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tamingthemuse2015-06-02 07:39 am
katleept.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2015-06-02 07:39 am
Entry tags:
#463: Snake's Eye View - Kat Lee - From Their View - Original
Title: From Their View
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: Humans and Snakes
Rating: R/M
Challenge: #463: Snake's Eye View (5th challenge in a row for tracking.)
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 864
Summary:
Disclaimer: These words, fitting together in this way, belong to yours truly.
We look upon their kind with fear born from millennias of silent feuding. We watch them with hate as they crawl upon their bellies before us. We gas them. We poison them. We chop them, slice and dice them, anything it takes to kill them all. The only good one, after all, is a dead one.
Even then, once they're dead, we do not let them rest. The wicked deserve no rest, so we rip their skins from their bones. We grind their bones into old world medicines and use their skins for all sorts of things from decorations to shoes. Even in death, we walk upon them.
We will not let them rest. We will not grant them mercy. They deserve none, and if they have the chance, we know, they'll bite us. They'll eat our loved ones. They'll finish destroying humanity if ever they have the opportunity just as they did in the beginning in the garden all those centuries ago.
We may not remember the garden -- we only know of its legend and the legends that started all creation, or so we think --, but they do. They remember the garden and the one of their number who walked among our first ancestors. They remember the stories as though they lived them themselves for they have been passed down in their consciousness generation after generation.
They all know humans. They know our kind; they know our scents. They whisper to their young to watch out for us, just as we warn our young to steer clear of them. They move away when they sense us coming, but they can't always slither fast enough.
Their legs were stolen back in the garden, but they gave much more then. Now it is not given. It is taken instead. Their lives, and those of their parents and their offspring, their cousins and their relations, all are taken by us.
It is possible for us to live from the worst they can do to us, if we reach the right place and medicine in time, but still, we kill them. We slaughter them one after another. We trusted them once; we will not make that mistake again.
But was it really the snake who took everything from us then? They whisper among themselves. Just as we pass down the legends through our generations, they, too, have their stories to tell. It starts with their grandfather or grandmother, perhaps even their mother or father, who was killed by the one of us who ventured too close before they could crawl away, but it always goes back to that first snake, their first ancestor who knew ours, the only one among them who could walk.
They have always been in our charge. All the world was placed in our hands in that garden. We talked with them. We laughed among them. We shared our lives, our futures, our knowledge. Their ancestor never meant any harm to ours, but still, it happened.
That one day, that one bite that changed everything forever, happened. The snake didn't so much as place the apple in our hand. We plucked the apple. We took the bite. He just merely offered a suggestion, and his kind has been hunted ever since for it.
But what we do not know is that he was not alone in that garden. Left to his own wiles, the snake never would have noticed the apple, but he was not alone just as we are not alone today. Every moment in every lives, we have decisions to make. We have the good Knowledge, and we have the whispers in our ears, the whispers from the dark, the whispers that sometimes overtake us by our own allowance.
We strive us to kill, to pollute, to destroy everything in our wake. We are killing our own lands, and we are killing our own people. We are killing them, too, but unlike the snake who started it all, we make our own decisions. We do not wear another's skin to hide who we are. We wear it to flaunt. We flaunt who and what we are.
We are the species at the top, always have been, always will be, or so we believe, but then, how many times have we been wrong? How many times have truths we believed been proven to be false? How many lives have we taken at our own discretion?
They see us, and they run. They slide and slither as fast as they possibly can to escape the wickedness of our own ways. They know one of their own started it all, but they know more than we do. He didn't force our hands. He didn't force our thoughts. He merely gave us the key to unleash our own evil into the world, and he was never a snake to begin with. One possession, one being wearing snake's clothing, unleashed it all, but we hold the key to our own destiny, our own destruction, our doom. And they run. They run from the true monsters in the world, and we give chase, trampling all beneath our proverbial feet, until the very, dark, and final end.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: Humans and Snakes
Rating: R/M
Challenge: #463: Snake's Eye View (5th challenge in a row for tracking.)
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 864
Summary:
Disclaimer: These words, fitting together in this way, belong to yours truly.
We look upon their kind with fear born from millennias of silent feuding. We watch them with hate as they crawl upon their bellies before us. We gas them. We poison them. We chop them, slice and dice them, anything it takes to kill them all. The only good one, after all, is a dead one.
Even then, once they're dead, we do not let them rest. The wicked deserve no rest, so we rip their skins from their bones. We grind their bones into old world medicines and use their skins for all sorts of things from decorations to shoes. Even in death, we walk upon them.
We will not let them rest. We will not grant them mercy. They deserve none, and if they have the chance, we know, they'll bite us. They'll eat our loved ones. They'll finish destroying humanity if ever they have the opportunity just as they did in the beginning in the garden all those centuries ago.
We may not remember the garden -- we only know of its legend and the legends that started all creation, or so we think --, but they do. They remember the garden and the one of their number who walked among our first ancestors. They remember the stories as though they lived them themselves for they have been passed down in their consciousness generation after generation.
They all know humans. They know our kind; they know our scents. They whisper to their young to watch out for us, just as we warn our young to steer clear of them. They move away when they sense us coming, but they can't always slither fast enough.
Their legs were stolen back in the garden, but they gave much more then. Now it is not given. It is taken instead. Their lives, and those of their parents and their offspring, their cousins and their relations, all are taken by us.
It is possible for us to live from the worst they can do to us, if we reach the right place and medicine in time, but still, we kill them. We slaughter them one after another. We trusted them once; we will not make that mistake again.
But was it really the snake who took everything from us then? They whisper among themselves. Just as we pass down the legends through our generations, they, too, have their stories to tell. It starts with their grandfather or grandmother, perhaps even their mother or father, who was killed by the one of us who ventured too close before they could crawl away, but it always goes back to that first snake, their first ancestor who knew ours, the only one among them who could walk.
They have always been in our charge. All the world was placed in our hands in that garden. We talked with them. We laughed among them. We shared our lives, our futures, our knowledge. Their ancestor never meant any harm to ours, but still, it happened.
That one day, that one bite that changed everything forever, happened. The snake didn't so much as place the apple in our hand. We plucked the apple. We took the bite. He just merely offered a suggestion, and his kind has been hunted ever since for it.
But what we do not know is that he was not alone in that garden. Left to his own wiles, the snake never would have noticed the apple, but he was not alone just as we are not alone today. Every moment in every lives, we have decisions to make. We have the good Knowledge, and we have the whispers in our ears, the whispers from the dark, the whispers that sometimes overtake us by our own allowance.
We strive us to kill, to pollute, to destroy everything in our wake. We are killing our own lands, and we are killing our own people. We are killing them, too, but unlike the snake who started it all, we make our own decisions. We do not wear another's skin to hide who we are. We wear it to flaunt. We flaunt who and what we are.
We are the species at the top, always have been, always will be, or so we believe, but then, how many times have we been wrong? How many times have truths we believed been proven to be false? How many lives have we taken at our own discretion?
They see us, and they run. They slide and slither as fast as they possibly can to escape the wickedness of our own ways. They know one of their own started it all, but they know more than we do. He didn't force our hands. He didn't force our thoughts. He merely gave us the key to unleash our own evil into the world, and he was never a snake to begin with. One possession, one being wearing snake's clothing, unleashed it all, but we hold the key to our own destiny, our own destruction, our doom. And they run. They run from the true monsters in the world, and we give chase, trampling all beneath our proverbial feet, until the very, dark, and final end.
The End