At Delphi they tore the bull limb from limb. Steaming gore slicked their naked flesh. They guzzled its blood like cheap wine fortifying their hearts and loins.
As they whirled and leapt around the fire, flames painted their glistening skin, and flickered in their obsidian eyes. Arms raised to the skies, they sent forth cries of ecstasy: entreaties to Dionysus to take possession of their bodies and souls.
Three days later, these would-be maenads are back to scrubbing their husbands’ robes in the river. For some, the blood beneath their fingernails is enough, while others become distant memories, never seen again.