Post-Denial of the Christmas Kind...

 

We are what we are...

 

However,

sometimes masks are enough...

and superstitious diversions clever enough to warp our truth.

 

We are however...

the Creatures that stalk,

the first two or three weeks of December...

we do not speak,

and we can no longer remember...

What we once knew however,

has become tattooed upon what skin...

 they allowed us to keep.

 

So now we read our own stories...

as though they were stars that had been inscribed,

in the Heavens above.

 

So it began...

We woke first deep beneath the earth,

to darkness and freezing cold...

we felt hands against our new wings,

twisting and teaching...

Teaching us what it was to feel fear,

so we would grow...

We were taught there was no life,

without fear...

 

 

Yet my Brethren and I,

we resisted...

We clawed our way up through the clay,

through the centipedes...

through the bones of old monsters,

to reach that harsh air of the above...

So finally we saw,

and felt...

and heard,

and remembered...

as the rain fell,

and then...

They,

came for us...

the Ones of Law,

the ones of deeper magic...

than we could fathom.

 

They cursed us...

forevermore.

Placed us in human forms,

that were mere prisons...

for the indescribable beings we had once been.

They placed us under the guard of many...

bondages wrought through debt,

through price...

through love,

through fear...

and still we cannot escape.

 

 

 

These silver threads bind us stronger than any chains...

and we long to destroy and cut and unravel,

but instead we are appointed the thieves...

the waifs,

the orderlies of the night.'

 

Ignore us shadows...

dear Sir and MadMadam,

for it is merely us...

wrapped up within a myth,

and sending you the remnants of what celebration we can give...

to you,

for once you have been properly terrified...

no greater is the beauty,

than of something as simple as a Christmas tree.

 

Perchance...

to dream of a true new start,

to dream a new dream...

and allow these wings to take flight,

to run further and farther than anywhere we have ever been...

to where no one will know our name,

and time takes a breather...

from his never-ending task,

of counting the many hours and minutes that had passed...

 

 

 

 

Let us rest and dream and create and remember and laugh....

 

I wish you already,

a Merry Christmas,

as melodramatically gothic as I can make it...

and please,

if you are - like me -....

a memory junky,

watch Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.

 

I will tonight...

though more often than not,

I need to watch Sucker Punch...

someone please buy me it for Christmas?

 

 

Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx