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Scarlet Preysler
California    All the words I cannot utter
29/F/India    Free soul with feelings for feelingless soul

Poems

storm siren Sep 2017
She paced back and forth,
The three inch block heels of her scuffed black boots
Clacking against the unfinished hardwood floor.

Some would say that she looked distraught.
Others would call it confidence, or "walking with a purpose."

But they never looked at her eyes.

Almond shaped and wide, fluttering and glossing across every detail of the room repeatedly,
Until she had it memorized.
Her usually, sunset-esque, yellowy-oak colored eyes scanned the room. She looked out from beneath thick, long black eyelashes. Her iris's glistened black.

No amber streaks.
No red accents.
No infatuated gold.
No comforting, warm, oak brown.

Her eyes were black.
Dark.
Cold.
Hungry.

Like a predator.

Her shoulders tensed and she began to slow her pacing,
Her steps slowly becoming lighter and lighter,
Until they could not be heard
Aside from the soft beat of vibrational frequency through the floorboards.

She finished scanning the room,
Shifting her eyes from every exit or entrance or place to hide and cower,
Taking note of it all.

Her eyes focused, her pacing coming to a sudden and abrupt stop.
Her body became rigid.
Every elegant curve and smooth, soft
Length of utterly feminine and maternal skin she had
Suddenly became very, very sharp.
Rough.
Dangerous.

Her stance was similar to that of a defensive wildcat.
Tail low.
Hackles raised.
Claws unsheathed.
Lips curling ever so subtly
That at any moment her canines could press and sink into her prey's
Soft flesh,
And draw blood.

Her eyes locked on her prey.

All talking in the slightly crowded, dimly lit, room came to a sudden halt.
A cold chill blew through the room.
The hair along the necks of each and every guest stood on end.
Even as humans,
Who are so very proud of not relying on instinct,
Understood what this meant.

Danger.

She was still, rigid.
You could not see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

There was no noise,
Aside from the faint bassline from the speakers.

Judging by the voice spitting out lyrics,
She guessed the song was either by The Offspring, or maybe Say Anything.

One guest flipped off the speakers.

The buzz of static.
Then the buzz of a moth flying repeatedly into one of the faded lightbulbs.
Then, silence.

They stared at her,
But she did not see them.
Her eyes remained focused,
Trained on her slowly-growing-more-nervous-each-passing-second prey.

There was a low, guttural growl rumbling from her throat.

Her prey looked up.

Their eyes locked.

Before the other girl could make out a single syllable,
She pulled her lips back into a snarl.

"How dare you?"

The prey only blinked in response.

"Who do you think you are?"

The prey furrowed her eyebrows, trying to play dumb.

"Have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?!" She coiled her muscles like a spring. Her body pulled tight together.

"What?"

"He meant nothing to you." She pounced into the crowd, slamming into her prey. A flurry of black and white.

"And you mean nothing to me."

She sunk her long, pointed teeth and sharp molars into the flesh of her prey's throat.

Vile blood filled her mouth.
Pushing past the urge to gag,
She bit down harder.

Then,
She heard a cracking noise.
And then, a snap.

She stood,
Dropping her prey's limp body onto the floor
As she unclenched her jaw and opened her mouth.

The girl dropped, lifeless, to the floor.

The predator opened her mouth,
Feeling the toxic, bitter blood dribble out her mouth and drip from her lips and chin.

The crowd of people were panicked.

They looked like they were screaming.

She could not hear them.

She looked ahead and stared into the mirrors along the wall.

Her hair was black and matted and wild. A mane of knotted kitten fur and hummingbird feathers.
Her eyes were black, dark as midnight. No light reflected in, no emotion shined out. The whites of her eyes were just barely visible.

Her skin was pale, so white it was an almost sickly yellow-grey. She could see the veins beneath her cold, unfeeling complexion.
Her lips were red. With blood. Hers and that of her prey.
Her fingers were longer, mangled into claws.
She stood hunched, ready to attack at any moment.

Her face was twisted and contorted into a snarling look of pain.

She hated when she got like this.
When she lost all her humanity,
In order to serve her righteous cause,
Whatever it maybe at the time.

But there were certain sacrifices you need to make for the people you love.

And if it meant protecting them,
If it meant their happiness,
If it meant their comfort,
She would give it all.

Her whole heart.

Her whole soul.
Ron Philip Jan 2013
A predator studies his prey prior to attack...
while the prey lacks the ability to even fight back.

The weaknesses of the prey are easy to see.
Sometimes the right questions are all that you need.

Sneak up quietly, use Facebook if you must...
because a face to face attack would probably be a bust.

Care not if she is married with small children in her care.
What matters was lost long ago due to your own mother's "care".

You were able to grab a hold of her heart without care for her life.
This happened in church and that prey was my wife.

The fact that you have a job that pays minimum wage should have been a sign.
But you had blinded your prey and anyways Starbucks "is only for a short time".

I don't know what she was thinking...she said you were fat and probably gay.
You could definitely play Santa Claus but the facts told me your way.

The predator you are has killed a marriage.  I hope you are happy.
I must move on for the wife I knew is now dead and hope for better in what lies ahead.