The Beauty's Skin

My mother was the most alluring woman in the world.

Just one look at her soft, pale hands was enough to leave my father utterly bewitched.

Father and I both loved helping Mother wash her hands.

We'd soak them in goat's milk and rub them with scented balm.

Day after day, we never grew tired of it.

Until one day,

I discovered what those hands did best.

It wasn't embroidery, nor practicing calligraphy.

It was

skinning people alive.