It’s cold. No animals could ever thrive here... I doubt if they’d even want to really!
But it’s cold and still. There’s that feeling of dampness in the air. There isn't much circulation and I love the smell of me. It fills the cold like the fragrance of fresh blood when another creature dies. The smell of me, I coil around and let it lather my skin. The roots from above hang like chandeliers. There’s that sign of life, constantly reminding me what I live for... warm blood. It’s cold.
Golden streaks, like ribbons enter. It’s cool now. I can hear the voices of what will make my day a good start. Fresh and warm.
The ribbons enter, the chandeliers light up. There is a slight whiff of fresh air. I remain still and I bask in the aromas that fill the air. A slight movement above me, shakes the chandeliers. Tiny particles of dirt sprinkle on my skin. The mixture of smells, of the earth and me, wake me up.
The voices outside continue in unison. I move so slightly, I almost forget of my own presence. The coil unwraps. No sounds in my part of the world. Slow movement, almost as gentle as a snail moving across a leaf. The only trace I leave behind is my skin. The lathered skin, with the smell of me. But, now I look somewhat new; a new being of sorts. The dirt around me shifts. It presses against my skin. There is subtle friction but I manage. It’s my morning regime, first a brown coat and then a partridge.
The voices grow louder. I emerge without disturbing the lair. It must remain as it is, with the smell of me. I can feel those golden ribbons, they envelope me and I feel the warmth. It’s so familiar, like fresh blood.
Sometimes I wonder how stupid the creatures of this world are. How can they not understand me? My intentions?
I move an inch. They could have taken a mile.
But, life is taken for granted, by everyone. Not by me. I know what it feels like to move along the greens and hear them shudder in horror as I kill; one helpless victim after another. I know how it feels to have the power to command over the presence of a creature on this earth. I do it because I do not take my life for granted. I would die for the smell of me. I want creatures to smell the terror, smell the power, smell the pleasure, smell the satisfaction, smell me...
I move closer this time, calculating my every move. I am excited, I sense the warmth. It moves this time. Slyly I reach out.
I taste the air, I taste it.
It is inside me, we are one.
I sense a struggle, but my skin stops the blood circulation.
The partridge is dead.
I retreat with pleasure. The morning has gone off as planned. But then again, it had to.
The lair awaits my presence. I am in the damp air again. The smell of me fills lair. I lie there and let every part of my body go limp. I can still feel the partridge. I coil and rest in what are the fruits, rather flesh of my hunts.My skin rests against the brown once again. The is a cooling effect and I let the coolness surround me.
Water. It drops. Like big globules from the sky. The chandeliers shook. And the first tiny stream of water enters, unwelcome. I know that the rest of the creatures will probably rejoice for the hour of the life giver and home destroyer has arrived. One hot afternoon of lazing around turns into the search for a new lair. The fight to live. As I leave, it turn and look at what remains. I see my skin float and there is only a sweet smell in the air. The mud and water. No longer the smell of me.
I struggle sometimes. The search is never easy. I move, as slyly and silently as possible. I do not wish for the creatures to sense my presence. I am homeless. I am out in the open with nowhere to retreat to.
The air is cool; the water has stopped pouring from the sky. The mud is wet as I move through it. My search continues, but the sky is red now. It reminds me of blood. How it must stop moving every time the creature is inside me.
I see stones. Boulders. I move with caution. I must not set skin on the lair of another. But, its dry and the darkness heighten my senses. It seems no one is around. I move ahead. It’s as if there is a warmth emanating from the stones.
I realise there is another. A creature, not of my kind though. I am alert and every muscle movement becomes a reaction to the warmth I can feel ahead of me. Power rages through my skin. Death lurks close by. I move beyond the boulders. I know it’s there, unaware of my presence.A rabbit. Sitting.
I spring on it. It’s like a reflex action inside me. Before I know it, it’s become a part of me. I see a branch and coil.
I can hear the bones. One by one they snap and the struggle of the creature comes to an end. Immense pleasure runs through my veins.
I slither into the hole in the rocks. It was probably the rabbits burrow. It must have sat there safe, but now its mine. Just like his life, his home is now mine.
As the darkness fills the maroon sky, I retreat to my new lair. There aren’t chandeliers here but it has that chill, which I have come to love.
But there is still one thing missing. I wait... as the lair fills up with...
The smell of me.