Lady of the Beasts
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,448
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,448
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Liberation
Chapter Eight:
Liberation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~7 Years Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine entered the room with pride, wearing stilettos, walking upright and her head held up straight.
“Today I will be reading a poem from William Blake,” she said in clear English. “To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower, to hold eternity within the palm of your hand and infinity within the hour,” Christine said fluently. The people around the dinner table clapped as Christine slowly sat down.
“That was very good,” Max whispered.
Christine picked up the fork and knife and cut a piece of well done sirloin stake and plopped it her mouth.
“Indeed it was, studying William Blake in my English course was hard, but I don’t think I had to do much homework, seeing how I also had to take pre-calculus.”
“As a treat, I’m taking you to the zoo.”
“Really?” Christine said, her brownish-hazel eyes glittering, she began to pant slightly but then withdrew her tongue, knowing she couldn’t live by her feral impulses.
“Of course,” Max said, kissing her on the cheek.
They drove to zoo. But before doing so, they stopped for a delicious salad and a movie. When they had reached the zoo, Christine was amazed at the great sight of animals. There were white tigers and orange tigers, ostriches, bears, lions, elephants, penguins, hippos, rhinos, peacocks and zebras. But lastly, there were wolves in cages.
“Isn’t this an amazing sight? Where do all the animals come from?”
“Well some are from the forest, others are all over the world, like the African Elephant or the birds from the Islands.”
“They seem quite sad in these cages,” Christine said.
“How can you tell they are sad?” Max said.
“I can see it in their eyes,” Christine said pointing at one of the lions. “I can see it.”
“Would you like to see the giraffes?”
Christine nodded, “Of course…” she said, a little melancholy.
“You seem sad yourself,” Max said.
Christine shook her head. As they walked up the stairs to see the giraffes, something caught her eye. Christine glanced at the cages with two wolves in it. Their scent was familiar and so were their eyes.
Is that Celeste? Christine thought. Her fur was matted and grayish from years of imprisonment.
She walked closer to the cage—if some outside force was pushing her towards the cage.
“Christine! Come on, the zoo is closing in less than an hour.”
“I’m coming Max,” Christine called out, “I just want to see this…animal.”
Animal, she thought. That is what they were. Animals and she is human. She took a piece of meat and threw it in the cage with the wolf pacing around inside of it.
The wolf closed in on the meat and swallowed it. Christine pulled a candy bar from the pocket and nibbled on it.
“You wouldn’t understand. My life is so busy…I used to be so wild and untamed, and sickly, I was abused a lot in my life. Years of abuse have made me very sad…but my life is better with Max, he has been so kind,” she said.
The wolf glanced at her.
“Christine! Let’s go,” Max said sternly.
“I was just observing the animals, Max, please calm down,” she said as they headed back to the car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine stood on the porch, looking out in the rain.
“I wonder what is beyond…life,” she asked, “There has to be…a life after life. We just can’t die and our being fetters like it never exists.”
“Thinking to yourself, I see,” Max said, bringing a plate of mash potatoes, gravy and spaghetti.
Christine smiled and took the plate gently, “I’m thinking of a lot of things, Max. But what I’m especially thinking about is human nature. I met a lot of humans my whole life and I don’t trust—I don’t think I ever will. But I have you Max, which is really what I need. The world has no place for a person like me Max, but you seem to have a place for me. Thank you,” she said.
“Yeah…you are about to turn 28,” Max said, “In a few months, I believe.”
“A birthday is in order,” Christine said with a playful wink.
“Why weren’t you so eager to leave the zoo? I’d think so because it smells like shit over there.”
“I was looking at a wolf…she looked familiar.”
“She? How do you know it’s a she?”
“Her eyes are brighter and plus she has nipples. She looked like my sister, Celeste.”
“Excuse me? They are wolves, Christine; you don’t call animals ‘sisters.’ You don’t live in the forest anymore.”
“Oh…yeah, you are right. Damn it…” she muttered. “She looks so disheartened though!”
“Oh, get real, Christine,” Max said, sipping his wine daintily.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“G’day people, we have a real treat, Christine will be reciting a poem that she wrote for us. I think it is very good, it captures her imagination really well.”
