Both Myth and Fear.

Myth.

My power over man, on occasion, is fleshed out

once in a while, made manifest and whole-

what was thought, idea, interpretation, dreamt crawling out of a wet womb.

I was words but I purge them now for skin and marvel at the additions to my blackness-

I was nightmares; a old man doing what he knows works-

for too long, perhaps.

Selfish, yes, but well deserved for good service.

Testing out this new morpheus,

this elastic skin that skitters under your heavy doors and bleeds into your carpets

in the corner of your eyes-

seen just enough for you to know I'm there, that something's

a

bit

off.

Pleasures in making you uneasy-

that familiar and uneasy smell-

the chase is all I need, no final confrontation, yet.

Being everything you ever imagined, everything unique to you and your fears

and the world's-

the creatures, banes, deities, forces woven into tapestries and spun on tongues

and told by campfires and at sleepovers, modified a bit sometimes by location-

it's absolutely divine.

I am a god in my element, even now I'm outside your window, surly and sultry,

using this form to its fullest.

Both myth and fear.

Reviews

[Legion]

And thus god flexes and screams at the effort of birth. Damn good write. Love the concept. Going in favorites.