Saturday, 25 April 2015

Animals in the City

The city is a scary place to be at night. It's dark, yet noisy; empty, but bustling; cold, yet hot. Well, you'd think it was hot by the way the girls are dressed these days: wearing fur fit to cover merely their most sacred places - almost.

Animals roam the streets, howling at each other loudly; their chatter a plethora of nonsensical sounds vibrating amongst themselves. Maybe I'm one of them - the way I live around here. I scrounge food wherever I can; stealing from bins, or shops; begging for food and drink. But, what can I do? Not all of us get to live in those big houses, being waited on hand and foot. Food, water, a place to stay - these are the things that I dream of.

I spread my body across the concrete and imagine. My imagination mutes my reality and I am where I want to be. This is where I should be.

Here, I am human. I am an equal. Fresh water, cooked food, and toys to play with. People talk to me; I make them happy and they make me happy too.

I'm free to take a walk around a park, a clean man, without the urge to roam bins or find shelter. I'm healthy and beautiful. I'm blissfully content.

My problems have faded to what am I going to do today?; what am I to eat?; who am I going to see? I like it this way and don't take it for granted.

A boot to the stomach and I'm awake. Conscious in reality. I'm unclean and dressed in the dirt of the asphalt I sleep in. I'm hungry - it's been hours since I ate. There's a man in uniform, standing over me, stradling me, with his hand around the back of my neck. He's taking me away.

He's dragging me to a van gracefully when a thought passes through my mind: maybe I didn't wake up. This is still a dream, and I'm being taken to a better place.

In this best-case-scenario the man feels sympathy for me, and his compassionate heart compelled him to save me. He's taking me on a journey away from my reality and into my dream. He sees my potential, behind sorrow of circumstance. He wants to make it better. He wants to make us equal.

But I can never be equal. I am a dog.

Friday, 24 April 2015

The Beginning

People often say that taking half an hour of each day to do something creative is beneficial for the mind; often comparable to meditation. This blog should hopefully satisfy just that and be the home of short stories I will write for fun.

I can't really explain the Faerie name or theme for the blog to even myself, so I probably will not for now. Maybe I will write about them some day. For today, just an introduction for the page. 

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