Everything about her was a lie. From the clothing she wore to conceal her true nature, to her painted on face; there was nothing about her that was real. She walked among people without anyone realising that she was not one of them. Had they seen her for what she really was, they would have run in horror.
Once, she was human. Born into a family that did not care, her childhood stolen by abusers and bullies. Laughed at, ostracised, ignored, pushed to the outside of civilisation her humanity had slowly slipped away. She was the discarded remains of a human being, used up by a society that took everything from her and gave nothing in return. By the time the darkness found her, there was so little left of the hopeful child she had once been, that she embraced it with open arms and open legs.
In the darkness, she found acceptance, kindness, love. Its icy touch was as welcoming to her as the warmth she had once craved. It cared, it desired her; it took pity on her; they were the same. She held it, drew it close, took it into her arms, felt it on her lips. She welcomed it into her body. She made love to the dark with what little life was left in her and surrendered to its loving embrace.
In its arms, she found the acceptance and love she had always craved. It was always with her, always nearby, hidden in the shadows by day and in the murk of the night. And, as she committed herself to it, the darkness grew within her, creeping through her body it took her: her loins, her thighs, her belly, her calves, her chest, her arms. It spread until her entire body had been consumed by it.
She was happy to be one with the dark. Every day, every night, they spent their time together. No words were spoken, no promises made, but she knew the darkness would never leave her, never tire of her, never desire another. The darkness was hers and hers alone. She was the concubine of the shade, the willing partner of the gloom.
She hid what she was from the world. Had people seen her red eyes and her featureless face, they would have screamed in terror. Covering herself with clothes that obscured the absence beneath, glasses that covered her eyes, makeup that covered her face, she remained invisible.
But she will not have to hide forever. Her belly is swollen and undulating with the children that grow inside her. Soon she will give birth, her progeny spewing forth from her body to spread over the world that treated her so badly. The world rejected her, but the darkness did not. Once the world is covered by its love, a new civilisation will rise. A new society that will embrace her once more.
Once, she was human. Born into a family that did not care, her childhood stolen by abusers and bullies. Laughed at, ostracised, ignored, pushed to the outside of civilisation her humanity had slowly slipped away. She was the discarded remains of a human being, used up by a society that took everything from her and gave nothing in return. By the time the darkness found her, there was so little left of the hopeful child she had once been, that she embraced it with open arms and open legs.
In the darkness, she found acceptance, kindness, love. Its icy touch was as welcoming to her as the warmth she had once craved. It cared, it desired her; it took pity on her; they were the same. She held it, drew it close, took it into her arms, felt it on her lips. She welcomed it into her body. She made love to the dark with what little life was left in her and surrendered to its loving embrace.
In its arms, she found the acceptance and love she had always craved. It was always with her, always nearby, hidden in the shadows by day and in the murk of the night. And, as she committed herself to it, the darkness grew within her, creeping through her body it took her: her loins, her thighs, her belly, her calves, her chest, her arms. It spread until her entire body had been consumed by it.
She was happy to be one with the dark. Every day, every night, they spent their time together. No words were spoken, no promises made, but she knew the darkness would never leave her, never tire of her, never desire another. The darkness was hers and hers alone. She was the concubine of the shade, the willing partner of the gloom.
She hid what she was from the world. Had people seen her red eyes and her featureless face, they would have screamed in terror. Covering herself with clothes that obscured the absence beneath, glasses that covered her eyes, makeup that covered her face, she remained invisible.
But she will not have to hide forever. Her belly is swollen and undulating with the children that grow inside her. Soon she will give birth, her progeny spewing forth from her body to spread over the world that treated her so badly. The world rejected her, but the darkness did not. Once the world is covered by its love, a new civilisation will rise. A new society that will embrace her once more.