Christine took the paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. Clearing her throat she began her introduction.
“This poem shows personification, the literary use of giving human-like traits to an animal. The poem is called “Liberation,” written and composed by me, Christine Cullman.”
They audience clapped. Christine took a deep breath. She thought of pleasing the audience. There she began to say the first stanza.
“Freedom comes at a cost
A cost most of us cannot afford
A life free from chains and cages
A life that birds experience in the air
We tremble beneath the earth
Bound by rules, burned by the hearth
Here, I’m on my knees bleeding
Don’t stop—I’m here praying for freedom
Freedom can by taken away
A caged bird is an example
Liberation can be shielded from the best of us
And the worst of us
You are my mirror—don’t stop—
Here on my knees, I’m praying
I’m crying
And what I see, reflecting back at me
Is nothing but someone who is chained?
And not free, but sad and cold
You see the footsteps
In the sand, washed away by waters over time
You see the raindrops
Coming down slowly, unbound from our word
Free from our touch, our rules
Only to see that we are only fools
Chasing after the wind, chasing after time
So elusive and cold, comes life, crashing down
Comes bondage and pain
We tremble beneath the earth
Bound by rules, burned by the hearth
Here, I’m on my knees bleeding
We are our own mirrors
Don’t stop—I’m here, praying from freedom
Who cannot remember?
When are my wishes granted?
If I can call back, and here I’m sleeping
I’ll never come back
Freedom can by taken away
A caged bird is an example
Liberation can be shielded from the best of us
And the worst of us
You are my mirror—don’t stop—
Here on my knees, I’m praying
I’m crying
And what I see, reflecting back at me
I am my own mirror
Don’t stop praying from me—for us, for ‘we’”
Christine took a deep and then closed off with, “This was the poem, Liberation.” She walked down from the podium and walked out, almost angry. Max ran after her.
“Are you alright?”
“No I am not. I feel emptiness inside of me after I composed that poem. Something is missing, but I can’t really remember.”
“Well a good night’s sleep will do you good, head for the house okay?”
Christine nodded and walked off.
But she wasn’t heading back to the house.
Liberation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~7 Years Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine entered the room with pride, wearing stilettos, walking upright and her head held up straight.
“Today I will be reading a poem from William Blake,” she said in clear English. “To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower, to hold eternity within the palm of your hand and infinity within the hour,” Christine said fluently. The people around the dinner table clapped as Christine slowly sat down.
“That was very good,” Max whispered.
Christine picked up the fork and knife and cut a piece of well done sirloin stake and plopped it her mouth.
“Indeed it was, studying William Blake in my English course was hard, but I don’t think I had to do much homework, seeing how I also had to take pre-calculus.”
“As a treat, I’m taking you to the zoo.”
“Really?” Christine said, her brownish-hazel eyes glittering, she began to pant slightly but then withdrew her tongue, knowing she couldn’t live by her feral impulses.
“Of course,” Max said, kissing her on the cheek.
They drove to zoo. But before doing so, they stopped for a delicious salad and a movie. When they had reached the zoo, Christine was amazed at the great sight of animals. There were white tigers and orange tigers, ostriches, bears, lions, elephants, penguins, hippos, rhinos, peacocks and zebras. But lastly, there were wolves in cages.
“Isn’t this an amazing sight? Where do all the animals come from?”
“Well some are from the forest, others are all over the world, like the African Elephant or the birds from the Islands.”
“They seem quite sad in these cages,” Christine said.
“How can you tell they are sad?” Max said.
“I can see it in their eyes,” Christine said pointing at one of the lions. “I can see it.”
“Would you like to see the giraffes?”
Christine nodded, “Of course…” she said, a little melancholy.
“You seem sad yourself,” Max said.
Christine shook her head. As they walked up the stairs to see the giraffes, something caught her eye. Christine glanced at the cages with two wolves in it. Their scent was familiar and so were their eyes.
Is that Celeste? Christine thought. Her fur was matted and grayish from years of imprisonment.
She walked closer to the cage—if some outside force was pushing her towards the cage.
“Christine! Come on, the zoo is closing in less than an hour.”
