Storie originali > Fantascienza
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Autore: gynevere    21/10/2020    0 recensioni
Un Overlord dell' Impero Tirannico parla del Regno Dimenticato di una Regina Lontana, bella come l' Aurora, fredda come le Stelle, che conosce da molto, ma che non ha mai incontrato se non nei suoi sogni, e nelle sue visioni.
Genere: Angst, Fantasy, Mistero | Stato: in corso
Tipo di coppia: Het
Note: nessuna | Avvertimenti: Incompiuta
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9.
 
There is a Ghost inside of you, My Lord.
A Ghost that floats gently in the sky, like a petal of a Rose, an abandoned Rose, a forgotten Rose, and She is haunted, like a foggy morning in the dust, when you think there is only a little Veil that can divide you from the Otherworld.
She walks in these fogs, and she doesn’t care, going always to East, as if She is following a Voice deep within, a Voice to whom She cannot say No.
This gently, softly, ghostly Phantom of a woman without feet is deep in your head, encrusted like a broken diamond in your heart, you dream of her at open eyes, you see her in your dreams, like a Memory of the Past, as if she has been planted in your consciousness, and this image enrages you, makes you feel astious, and rabid, and you don’t even say why. But you are addicted to her, entangled with her, and you dream of her as she dreams of you, crying desperately when, for the space of a moment, your heart tries to detach from her, or your soul hates her with pure venom and despise.
No, my Lord, you never are indifferent to her and she is never indifferent to you, and this is the worst wound of your long carreer, because it is a wound of a supernatural type, coming from another world, by a totally alien touch, a cold, gently, aristocratic touch, the touch of a sphinx, the touch of a star, and it burns, deeply down into you: you feel cursed, you feel loved, all in one, you feel rejected, you feel horrified by her, and you think she is not enough for someone like you, with your prowess, but she is the very last touch of that enchanting Old Taste of the Ancient Kingdoms, and even under your tongue, you can feel and sense the purity of her blue blood, and find delight in this sensation… the addicting, forbid feeling of tasting Light in the blood stream, that sort of alien electricity that comes from her, that cold, wet touch of her fingers, an innatural and non physical sensation that riverberates in your fibers, that gives you the shivers along the spine.
Anyway, you hate her: you find her an Enemy, and you are right, she is; and you find her addicting, and this is the most dangerous, and exciting, aspect of all… you want to see her tears. Despising her, quitting her, making her suffering, and feeling her heart falling for you, crushed, and in the same time, feeding her with illusions, searching for her in a non common way, reversing all of your anxious need to perceive her in every message of your body, as if she is deep under your skin, running in your veins, making you feeling insane… furious, for something frustrating and so tender, so sweet.
I cannot say you are a fool, My Lord, but you were the most easy man to catch into this delightful trap, because your life is made out only of war, contracts, alliances, richness, and there is no space for that strange, unnatural dimension made out of emotions you craved and you have gone into.
You tried to resist, to refuse this, but now, you see you cannot simply renounce. Will you search for her in the Real World? The more you go further, the more you will discover that your strenght, resolve, and power, is thirsty of her, and the more you will grow in this attitude of firm rigidity, the more you will ask for her, craving for a Real Touch, another one, as if she is a sort of drug, a philtre you are lost into, and without it you are in abstinence.
Yes, you can hate or despise her, but she is deep in your bloodstream, she poisons you and your male purity, your warrior purity, and even if you are on the watch, in a hidden, secret part of your soul, you are craving for her kisses, for that poison, for that charm, for that love that intoxicates you, for that passion that leaves you wounded, like it is always for all the Heroes that, for the first time in their life, meet the most sad, melancholic, Alien, vague being on this world, and want to feel her fragility, and her unearthly loneliness. She is, in effect, always you have dreamed of, when you were only a poor boy in search of fame and recognition on the tip of your sword, she is, in the end, the Diamond on your Ring. So spoke your loyal Red Dragon, who is carrying you since days, to run after that Silent, Precious Dream.
   
 
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