The Mist
The mist surrounds me, like a blanket over my eyes. It disguises the world around me, but covers it with a singular, whole beauty. I look around me, searching for something, anything, but all there is, is mist. The beautiful, full mist. It is neither perfect, nor full of error. It is nature at it’s best, but most hazardous.
My enemies are there, in amongst it, but this fact seems to escape me. This is my native land. I know it more than I know myself. They are chasing me, but I sense their presence, and it does not frighten me. They are lost in this land, and I am found.
The mist covers all that surrounds me; it is part of everything present now. I look at those that follow me, but they do not look back. This is my terrain, and is my world.
I can sense their every move. I can hear their heartbeat and smell their very essence, and yet they still persist in hunting me. I am their prey, and they are the predator, and yet this is all just a game to them. To me, it is more than that, it is my life, and it is my survival.
They search for me, but I have found them first. They are simply footsteps away, and yet they do not notice me, as I slip away from underneath their very eyes. It is them who are my prey, and I their predator, but I feel no need to hunt them, like they hunt me.
I am one of them, and yet we are separate. We see the world in different ways, and live different lives. They see only destruction and death, where I see a chance for life, and I am one with it.
I slip away, amongst the mists. She is my friend, and will guide me, where she tricks others. I am of the night, part of it’s life force is in me, and I am at peace with it. I am the she panther. No man shall tame me, I am free.
My first thought after reading Cherie's poem was:
"What the Hell is this?"
Followed by
"WTF am I going to do with this???"
I have to note here that I absolutely adore Cherie, and there is nothing that I wouldn't do for her - including coming up with a couple of pages for this. She is a fantastic writer and a good friend. So I looked at it and got to work.
Instead of trying to map out my creative process, I'm just going to let the work speak for itself:
The mist surrounds me, like a blanket over my eyes. It disguises the world around me, but covers it with a singular, whole beauty. I look around me, searching for something, anything, but all there is, is mist. The beautiful, full mist. It is neither perfect, nor full of error. It is nature at it’s best, but most hazardous.
My enemies are there, in amongst it, but this fact seems to escape me. This is my native land. I know it more than I know myself. They are chasing me, but I sense their presence, and it does not frighten me. They are lost in this land, and I am found.
The mist covers all that surrounds me; it is part of everything present now. I look at those that follow me, but they do not look back. This is my terrain, and is my world.
I can sense their every move. I can hear their heartbeat and smell their very essence, and yet they still persist in hunting me. I am their prey, and they are the predator, and yet this is all just a game to them. To me, it is more than that, it is my life, and it is my survival.
They search for me, but I have found them first. They are simply footsteps away, and yet they do not notice me, as I slip away from underneath their very eyes. It is them who are my prey, and I their predator, but I feel no need to hunt them, like they hunt me.
I am one of them, and yet we are separate. We see the world in different ways, and live different lives. They see only destruction and death, where I see a chance for life, and I am one with it.
I slip away, amongst the mists. She is my friend, and will guide me, where she tricks others. I am of the night, part of it’s life force is in me, and I am at peace with it. I am the she panther. No man shall tame me, I am free.
This story appeared in the anthology, Eleventh Hour Vol. 1, published by Markosia in 2008.
