Monday, January 06, 2014

Lord of Myself: Part 1 The Rat-Thing

The rat-thing hunched and bent in the darkness as black as its skin, its soul. It screamed and spit whilst ravaging the rock and occasional ponds of mud. Searching and searching, crying and searching, and in a moment of pure frustration the rat-thing shouted, "my precious!"
Out of breath, shaking with exhaustion and self-loathing, the rat-thing remembered its relationship with its precious. The precious was closest to its heart, whispers in the night, a shining jewel that outshone the sun. With the precious the rat-thing forgot about all others, but was also forgotten. "They never loved me, not like my precious," it wimpered whilst idly scratching rock. It had fought for the precious, being around friends and family only reminded the rat-thing of what it had given up and what it was like to not be loved completely. Being with the precious was an insurmountable shield between the rat-thing and its failures and loneliness. "I need the precious, the precious and I need to be together." But the precious had fallen away. "Someone took my precious, a thief!" It was so clear now, the precious and rat-thing have an immutable and eternal relationship, it was a thief that has caused all this pain. But there was no thief to be found, and the precious had not returned.
*     *     *
The rat-thing lay many mornings talking as though the precious was still there, but only loss filled the air. No more whispers in the night, no more shine greater than the sun. The rat-thing was alone. It had forgotten friends and family, hidden from an unloving sun in a place meant only for two, but the rat-thing was just one. It thought of friends and family and how they hid from him as he from they. But they didn't love him like the precious! They offered him familial and Platonic relationships and he wasn't strong enough to appreciate.
But the precious loved the rat-thing! Yes, and the rat-thing loved the precious. And yes, the precious left the rat-thing, too. When the rat-thing was born it had its parents, and after its family it had friends, and after friends it had the precious, so after the precious it has the darkness. The final gift of the precious was finding the rat-thing for the rat-thing; practicing for the loneliness of death is finding the strength to truly live.



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