The Making Of Orgiastic Cyprian is an episodic fiction by Oppong Clifford Benjamin which focuses on educating its readers on the sacredness of sex and how the pleasurable act can be a divine form of prayer between a creature and his creator. The story centres on a mysterious sect of young women between the ages of seventeen and thirty called The Ancient Aphrodisiac Cult (The AAC). The cult is strictly invented out of the creativity of the writer. However, some settings in the story are real.
We hope you enjoy this episode as well as the others to come.
When Miss Juan was certain the little girl, Hamamat Montia, was dead in a ceremony meant to awaken her (Hamamat) soul to a new life, she exclaimed aloud “Curse! Curse!!”, her voice vibrated the air and caused a sudden terror across the assemblage. The echoes of her voice were long and horrifying. And she cast her two hands helplessly in the immediate atmosphere and soggily dropped those by her side in three rummy sequences emitting a long cry “I’m doomed. Oh! Great Mother, Mercy I pray thee.”
The humid air carried her cry before her while she ran through the long corridors of the temple with the hope that she would make the south exit. But like she had expected, the metallic doors were slammed against her face denying her exit. She veered to watch the north and west gates close with same violence as that of the south. Knowing what was next to happen, she broke into dreadful tears.
Loiuselle also wept. Among the frightened qadeshes and the innocently terrified men gathered therein, she was the only one who knew Miss Juan was in so much trouble. As if she foresaw the calamity a week earlier, she had asked Miss Juan the consequences of the rare incidence of having a candidate die in a ceremony, and for the first time, Louiselle heard the baneful side of the cult. She managed to convince herself into believing Miss Juan told lies to scare her away. But when she saw her agitated in the darkness and cursing the space in tears, Loiuselle knew Miss Juan’s words a week ago were just true.
Finding all escape cut off, Miss Juan went down on her two knees, lifted her two hands high above her head, threw her head backwards such that the sexually explicit contrived roof looked down at her face and she gently closed her eyes, without much pressure on the palpebra. And whispered into the ambience “It is finished; swallow me, grand spirit of Ishtar. I am a complete failure worthy of thy punishment.”
From nowhere, a swift wind surrounded Miss Juan only. However, she neither opened her eyes nor blinked. She seemed to be fully aware of the happenings around her and she was the least bothered. The wind harshly removed the tiny yellow cincture which wrapped around the waist of every Most Perfect Chiliad. It was called the mystic yoke of the AAC. It was first worn by Hamamat Haruna Hamza- the first Most Perfect Chiliad and it was transferred to generations unpolluted. During the installation of a new Most Perfect Chiliad, the mystic yoke is passed on to the incoming Chiliad in a magical traditional drama; the outgoing one suspends in the air horizontally above the incoming Most Perfect Chiliad and a strong whirlwind takes the yellow cloth off the waist of the outgoing and wraps it perfectly around that of the incoming one. And the body of the outgoing Most Perfect Chiliad disappears with the wind and reappears in her hometown, exactly where she had been first invited to the Ancient Aphrodisiac cult. And thereafter becomes either a top religious or political leader in her country of birth.
But this wasn’t the case of Miss Juan; her sovereignty as the Most Perfect Chiliad had come to an unsuccessful completion. It had rather come to an opprobrious halt, curtailed by a disastrous misfortune.
A dead body in the temple was at the first place considered unclean, and secondly, a dead candidate in a ceremony was an unacceptable mistake punishable by a harsh death of the Most Perfect Chiliad, a death so cold and yet so gradual.
As Miss Juan knelt in the north of the hall awaiting her fate, the two black cobras formicated out of Hamamat’s lifeless vagina onto the cold floor and meandered in the direction of Miss Juan. Abruptly, the wind vanished in the same way it had appeared, leaving the yellow piece of cloth to fall under gravity from a height above the head of Louiselle.
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