Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereI looked into the mirror
And for the first time
For a long time
Saw what you see
Then understood
In color
True Technicolor
What a stupid fool
I must seem.
Imagining Myself somehow special
Significant beyond a payday
Or a future
That I can give so easily
Without a moments pause
To consider reason
Or happiness
Or tomorrow
When you will leave
And all I have
Is gone
Forever
He stares back
The devil
My creator
As He always does
Trapped
In purgatory
In My memory
Held sedentary
Aging as I do
Dying as I die
To be passed
In due time
To My seed
And theirs.
I remember
He cooked for Me
Crab under cheese
One Saturday
In His small apartment
In His loneliness
Reaching out
Hoping to make something
Out of nothing
To heal
What time had erased
So utterly.
Laying quietly
Listing to the storm
Erupting over nothing
Except impatience
With a world that didn't care
Beyond the daily tasks it demanded
He was a great man
A brave hero
Fighter of demons
Large and small
For King
Then Queen
For ancestors waiting
And descendants coming
Without question
Always dutiful
Forever watchful
A fool.
He hugged Me
Whispered
Warned Me
The time will come
You will be the guardian
The sentry
I laughed
Nervously
Unused to His emotion
The tears that fell alarmingly
From cold gray eyes
That Wolf possessed
Shuddered inwardly
And pulled away
Deleting weakness
Obliterating need
Refusing love
Or compassion
For the monster
I would become
Eventually
Unquestionably
And later
Much later
The last time
These eyes met those
I weakened
Just enough to feel
Rekindle a connection
One generation to another
Before distance
And time
Removed everything
Surgically
Forever
Without end
I wept
The day He died
Not for Him
He deserved better
But for Me
For My loss
Selfishly
Predictably
For the heritage
That descended
Like an iron crown
Upon My brow
And meant suffering
An ocean of sorrow
For all the sins
Of all the Ones
That watched
And waited
For My presence
At the table
I nod now
A scant acknowledgement
Each morning
Each evening
When the time calls
For medicants
To keep this feral beast
Alive a little longer
And he smiles
Sometimes winks
Does a silly dance
To amuse Me
But I ignore Him
The Devil
Creator of
The Spawn