There is one point in the drawn-out hours of your existence where you start to wonder whether elevation has anything to do with the natural order of things. Think about it. See, if you were an angel, like good Ol' Michael here, you'd start to wonder why you remained in the Paradise that some liked to call Heaven, untouched, unscatched; whole. On the other hand, if you happened to possess the identity of one Mab, Queen of the Fairies, then your soul would possess something mischievious with an other-wordly, ethereal quality, for your lofty perch would be at the crown of the tallest trees. And of course, there is the Devil, the fallen angel Lucifer, located in the dark recesses of the Underworld; Hell, with the only emotions being taint, evil, and hatred.
Unfortunately, reading this, you're probably one of the human race, the most complicated of all elevations. Your emotions, your dark side and your light side, your yin and yang energies, are always at war with eachother. Your somewhat animalistic natures insist that you fend for yourself and forget about everyone else, and yet the softer side, the side that points you out as God's own children, refuses to see such injustice done to another. Contradictions. Do you save yourself, or do you make the sacrifice?
And therein lies the crux of the matter. As you are the more turbulent group of beings confined to this world, what you hold in esteem, what you feel, or how you see things is never simple. The question arises once more. Would you succumb to the dark tempations, the bloodlust, or just the plain lust? Or would you, having a tiny sliver of that impossible, holy light, put others before yourself and consequences be damned? Which essence is going to break the faulty balance?
In these imaginings, you'd most likely start to realize why no one person has yet to clear out any and all confusion. Nobody saves all the lonely people. You're all alone as a group and individually, despite your many efforts to obtain some form of guidance. You're weak-willed, strong minded. So human, so flawed. And in being such, you possess the fear that the answers you seek will never be given.
***
"Night consumes light and all I dread ."
You don't know how you ended up here. Your eyes glance around warily, your breathing harsh, abrupt, your body trembling. The sun is fast sinking, though peering around you through tired eyes, you base that on the dim light filtering through the transitioning leaves and branches of the trees. You must get out of here, find shelter or cover before they find you and subject you to a fiery death. You are witch, or so they say, though at the moment, you're mainly just terrified for your life. You bring yourself to a shaky stand.
By the time you had even a fraction of your composure regained, you hear shouts in the distance. Your head whips around, and you gasp. The adrenaline in you grows stronger as the flickering of the torches burn brighter. Indecision and uncertainty eats at you. Do you wait for their approach and plead for their favor? Or would you, with your newfound strength that your terror provides, hold your ground, fend off and attack anyone with a hostile purpose? Maybe neither suits you. Maybe, just maybe, you'd sacrifice your pride and make a run for it. Preserve life and possibly regain your dignity later.
The angry band of villagers are ever nearer now, and your mind is not yet made. Three choices lay before you, yet you, at the very crossroads of your life, cannot see the definite answer.
Suddenly, a hand clamps around your mouth and an arm snakes around your waist, imprisoning you effectively. You stiffen, your body becoming rigid with stark terror. Was this your end? Did your hesitance of the options at hand doom you to a tragic demise? Your life moves in pictures at blurring speeds, signaling that indeed, your existence is about to end.
Then your captor speaks, their lips brushing your ear in a suprisingly sensual caress. "Be quiet, and you shall live. Entrust your life to me." You shiver in anticipation and weaken, knowing that you have nothing at all to lose. The being takes that as a sign of assent and quickly draws you within the darkest shadows, their upper limbs tightening around you with a deadly purpose. Had you made a mistake?
The ever-nearing torches flicker out in a blink. Your relief is imminent, and you breath a small sigh of gratitude. The prison that is your captor's arms releases you and spins you around, grabbing your hand to hold in theirs. You flinch back instinctively even as they pull you along, their footsteps eerily silent, yours suspiciously muffled. Just what have you entangled yourself in? The minutes grow longer.
Finally, your companion halts. You turn to regard them, and your breath comes out in a rush. A beam of moonlight has fallen across their face, and you can only think in that moment that they are hauntingly beautiful. Smooth, pale skin, lush hair, red lips, and dark eyes. Who were they? What were they?
"I am your savior, your brother, your mother, your sister, your father, your friend, and your lover," you hear them reply, as if they had heard your imaginings. Even as your mind registered that it's impossible, they pull you to them, aligning your body to theirs, arms coming around in an embrace that was now reverent and gentle.
"Thank you for trusting me," they murmur in your ear. You shudder in response, and then you feel a piercing pain, followed by pleasure, at the hollow of your throat. Emotions well up. What were they?
Elation, exuberence, excitement, esctasy.
***
Ballad of the Mute · Wed Oct 21, 2009 @ 04:04am · 1 Comments |