[P] Violence Is Not Normal, It Is Taught

[Emersyn]

The Devil With Green Eyes

Kelpies are expert anglers; hook, line, and sinker.  From stranger, to lover, then to killer, all within the blink of an eye.  As quick as a lightning strike a Kelpie will take you.  No matter the manner, no matter the cost.  If she wants you, she will have you.  There is no such thing as ‘choice’ once she has decided.  Strangely, the victim feels the same way.  I would die for Lucinda but she will not die for me - her beauty makes me okay with this absurd arrangement.

There is magic about the way Lucinda lulls my battered spirit.  Later, when I wash up post-storm in some brackish pond water, I won’t remember how hungry she made me feel as a woman who wanted her.  I will remember the fizzing gray chaos of the moment when she decided that she would have me.  Not as a dinner, but as a dark horse.  Something inside of me must have seemed intriguing enough.  Strange, I never could imagine anything about me being desirable in the slightest.  


I am gambling without knowing my odds, what are the chances that I survive this attack?  Lucinda’s frightfully powerful in ways I’ve never experienced,  ‘supernatural’ is the only thing I can call a strength like that.  Her teeth are ferocious, painful, tearing.  The shape of her is feral, and to me, alarmingly beautiful. It takes my breath away,


Wait, no.


All the air leaves me when I succumb to the pressure of the depths.  Bubbles cascade around me, from within me, I would fight her, if I did not think that this was what she meant when Lucinda said she could help me, that she could heal me.  Or, perhaps that is what lies and murder means, something I am no stranger to - yet the moment feels far more transformative than my gospels tonight.


I am drowning.  Quite possibly dying.


I don’t know what the difference is.


Blood blooms from somewhere, is it my blood (is it blood?) - or is it my soul leaking out of all my cracks? I cannot tell.  My world is tilted, I am staring up instead of looking down. I can feel my heart and it hurts from beating so hard, so fast.  I must be scared - but I am not acting afraid.  Why am I not afraid?  Am I to live or die?  How does drowning heal me?



Dying is easy but drowning is not.  What happens, then, when you drown and do not die?  What happens next?  Do you fall into a deep and watery, blue coma?  Does everything go black and cold like space?  Or, do you experience a metamorphosis?  If so, what reality is expropriated - what replaces it?  The answers to these thoughts are as vast as the deep blue sea.  Every life lives differently - when it dies (or changes) , the same principle applies.  My life has never been anything but a prison sentence, up until this moment - I have never felt more free.



Metamorphosis, what does it mean to me?  Not much.  I am a soldier.  Something hollow, but strong, and terribly cold like ice.  I am dense, not porous, and it is difficult to hurt someone who has already felt and dealt their fair share of pain.  My story is like so many others, but my truth has less in following.  Lucinda doesn’t need to know my story to taste it in my blood, in my flesh, and even in my bones.  Even I know that I taste acidic and bitter, poisonous.  She doesn’t seem to mind - when her teeth sink into my skin all the air leaves my lungs.  I have a choice - to clench down with empty lungs and struggle until I can no longer - or I can breathe in.

I take a deep breath.

Everything goes black.

@Lucinda    We can end this when you'd like!  Cause I'll definitely be throwing another thread at Lu. Let me know if I need to add anything! (Sorry it is so long-winded)