anonymous
Death came after it's Angel, attempting to kill the monster that it had become. Their blades clashed, and they say that the sound still rings across the eons of the universe. The battle only lasted one night, but it left scars upon the earth that will never heal. Flashes of heavenly fire lit the darkened sky. But when the light of the sun touched the land, Death rose victorious. But while the Angel was gravely wounded, Death was unable to kill it.
anonymous
In the forest walked a king. The moon formed a crown for the boy and a cape of blood viscously dripped down his back. His hand held a blade glinting with red.
Ocean Vuong
"You're not a monster," I said. But I lied. What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.
