------------------I have seen the dark universe yawning ---------------------------------Where the black planets roll without aim, First he is nothing more than what looks like deer, brown like dead grass with antlers that catch the ebbing sunlight. Purples gather in the shadows of his antlers and the tips of them reflect the sun into fragments of golden light as he turns and runs towards a building that juts out from the soil like a bone, as if the ground of this hallowed place cannot stand to keep the monstrosity of its secrets a moment longer. Had he not been running, had he not drawn her eyes by refracting the light into patterns like a kaleidoscope, she would never have noticed him. The grasses, tall and not yet dead by the chill in the air as the weather starts to turn, would have swallowed him up like a mouse. Her eyes, sharp and edged with scales as dark and blue as the parts of the sea, would have slid right over his body as nothing more than a trick of the terrible, teasing moonlight. It's too late now that she's seen him as she rises from between the cresting waves like a dragon made of sea-foam, salt and teeth sharp enough to make the smile of a shark look like a blunt, rounded string of pearls. She banks her wings and turns. Her figure cuts through the dusk like a star. She could be a ray of moonlight, of sunlight, of that light that glows and shines when the day shifts too slowly and both rocks battle over the spaces between the clouds. Her body too refracts the light, the colors of the setting sun. The purples and pinks seem to bounce from her skin as if they refuse to live on the flesh of something so ghastly, so horrible as she. Only the blue and the reds stay with her. She's a rainbow of sea-color and a red dark and thick enough to be blood. The antlered horse dips into the building and she follows, landing on the grasses instead of the stone steps. Inside he's loud enough, angry enough with the way he rages in against marble and other dead, things that might offer no relief for a rage as dark and deep as the one she can taste on his sweat and shedding antler fur. He smells like hate and she can chew the heavy air in the temple as she drags her wings against the marble threshold when she joins him inside the building that rises like the bones of the earth from the weeds. It's not silence that follow his outburst and the walls seem to her as if they tremble not for his sins against a mere statue. It seems that they tremble like the white sharks tremble before her when she swims around their young and licks the brine from their slick flesh. It's not silence at all that echoes on the wreckage he's made but the whisper of feathers. So quiet a whispering that it might be nothing more than the breeze cooing through the cracks in the stone where ivy has grown into places it never should have dreamed to exist. monster of the sea |
@Lysander
