In another reality...Every little girl has her own monster. Made of colourful darkness, of bright shadows, like the sun without light or a rainbow caged in mist. A beast of nightmares eating nightmares. It grows in her heart and life like a splatter of ink, seeing the world through her eyes. It is made of what she knows of the world, of what she fears. It gives her power over it.by
I was no exception. I had my monster. My familiar.
A storm's brewing in the sky...
Tears gave it birth upon a december's night. It swirled from the shadows and the howling wind. Fur of snowflakes melting in the liquid and viscid blackness of its bluish scales. My soul called for it
A tad less madPowerless speechless faceless nameless helpless hopeless friendless useless thoughtless voiceless ruthless tasteless witless defenceless meaningless priceless, I feel...
I'm lost in a world that is not mine.
Wake upYou can't run. You can't hide.
Because you've given them the key.
They're friends. They're family.
They're laughing at you like enemies do.
You can't run, you can't hide, you can cry.
Against them you're nothing.
You have no power, over anyone, over the slightest thing.
Taste the bitterness of betrayal.
There's nothing for you, they open everything to your enemies, they're letting them in into your sacrosanct sanctuary. And you can't hurt them. Feeble body, useless mind.
You can't fight.
You can't run. You can't hide.
You must wake up.
Oh yes ! You know you're dreaming but not like usual. There you are suffering and it m
He knewThere's no conjecture in a child's mind.
Children find answers in things that are.
And thus he knew that if his mother had run away it was because of him.
Because he was not strong enough to prevent her from suffering.
So he vowed to become stronger. He would grow into a fine man, able to protect and care for.
He would love his mother unlike his unknown father and he would provide for her.
Because he was a five-years-old brave boy and « maybe » was not a tangible possibility.