Lycanthropy


I sense something weird, a strange feeling in this room. It’s damp as usual with old paper’s scent twists in every corners. Graveyard of tales and fantasies, a beautiful sin.

It’s still dark, a trace of the night. But I’m drifting on the surge of blue of widest sky I’ve ever seen. Wild clouds are flowing free above a vast alpine tundra. The tree line miles away depicts a story of the gray guardians. Krummholz on spruces and larches chiseled by fierce freezing winds that blow to moss-covered taiga.

Heavenly lights spraying on the surface of crystal snowflake. I feel a rush of race.
In my blood.
In my body.
Through a great snowstorm. Running fast, avoiding rowan trees.
Chasing you.

This is insane. How do I supposed to know all those vivid imagery? I almost feel the coldness of snow on my skin. Here in my room, beyond equator line.

Despite everything, I feel a change in me. Beard is growing thick in one night. I have muscles on my skinny body. Soft hairs growing all over my body.
I feel a pulse on my neck.
Wrinkled hard.
Curved fingernails.
Adrenaline rush.
Rage,
A whirlwind in my head.

Rays of sun break through the window. Soft and shady, almost magical. It breaks a dream that was blown by the moon when you entered this room last night. Your bright red hair curving your sweet seducing lips, with a skin so white and eyes so blue.

I’m still lying on my bed. Morning always tells another story when you’ve already gone this morning, disappear like you have no history.
No memory.
But I still remember the white night in your arms. Like a snow queen. No past or future when I was with you. And you, are, maybe the cause of all this. What is left now is only disintegration. Tales that’s sucking in. Changing life.

My eyes weakened by sun, so I wait for the sun to set. I walk and open the door, to get some fresh air, to get my human sense. But I feel an instant heat in my flesh from a last shade of light in the sky.

Suddenly I smell the scent of your body that lingers from last night. Blown by wind across the sea. I feel sick, because you left me on despair.

My eyes blurry to see people walking in the street.

Reddish teeth.

I feel tense,
of desire.
Total thirst,
of blood.

Novia, 2014

Krummholz:
An area of stunted windblown trees growing at high elevations on mountain slopes.

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