It's a calm Saturday morning. The sunlight streaks in through the vulnerable windows, as though streaks of enlightenment through dull eyes. The cold bites at those who venture to experience the hostile environment laying outside my man-made paradise. The grass glistens in imperfect perfection as birds dance across its frosty floor.
I shrink further into the blanket, gripping tighter onto the pages of my book. I want to escape from my surroundings; the mundane environment around me is too much to handle. I NEED to escape. The pages offer a haven, their sheet oozing with delight. They beckon me in. They drip with style. I can hear the crystal glass clinking against each other. I can hear the false laughter of the women, made up to the height of fashion, putting on their highest show of falseness. I can hear the money in their voices, each mocking their company. They offer the delight of fiction: drama, romance, heart break, intrigue. The colours blind me; the lives fascinate me. All I want is to forget: forget and surrender into the story that lays between my hands. A world of materialistic rivalry. A world where the highest tension is being transport away from reality but to the issue of status: Modern or Family wealth? The status of violence or corruption? The status of husband and adulterer or lost love and hero? I am about to surrender to the 1920's. The music drowns me. I am in the novel... and then... then I am brought suddenly and heartbreakingly back to my mundane existence.
I glance down at the root of my disturbance. The wolf gazes back up at me. It's sharp, razor teeth cut into the naked flesh of my foot. Its dark eyes bore holes into my existence. They hold so many opinion but show nothingness. The black fur that surrounds the owner falls in waves around the pair of craters. It creates the falsity of a loving and adorable friend, but i am not fooled. I see the beast for what it is.
Yet i can't move. I am petrified to the spot. I cannot retract my foot. No, it is more I will not retract my foot. I no longer appear to have control over myself. Has the beast master me? Did i stare to long into those black holes and become nothing more than a spirit with held in a natural prison? The stronger part of my matter takes control. I shan't become prisoner. I yell out to the beast, taking control. I wont surrender. I wont give in. I am the master of my own existence.
I wrap my feet under the protection of my woolen shield. I close the book, marking off all escape. But i never take my eyes off the two windows to the abyss.
The beast can tell its end is near. It bows its head for a moment, letting out a quick whimper. Slowly, its head returns to my eye level. The windows have warmed. They are now majestic, ebony disks shouting personality. The mouth opens and the rubescent tongue falls playful to the side. A cheeky expression falls on capturer's face and i fall prisoner to myself. A smile slides itself half way across my face. The cheeky expression then changes to one of smugness.
The beast raises its head to the artificial moon commanding above him. It looks out mockingly at me. Its electric commands can be heard by all, and I am left alone with the beast. Slowly, the beast's eyes return to me. On its face i can tell it has understood its commander's orders. I cannot remove my eyes and instead drown in my own fear. The eyes change to that of pride. The beast pounces.
The satanic monster that led to the inspiration of this blog: the dreaded 8 month German Shepard *shudders*
No comments:
Post a Comment