The Neanderthal. 

In tired eyes. Eyelids closed. And overworked. All energy used up ensuring day to day survival. Measures. Yet every day he finds time to relive that unforgettable hit. In absinance. The first initial sight. For he straight away knew. She wasn’t of the same kind. Of course every single member of his community knew. For when for in view, the question of who, urgently pushing through the queue. Mastered tools. Urging. Little known, the cause of his recessive thoughts. Where for ought their secret whereabouts? 

Could there be such chance?  For being born with this feeling of hate. A trance? Blisteringly intense. By all means a dramatic and sudden infectious spreading. Lost sense. And no way of logistics. In any such events. Those indispicable sights of sightings. Intially of awe and dispair. Why such ugly? For why this being how they appear? Not only this but another pulsating type of energy lead to his footsteps silently trailing. That of her. 

Miss shapely forms. They don’t have our refinements. Worse than barbarians. Lesser beings. Than me. A complete homosapien. Just casual thoughts. Yet still carefully trailing past. Intrigued. Making sure gone entirely unseen. Not the usual predicted tax. Communal home fading beyond visible maxing sight. No longer left. Home. Friend. Allie. Only concern being that preceeding vision of his. With it possessed. Pity. At that point. The only overriding authority.

Sudden. She comes within line. Of sight. He. Imagines. All kinds of scary. Darkened shadows, flesh tearing, limb flaring, vengeful decapitating, movements not seen with that of life. Vivid pictures of these gastly things. A whole array of unpleasant departure dates. Since. That’s what it’s told to be. Yet within that spacing gap. Between the crevasse of the various species of tree. Oak. Pine. Beach. And spruce. Many a varying shade of bark. Warmly textures. Is where he then happens to see. A mirrored resemblance of him. Self. They’re not what they appear to be! Beasts of fortnightly moon, taring raw, striated flesh from their offspring. Where each piece of meat. Equal in game. If it wasn’t for the beholder of his eye it’d certainly be this imagined identity. 

Now what beseen with these very eyes. A lifeline of stories, clustered gatherings, horrific tribal sightings, scattered tales told by every man recited conditionally verse by verse. Man, woman or child. Yet how could he distrust those very eyes of his? Simple. Yet still he continued to think. How argue against all wisdom told by his tribe? Instinctiviely he next heard himself thinking “Those disgusting things have never been of our kind!” Then just as quick as an instant. Another voice inside his head. For “Thats very true, they’re of course not of my kind. But of kind, no?” Like two minds. These conflictions. Such conjugations of thoughts. She bears within reaching. Conditioned thinking. “I’ll either be the predator. Or the prey.” And so kicks in all his defense. Tense. Anxious. And ready for the kill. 

He can still see her clearly. Always. Even after all those passing years. Not only her feel. The touching breeze. Sounds. Light sways in distant trees tops. Background feels. In her did he hear, touch, really see. Not only feel. For not once did it waver. Her transcending smile. Since then in this moment, he must have felt himself come to be. Flesh for flesh. Beyond this mongaloid self. More than her retarded health. Whom possessed much beauty and wealth. In their identical stealths? Identical? Can such thing ever come to be? Through looking within her eyes. He realised for him or his very own people. Can also neither be.

Trust this being? Not refined. Not mine. Him. “Or Me.”  And yet he feels. Yes. For they were both hidden in home. Home! Tis night. His home. Is where his should be. So slowly he starts to leave. Still both eyes in sight. Nightly eyes. Intent. For he didn’t think those light circle glows ever did fade. Least not in his attached memory. Passing time. 15 years. Not one single sighting. One child with his wife. To this day. In lingerings may. There’s not one such regret. All praise due to her. She let him see. All life. Beings. Individuals. That doesn’t only include him. Me. You. No such indication of his self. Which lead to that day.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s