No one knows what would have been there if we hadn't spoken the spell. Dark road of middle of the jungle was so strange, so without any existence moving there, that we had to remind ourselves that we were just vulnerable humans. If not what were we then?
So we started, we progressed in the middle of the dark, as they always say, and no one we observed, no one at least who could make us feel a little, just a little being familiar, related to this unknown and strange world. We were just alone and full of the fear which was spreading inside us. So what could we do?
No one will ever recognize, will ever, the way we were slain there. I saw our blood pouring there, on the leafs, in the pattern of the road, and I couldn't even understand why and who was killing us. Just, just at the last glance, as if he was showing me his face just as a reminder, I saw, I was stricken back, as if some one had hit me on the face with a cubical or something like that cold iron, and anger and also regret, regret for that way I was going to be killed just by such a cheap person or cause, flamed out of my eyes. But there was no room to react. We were dying and no one, even us, could help us. I could, just that, I could just write a sentence with my blood on the path. I don't know if he realized that or not, but he didn't show anything. I just wrote it for future passengers here, to be aware of the danger, to be aware and not to be slain, slaughtered, in this low and shameful way. To be more proud and high headed. I wrote: “Hey man! Don’t be afraid, we were just wolves. And we were killed, slaughtered, like them all. Don’t be sorry for slaughtering of some, just some, predatory wolves, man! Don’t be sorry!"
So we started, we progressed in the middle of the dark, as they always say, and no one we observed, no one at least who could make us feel a little, just a little being familiar, related to this unknown and strange world. We were just alone and full of the fear which was spreading inside us. So what could we do?
No one will ever recognize, will ever, the way we were slain there. I saw our blood pouring there, on the leafs, in the pattern of the road, and I couldn't even understand why and who was killing us. Just, just at the last glance, as if he was showing me his face just as a reminder, I saw, I was stricken back, as if some one had hit me on the face with a cubical or something like that cold iron, and anger and also regret, regret for that way I was going to be killed just by such a cheap person or cause, flamed out of my eyes. But there was no room to react. We were dying and no one, even us, could help us. I could, just that, I could just write a sentence with my blood on the path. I don't know if he realized that or not, but he didn't show anything. I just wrote it for future passengers here, to be aware of the danger, to be aware and not to be slain, slaughtered, in this low and shameful way. To be more proud and high headed. I wrote: “Hey man! Don’t be afraid, we were just wolves. And we were killed, slaughtered, like them all. Don’t be sorry for slaughtering of some, just some, predatory wolves, man! Don’t be sorry!"
1 comments:
it remainds me my birth, maybe some birth like my birth, some sighted birth in a blind world, I like that jungle, that iron bat, and the slayer,I like pouring blood, my blood, my frieds blood, our beloveds's blood,being drawn blood,I do believe we can never find a way out of the jungle ,cyclic condition of death and rebirth never stop, and the last chance to survive is just the acceptace of that bloody death,dont tried ur soul by struggling, there is no rapturous applause waiting for us,I can accpet and forget all the misfortunes but I loathe the things which unleashed me alone in the middle of this jungle, forever.
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