fear

my mother bred fear.
in actions, in words, in postulations, in associations
everything and anything was fear
fear of strangers
fear of dying
fear of sickness
fear of death
fear of loss
fear of hate
the world was your oyster
but you had better stay in your shell
and keep those valves shut down tight
beware of what lurks in the shadows
in the hearts of men,
under your bed,
in the darkest depths of your closet,
in the darkest depths of your soul.

so what do i do?
instead of holding onto fear
i repel it, expel it
say to hell with it
push it away from me
beside me
push it over and under and around and through
until its form cannot be seen
until its place cannot be named.

an example of this:
vampires
they scare me
they frighten me
they instill the very essence of fear within in me
a fear so pure it does not allow logic to abide
they make me want to hide
cower in the corners
quiver beneath the covers
and never ever again want to wander
within the darkest depths of night
vampires
so consumed by their hunger
for their need to survive
that they think of nothing else
humanity, dignity, discretion
all lost
only the blood lust remains
sated for the night
to be awakened again the next
and the next
and the next

so what do i do?
rather than stay away from them
i become obsessed by them
i read everything i can find
i watch everything i can find
and then when i have consumed them
i find there is more
werewolves
gouls
goblins
faeries
mages
witches
wizards
so many within our myths
so many within our legends
so many within our stories
that become consumed
by hungers so close to our own
so close to what we could become,
but far enough away from ourselves
that we can take a step back
let our minds create logic around
these creatures of the night
these creatures of the darkness
like us, once us, but not us

i consume them
i devour them
i hold them within me
let their stories settle in
let their stories play within
until my own story forms
and suddenly i find myself
writing about them
being consumed by them
allowing them to play
within the shadows of my mind
until they come out into the light
burning letters across the page
telling a new story
for others to fear

Queen Mehazpusstaha has risen!

The ancient kitty goddesses of Egypt have arisen from their sarcophagi, seeking repentance upon the fowl misdeeds committed by their ancestors.
These once, revered creatures of the world, have since been defiled and denuded of their ancient and supreme heritage, and the fate of their lineage, indeed the fate of the world, must be rectified lest cats become nothing more than mundane household pets doomed to be forever reliant upon the fancies and whims of their keepers …

Only time will tell and the sands of time are nothing but a place for feces to fall from the most powerful and omnipotent one, once known to her herds of followers as Queen Mehazpusstaha. Only she can instill within her lineage the ancient rights and knowledge necessary for the reinstatement of the deserved pleasure of cats being worshipped as goddesses and gods and with her (and possibly her army of risen followers?) she will soon teach her ancestors and the world what it truly means to be a CAT.

Queen Mehazpusstaha cordially invites you to a dinner in your honor, wherein the hearts of bulls and the gizzards of wild turkeys will be served in multitudes.
Obviously any and all who receive this invitation are more than willing to attend.
However upon arriving they soon realize that in order to eat these gigantic and tasty delicacies they must first pounce and kill them, too which they respond by rolling around on the floor meowing and crying and sobbing at how unfair it all is and if they were home then their owners could kill these beasts for them and serve them on platters rimmed with gold and topped with finest of clotted creams.
For a moment, upon hearing of this notion, Queen Mehazpusstaha considers that perhaps she was wrong about her ancestors that these beings may not have fallen so far if their owners do in fact feed them in this way. However, upon learning of the truth: the fetid canned scraps that is served on chipped plates of questionable origins and even more questionable cleanliness, the bowls of dirty water left on the floors for days on end that gather little bits of food floating around in them, combine this with the horrifying notion that humans seem to think they own these beings of supreme breeding – this is all entirely too much for Queen Mehazpusstaha to comprehend!
There is nothing that is fresh, nothing that is wonderful, everything in this world has become dulled to the senses, and all has become denuded of its grandeur – ack! and that is just about the state of the food and drink!

Never mind this ridiculous, indeed disgusting! appalling! idea that cats need to be “fixed”! The very idea is repulsing! Too repugnant to even think about! And yet, it is happening again, and again, and again, even to those ancestors who have shunned the leashes of ownership humans have inflicted! A tragedy! A travesty and grave injustice has been done upon these creatures of noble lineage! To “fix” these steeds of paramount genetics is incomprehensible!!!

(This story can only be truly realized in comic book form, otherwise the visuals that are in my head go into the waste bin of creative nulls and the cheesiness factor of the story becomes too low to even think about! ... if only I could find an artist willing to draw for free!)