Long ago the fears of humanity were all-encompassing, one was perpetually terrified of what they did not understand. On a global scale, this created such an overwhelming atmosphere of terror that creatures like me thrived. And while that which is dead cannot die twice, there is no end to the creatures that thrive on life itself.
What people call science is indeed a relatively clever attempt at decoding the secrets of the universe, as primitive a species humans are. My universe, our universe. They’ve learned what keeps them warm, what stops them dying, what satiates their hunger.They’ve learned to kill each other in the most creative ways possible. They’ve made many new gods in their own image and attempted to better themselves by living up to their idols. You can watch lifetimes and bloodlines flitter by, completely enraptured in the awe of what they call ‘the human condition’.
They hold such a lowly existence, there is no meaning to any of their actions. They are so
incomprehensively ignorant that their existence is pitiable. Love and hatred are meaningless to me– what use could they hold? I cannot comprehend something completely irrelevant just as they cannot not understand mine. Though I do admit, on occasion, there is a feeling of loss. For all the peace I feel in my own presence, there is something so tempting about a physical form. A body. At least for a little while.
I do not indulge often. To do so would be to lose myself, if I am a singular being, forever in the madness that is a human life. But it is a short break from the dullness of everlasting existence. The latest was a girl, small, somewhere sylvan before their latest technology. The mother was attached to her, that much was clear. One of the joys in that body was the three-fold effect of broken bones and twisting blood while she screamed painfully in the child’s ear. Fire was pleasant, I do always forget that you understand why humans are so obsessed with it on earth. Underwhelming smell though, the drama of boiling tissue and peeling skin is so enthralling it’s disappointing when you are met with a burned animal smell.
It was adorable when the townspeople tried to stop me, but their pleas held no interest to me. It’s such a dull feeling in comparison, why would someone waste their one life on gentle moments and quietness? I live to experience the fullness of a vessel. Nausea and bitter poison on my tongue – you don’t realise how addictive senses are until you are robbed of them. There were smaller children in the same family if I remember correctly, and there was a warmth in the hugs they gave the vessel, their pleas particularly piercing and delightful. They begged for her life – seriously? They begged for her to ‘come back’. There is no wider explanation of what I am for human children; they could not possibly understand me. But sometimes as the boy-child wailed, I couldn’t help imagine that perhaps he knew that I was there… perhaps somewhere inside him, he knew that there was no human in his body.
WORDS: Fleur Griffin