“I’m coming Max,” Christine called out, “I just want to see this…animal.”
Animal, she thought. That is what they were. Animals and she is human. She took a piece of meat and threw it in the cage with the wolf pacing around inside of it.
The wolf closed in on the meat and swallowed it. Christine pulled a candy bar from the pocket and nibbled on it.
“You wouldn’t understand. My life is so busy…I used to be so wild and untamed, and sickly, I was abused a lot in my life. Years of abuse have made me very sad…but my life is better with Max, he has been so kind,” she said.
The wolf glanced at her.
“Christine! Let’s go,” Max said sternly.
“I was just observing the animals, Max, please calm down,” she said as they headed back to the car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine stood on the porch, looking out in the rain.
“I wonder what is beyond…life,” she asked, “There has to be…a life after life. We just can’t die and our being fetters like it never exists.”
“Thinking to yourself, I see,” Max said, bringing a plate of mash potatoes, gravy and spaghetti.
Christine smiled and took the plate gently, “I’m thinking of a lot of things, Max. But what I’m especially thinking about is human nature. I met a lot of humans my whole life and I don’t trust—I don’t think I ever will. But I have you Max, which is really what I need. The world has no place for a person like me Max, but you seem to have a place for me. Thank you,” she said.
“Yeah…you are about to turn 28,” Max said, “In a few months, I believe.”
“A birthday is in order,” Christine said with a playful wink.
“Why weren’t you so eager to leave the zoo? I’d think so because it smells like shit over there.”
“I was looking at a wolf…she looked familiar.”
“She? How do you know it’s a she?”
“Her eyes are brighter and plus she has nipples. She looked like my sister, Celeste.”
“Excuse me? They are wolves, Christine; you don’t call animals ‘sisters.’ You don’t live in the forest anymore.”
“Oh…yeah, you are right. Damn it…” she muttered. “She looks so disheartened though!”
“Oh, get real, Christine,” Max said, sipping his wine daintily.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“G’day people, we have a real treat, Christine will be reciting a poem that she wrote for us. I think it is very good, it captures her imagination really well.”
Christine took the paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. Clearing her throat she began her introduction.
“This poem shows personification, the literary use of giving human-like traits to an animal. The poem is called “Liberation,” written and composed by me, Christine Cullman.”
They audience clapped. Christine took a deep breath. She thought of pleasing the audience. There she began to say the first stanza.
“Freedom comes at a cost
A cost most of us cannot afford
A life free from chains and cages
A life that birds experience in the air
We tremble beneath the earth
Bound by rules, burned by the hearth
Here, I’m on my knees bleeding
Don’t stop—I’m here praying for freedom
Freedom can by taken away
A caged bird is an example
Liberation can be shielded from the best of us
And the worst of us
You are my mirror—don’t stop—
Here on my knees, I’m praying
I’m crying
And what I see, reflecting back at me
Is nothing but someone who is chained?
And not free, but sad and cold
You see the footsteps
In the sand, washed away by waters over time
You see the raindrops
Coming down slowly, unbound from our word
Free from our touch, our rules
Only to see that we are only fools
Chasing after the wind, chasing after time
So elusive and cold, comes life, crashing down
Comes bondage and pain
We tremble beneath the earth
Bound by rules, burned by the hearth
Here, I’m on my knees bleeding
We are our own mirrors
Don’t stop—I’m here, praying from freedom
Who cannot remember?
When are my wishes granted?
If I can call back, and here I’m sleeping
I’ll never come back
Freedom can by taken away
A caged bird is an example
Liberation can be shielded from the best of us
And the worst of us
You are my mirror—don’t stop—
Here on my knees, I’m praying
I’m crying
And what I see, reflecting back at me
I am my own mirror
Don’t stop praying from me—for us, for ‘we’”
Christine took a deep and then closed off with, “This was the poem, Liberation.” She walked down from the podium and walked out, almost angry. Max ran after her.
“Are you alright?”
“No I am not. I feel emptiness inside of me after I composed that poem. Something is missing, but I can’t really remember.”
“Well a good night’s sleep will do you good, head for the house okay?”
Christine nodded and walked off.
But she wasn’t heading back to the house.