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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Sunday, February 26, 2006

    Inside The Ziggurat...

    I keep getting nagged about
    this. I sense there are those of you out there who wait. I was prepared to forget it and move on, as that seems to be much of what I do, here, surprisingly enough to me.
    I pour it out, and diminish my...whatever. But you, my willing victims, want more.

    Let me squeeze this boil, again...
    You unbelievers, you non-believers, amuse me. It must be like being color blind, or retarded, or unable to taste sweet, or sour. Life must not be worth living, yet still you insist upon it. Good for you. I admire the plucky. Though I refuse to attend the Special Olympics. Tards and mongoloids flapping around just unnerve me.

    So, let's get right down to it. Of course, they were ___pires. I write it thusly, so search engines might not bring them or their agents to my door. Or bring fools, either.

    Don't believe? Doesn't matter, Food, because that is what you are. Oh, the movies and books have it all wrong, but that is to be expected, and if you seek knowledge whereby to live your life, from fiction, you get what you deserve.
    [expect athiest snark, here...]

    From them, I got the ability to run through total darkness, and see a path...the outline of warm flesh. Heightened senses. She changed my life, and nearly destroyed it. She toyed with me, protected me, tormented me, and made me old before my time. I have a family heritage of, shall we say, 'sensitivity', and they sensed that, and during their stay in my remote mountain town, fed off of it, grew from it, and fed me as well.

    Insane? But of course, in the truest sense of the word. I saw them. I saw them fly. When they were in the neighborhood, other spirituality was released, and thrived. Darkness swirled, like coal smoke, released.

    But they were not evil. Never that. Something...other. Different. Dark, and old. And oh, so cold.

    I could not and would not write a novel of them. I would dare not, out of fear, and there would be no point.

    The wife wanted to read the end of this, so I wrote it. Has it ended? They are a truly endangered species. Perhaps five hundred left in all the world. I wish them well, just because. Some are 'evil', some are 'good'. Most just 'are'.
    Sadly, some parts of humanity have learnt of them, and hunt them actively, like a resource.

    Killing one, if you even could, would be like kiling a unicorn. Horrible, and tragic.

    And what the fuck do you think a unicorn needed that horn for, anyway...




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