I wandered near the river as I gazed upon the sunset, hearkening to whispers as if my soul were bidding farewell.
When the heavens had nigh succumbed to darkness, there I lingered still… seated, pondering what the sky might mean, stripped bare of all the tales it imparts.
Then, of a sudden, a sound stirred the silence.
At my side appeared a young man, pale as death itself—I questioned not his pallor, for in that moment, he was as ghostly white as I— Yet the difference lay in my pores still quivered, drinking in each chill breeze…
I awoke in the night, musing how many more nights must pass ere the mirage of the heavens fades?
That eve, I resolved to venture forth. As I adorned myself, combing my long, crimson tresses, I thought—once, in another age, they would have burned me, ha! 🧛🏻♀️
Descending in the elevator—though I could have chosen a more…shadowed path, I never cared for drawing eyes deliberately—a couple joined me on the next floor.
A suspended space, neither above nor below, neither heaven nor hell.
Such vile thoughts the man carried—can human malice be so base that even I cannot grow accustomed to its stench?—The woman, meanwhile, her mind was a blank void, as if her soul harbored a secret of slavery.
As the elevator grazed the first floor, he glanced at me, feigning gallantry as if to let me pass. Ignoring him, I yielded to the young woman—oh, I recall those early years when instinct near consumed me.
That night, I chose to trail them..
…Central Park? I mused inwardly. Far too trite a stage for such a scene.
Paused by the lake, his mind seethed with thoughts of possession over her. —No human steps echoed; only the stir of beasts reached my ears.—She desired naught of him—his thoughts, so clear to me, deemed her worthless, so enslaved was he to his own base urges that he thought her nullified. I savored my instinct, snuffing out those final musings—
I glided past, as if merely strolling the opposite way, and purred, “Спокойной ночи, дорогие.”
The man blanched, terror draining him pale—oh, that primal panic that rouses any instinctive creature!
He tried to speak, but only the clumsy echo of dying dominance rattled in his throat— I always mark it when these sheep, cloaked as wolves, falter before the stark reminder of their instincts, that they face no prey they can devour: pupils dilated, voice fractured, and oh, the heart near expiring in its agony…
The girl fled, her thoughts a clamor in my ears—was she an angel?
Oh, darling, the last time I gazed upon the light was ages past.
There I stood once more, weighing the acts of mortal minds… so vast, yet so fleeting… 🥀
The irony smolders quietly, dear reader, when one lacks the merest shred of common sense…
I plumb the depths of their minds:
Why a man bound to instinct, and not a woman?
Oh, women too may be tethered to their primal urges, yet with the ripening of years, they often transcend… Men, however, ever skirt the edge of desire first—as if time teaches one and lays bare the other.
Most oft, a man chooses to think with the baser head to prove his manhood.
But I cast the question back:
Is supremacy truly proven from their animal state?
To prove such a notion, one must first know it—such action bound to thought.
Therein lies my answer.
Let the beasts roam, dear reader, chasing the fleeting pulse of their own delusions.
They bare their teeth, mistaking ravenous hunger for true dominion, blind to the truth that some predators need not howl—they lurk in silence, patient, eternal.
For in the end, instinct kneels not to brute dominance but to the sharp edge of awareness…
And those who grovel beneath the moon’s pale gaze seldom discern the divide, while others need no moon to embody it. Some fangs pierce for mere survival, others by deliberate choice🍷😏
And I, dear reader, have long since chosen. 🩸
Bye now! 💋
