Feral Redemption

There are times, recently, that I would tear my heart from my chest. The sanctity of life is sometimes not worth the pain of suffering. No, I do not speak of the pain of the flesh. I do not make reference to that subtle difference that one of my kind has between the realms of pleasure and torment. I refer to the soul shaking murder that one does to their own heart when they steel themselves to an action when no other recourse is available. The act of hardening one's heart, guarding one's soul and setting into motion a course that leads to absolute damnation, is one which no one person should need to start. There is humanity in us all. Whether we are predator or prey, vampire or human, we all have a sense of right and wrong. Whether the individual follows a religion that bespeaks pacifism or one that speaks of vengeance, they all base their precepts on the reaction to a given situation. Yet, no man, mortal or not, preaches acts of aggression in any other way than as retaliation. So how does a person set forth with such a course? How does one close off their heart and with complete apathy to the feelings of another, completely and utterly obliterate them? How does one become an unfeeling well of callousness and set their sights on the utter destruction of all that is held dear by another person?

My course in life is set. I understand now, those things that I must do in order to satisfy the unquenched desires that draw to a battering crescendo within my soul. My spirit is not alone. It is not uncoupled. A tiny spark, a mirror of my own, exists. An act of faith, an act of love, all that was required simply was an act of giving. Life blossomed anew from the toil of my soul. Created out of love, a child was born into this world. A new life, it is sacred to me. His desires, needs, his care and health are tantamount in my mind. Nothing else in this world matters at this moment more than protecting him. Whether I stand before a whirling dervish of death to protect his mortal coil or surround him with my essence to ward against attacks of the soul, I will face death and utter destruction in order to see to his wellbeing. With the skin stripped from my bones, flesh falling away in great chunks, born away on a tide of welling blood, I will persist in my vigil. With my soul torn from my mind and ripped asunder, dripping lifelessly back into the ether from which it came, I will stand my watch. Even in death, I will protect that child.

Life is balance. Action begets reaction. Positive begets negative. The same coin, with two sides, exists in all matters. And it exists here as well. The protection of one thing held sacred begets the destruction of another. My resolve is such that I am willing to destroy all that is held dear by another in order to satisfy the needs of the one. My son will not suffer. Others will. Setting the mind to action, hardening the heart and stripping the soul bare of all compassion are not things that can be willfully done. It takes an outside force. It takes the stimulus of a grave situation to bear witness to such a thing. I have heard tales of men doing unspeakable things during unspeakable times. Soldiers confined in camps during war who commit atrocities against other soldiers, a soccer team turned cannibalistic when their plane went down in the Andes, these are horrendous acts commited by men of discipline and fortitude, gracious and caring. Yet when all is said and done, we find we are one step, one act, from entering barbarism. We are on the verge at all times of stripping away our moral codes and reducing ourselves to feral beasts that prey upon our own kith. I have been stripped of mine. I am NOW that very feral beast.

I have resolved myself to a walking hell. My heart has been broken. My soul has been crushed. But, I have been reborn. Like a tiger stalking through the jungle, I seek my prey. Like a viper, scales glinting with a basalt sheen, I lie in wait to strike. I am armed, both with knowledge and a sense of vengeance born of a preternatural spirit of protection. Tread lightly when you pass. Move quietly through the underbrush for I may strike. I am vengeance. I am retribution.