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by Emanon
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Gothic · #1249303
Chapter two of the Jade sagas story one I hope you like it!
How could I have been so blind and so weak? Why did I let that lowly creature go on breathing? Why did I spare him the agony and sheer rage I had unleashed on so many other creatures like him before? Why was he different? He is but a frail human like all the rest? Why did I allow him life? He is but an insignifigant speck of life staining a world of humans that should all be drowning in their own blood? Why should a miniscule creature like him invoke mercy from me? Why did I not wish to do him harm like all the rest? He is no different--was no different. Just a creature encased in tender flesh so easily torn to bits--full of blood that can splatter and spill from his body like any other human. His eyes the same boring vision of dull mediocrity--though as deep brown as the sweetest of chocolates--but still human eyes! His lips were pink and rosy full of life from the blood that pumped within his body--full, supple lips--but human lips just the same. His face was the same weak structure of bones so easily broken and the skin that covered was still easily peeled away--though he had a masculine squareness to his jaw and cheekbones as if carved from marble--but still his face like any other human face--could have been caved in with a single blow. His body was the same human packaging of vulnerable flesh--though his frame was large, his shoulders broad and his arms sinewy and rippling with the muscles concealed beneath. His stature was great, he towered like a god, his hands were large and calloused from days of hard labor he must of endured, his hips were narrow---but were human hips--easily shattered like a pane of glass. What made him so different? And why do I even in my loathing of him--speak so complimentary of his physical attributes. He was attractive--is attractive, but is still a human--still inferior--as the dirt upon the ground that crunches beneath my feet. Why do I think of him in this the hour of my suffering? Why do I think of his eyes--they burned through me--within them was a fire I've never seen within mortal's eyes. His eyes blazed with pure compassion and understanding--love for his fellow humans and still lingering within those eyes was the pure and gentle, sweetness of a boy, yet intense focus--focus on what? I don't know. His eyes plague me, dance through my mind, float in my memory like a peaceful dream that never subsides. Such innocence I beheld in his chocolate eyes and yet such darkness--as I looked into his eyes I knew fully of what he was capable of. Buried deep within his orbs of amber was a coldness and the ability to kill. It was not as nearly as dark as the coldness and indifference within me, but it was there, nonetheless. Deep within his pools of amber sweetness was a bitter abyss of wintry thoughts and capabilties for brutality. But his abiltity to kill I realized as I gazed deeper was reserved not for humans as mine was--his indifference and murderous actions were reserved for my kind alone.
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