earlier this morning, before the first caffeine of the day, someone put a laptop down in front of me, with a text editor window open on it and asked me to just type, to see what I thought of the set up. This is what my brain came up with when faced with a blank screen and no requests, uneditted and unpolished. I have no idea what this says about me!

"Why, yes, I am, I am, I am," said the spaniel to the flop eared rabbit,"Your death I am, your death and your salvation, high above the stars,and deep inside my guts, the different fates of soul and blood. So come here, little rabbit, do not fight. Rather let me take you gently, one swift crack of the spine and you won't feel a thing, but if you run, oh, little rabbit, if you run, don't let the satin silk of my ears fool you. I can run and chase and when I catch you this velvet soft mouth of mine will return to an older use, ripping your stomach open, your throat, the whole, soft down of your underside, torn and dripping blood, and your heart will hammer, pouring yet more blood onto the ground, and your lungs will heave, and it will hurt, little rabbit, hurt worse than any trap or snare or nightmare, so, come here, little rabbit, and let me kill you gently, let me take care of your final moments, let me feed myself and set you free."

The rabbit gazed back at the spaniel with wide dark eyes, and said nothing.

"So you agree," said the spaniel, creeping closer on half-bent legs, muzzle to the ground, snuffling for the scent of terror and finding nothing.

"But, we are pets, are we not?" said the rabbit. "Too well bred, too well fed, for this red in tooth and claw conversation. I find it rather vulgar."

The spaniel stopped.

The spaniel flopped to the ground, felled by the rabbit's quiet, calm voice, and the question itself, which troubled the spaniel.

"I am, why, yes, I am a pet, a well bred, well fed example of man's best friend, bred for beauty, for this golden fur, these silken curls, this wide, appealing, brow. Bred for gentleness also - soft mouth, soft heart. I can carry an egg without cracking it, take a child's hand in my mouth and only make her laugh, but little rabbit, you forget."

"I forget," said the rabbit, with incredulous emphasis on the pronoun

"You forget," said the spaniel, bouncing to four paws, earnest and open hearted. "You forget that under the plush of your fur and the length of your ears, your ancestors were prey, and you forget that, under the curls and the softness of my ears, right down in the marrow of my bones, I am a wolf."

"Oh", said the rabbit, and, although he didn't move, when the spaniel snuffled a second breath the air was rich with fear. The spaniel's heart jumped in his chest, and - pounce, grab, rip, shake - rich blood flowed through his soft, well-bred mouth.

"High above the stars,and deep inside my guts, little rabbit, and I thank you for reminding me that I am a well-groomed wolf."

From: [identity profile] cbpotts.livejournal.com

This is really something. It seems simple on the surface, but it's not, really. There's stuff here, and I can hear the song of this, already: earthy and rich and deep.

I do so want to lick your brain, some days.

From: [identity profile] ephemera-tales.livejournal.com

it occurs to me that maybe this is a version of the frog/scorpion or the old lady/snake story, but with less blame-y-ness of the rabbit? Or less self awareness on behalf of the spaniel?

From: [identity profile] cbpotts.livejournal.com

It's definitely a story, I think, about either knowing who you are or realizing who you are: the spaniel's making a journey here -- the rabbit, on the other hand, thinks it has arrived.

This has stuck in my head, for what it's worth: you've got a haunting, elegaic tone here.
ext_12410: (Default)

From: [identity profile] tsuki-no-bara.livejournal.com

this is like a fairy tale or a fable. very nice, very rhythmic. "too well bred, too well fed."

From: [identity profile] ephemera-tales.livejournal.com

thank you! I was having fun with the rhythms (I think, when I started out, I was expecting to go in a Seuss type direction, and then death turned up ...)

From: [identity profile] ephemera-tales.livejournal.com

woops - yes, I did. (trying out the new laptop's keyboard made for interesting *new* typos - I missed that one. Thank you!)

and thank you!

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