"Bro, wake!"       He wasn't sure if it heard him. He was merely taking chances. He couldn't be sure if what he was doing was accurate or right. He couldn't be sure if he was sane or not. He couldn't be sure if was being humane or alien. He couldn't be sure if what had been happening to him were signs of some hideous attractions. He couldn't be sure if he needed time with himself. He couldn't be sure if he was the same person he used. He felt a little less of himself. Like a little bit of a faker skin. Been a long while since he saw blood trailing tracks through the veins of the agora. Been a while since he tasted blood and rage. When he'd sent head in the air in acrobatics. He missed those days! But that was not the time to revere those thoughts. He had something better to do. He needed to wake the sleeping cub, but he needed to be sure on how to go about it. That would actually be the first time h

     "You want to pay close attention, don't you!"       That was the third time he'd summoned them that day. Each paging for three minutes address or call it some inky information. What was he thinking? What was he feeling like? Couldn't he had told them once and for all at the first of second meeting? Nah! He could do whatever he liked and that was why he was a master. He could make pawn of his subjects. He could do whatever he liked to them. He could make them eat from what he'd not. He could make them feel the rage choking their patience to naught. He had so much an influence on them that he wondered how he'd been be able to manage them up to that moment. He knew that they had no choice and that was all he could pawn at that moment. He knew they'd be drown in the ocean of wishes. He knew their phrenic acreage would lease them many ideas but they would prefer to throw them to the walls of fears. All those were w

     "Let the struggle begin."       That was more than a shout or cry. It was a shouting cry or rather, crying shout. The owner of the vying voice was few steps from Ja Lia who was seating by the emperor. He seemed collected and his rusty retina knew patience and gaunt gentility. The lady off what looked like an elevated porch and edged towards Ja Lai while the crowds wore the rage of the tuning atmosphere out with their shrewd shouts. Their interest and jolting joy had been seeped in the insanity of the occasion. She bowed towards the two and took her side by Ja Lia humming haughty hymns her heart had shredded.        On ocassions of fights were crowds allowed into the fort. It wasn't their thing to do. They had the specific time to arrive and to leave. None of them had the rusty reason to be beyond what he or she was supposed to be. The only thing they did and would

     "Put yourselves together."       What was that supposed to mean? Like seat up or buckle down? Was he trying to tell them to brace their hearts and puke fear? Or probably he wanted them to come together. But they were together at the moment. They'd clustered like some bunch of grapes strapped to the twig of a vine. They didn't have any choice to make regarding what of sort makes their master was. They could only pick their legs to the haughty rhythm his rage and chopped consciousness played to them. They were merely pawns and wouldn't fight the thoughts. Of course they wouldn't fight the realization. They loved being in it. They had no choiced exception. What exception could they had had? They had been made to believe the lie that Ja Lia was more of a spiritual being than natural. And who would want to fiddle with a spiritual monster? When lightening is outta the bottle, who on earth can imprison it? Of co

      "There was something I did!"       He was vexed. Why wouldn't he be? Who asked her? She was nauseating to him. He didn't want up to refleshen the thoughts few days ago had lent him. He wasn't in the mood to trail that tarred track. He was in no mood of such stance. He was quite in a remote setting. A sewn setting of his imagination. He didn't want to nurse the odds of what the annoying Nymph had said. Why would she even talk to him? Didn't she has an idea of the hibernated hatred his hoisted heart had hurled at her?        He didn't know whether of not the Nymph was sane. Like her sanity was in the prime of distinction. Probably she was a clone of actions and thoughts. Or she was a mirage of realism. He had no idea what to think. She seemed not to understand the hatred he was nursing for her. The hatred wielded in the thorax of his ire. His urge to want to kill he