They also lost himself in her beautiful hair, her warm hands, her penetrating gaze. They were taken to the depths of the forest, believing that they will know a paradise that is no more than a false heaven made by demons. However, they knew nothing else, and nothing less than suffering. She never wanted to be sculpted by a demon. Sculpted with the stone that fell from the moon the night that seemed like a nightmare.
