(¸¸.♥➷♥•*¨)¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED DEMONS (an epic poem of demonic redemption) My wings earthen me. I must take flight to survive the wicked night. The waters. Always loved the waters, cooling to my sinew form, my thickened pelt coats my beastly figure: a glistening evil-gloom of fur. I have caught my reflection there, mourned at its repulsiveness. I look away and act out the atrocity I was meant to be. Golden amber eyes, deep pits of fiendish hell, pools of sickened motives adhere to my glowing, fiery retinas. I prey on human weakness. It taste different every time, depending on their pathetic state of mind. Fangs that could rip through space in a split-second’s bloody descent. You would never know what dismembered you. But there were times I pretended I did not need Human Souls to live. Not all monsters are heartless. There were children I refused to touch, amused with their tiny voices in the dying rays of dusk. How could I snatch a couple holding hands along the shore, reveling in a union Demons only dream about? I know the Oracle of Demons has no good words for me, for all that I let go. My days are numbered. Centuries old have taught me, as humans choose their battles, well, my kind chooses their victims. Mine are getting less and less. The waters. I wash my ugly form, hoping no one has noticed this hideous creature beneath the bridge. Then a scent crosses my flared nostrils, drinking in the human fear, the mortal drone. It’s right above the bridge, as I wait underneath, in the shadows, quiet as a Demon can be. It begins to cry, softly at first. I detect that its utterance is female, and I wait. And I listen. I emerge from the shadows, yet remain hidden, and look up at the object of my attention. A female human, leaning over the bridge, with a wail as deep and longing as I have released to a distant, indifferent moon. A moment passed, perhaps longer. She crawled over the railing, and my senses heightened. I was keenly aware of the immediate peril of her dilemma. It dawned on me that I wouldn’t need to rob this Soul. She was giving it up herself. She was preparing to leap, and I hadn’t long to figure things out. My demonic-mind spun and circled and reeled, then time was up. She tossed herself to the night air, a flailing fragile thing without wings, and I swooped to meet her half-way, before the waters could claim her form, before the fall could break her lifeless shape into a hundred, unrecognizable bones. Her eyes were closed. I saw, in eternity’s flash, a fresh stream of tears still spilling down her pale face in present, seeping sorrow. I laid her across the bank where she would be seen, and recovered, checking her for fragile breath. She would live to know what she had done. I escaped detection, just in time, as a car above came to a grinding halt, to help her. From a distance, I watched another human race to her side, check for pulses that were minimum, but there. I knew the Oracle of Demons would be displeased, and awaited sentencing. Which came quickly, a flash of fire, a thunderous roar to remind me I was never important enough to salvage. Just too evil too die. I burned, but felt not its fury. I thought only of the beautiful thing I had saved with no regret. And for that, hell did not receive me. Something else I cannot explain, a place of light, forgiveness, and no shame. Where ugliness didn’t matter, not mine, nor theirs. I was reminded of couples holding hands along a shore, a union Demons only dream about, and now, for me, was no longer just a Dream. Copyright ♥ Susan Joyner-Stumpf © (¸¸.♥➷♥•*¨)¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) ___________ Hey Author Deborah Brooks Langford...quite different from me, eh? LOL, I channeled a Demon, I think. Mystique Wizzard ~ channelling demons.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 17:18:38 +0000
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