I cleave the building.
Split it in two.
It crumbles, the giant skyscraper. Creaking like an ancient door, cracking like lightning. All of its stories falling, echoing thunder. The building roars as it falls, and people run from it. Completely terrified.
But I don’t stop.
I don’t stop.
I throw another bolt of lightning. Shake the earth with a kick. Yell, and the foundations all shake.
I am not done destroying, not yet.
I won’t be done for quite some time.
This must all come crashing down, you see. These terrors and raging beasts. The creatures that carve out destruction, that lay waste to each other and the beasts of this earth.
I won’t stop until they’re all gone.
Until all this ends.
Until there is nothing but a clean slate left.
This all must end. Continue reading “Beginning”
I’ll never forget the last words of that man. The one who stood above the rest. Who called himself a man, while others claimed him a hero. He was the type of man that would stoop to tie your shoe for you, even if you were older than five. The type of guy who didn’t mind picking trash out of parking lots, even if no one asked. He was the type of guy who listened before he spoke, thought before he acted, and only raised his voice to shout encouragement.
It was only one word.
In the end though, that’s all I needed to him from him. Continue reading “Lion Rising”
Power is not about strength.
Nobody told him that.
Nobody told him when he was training. When he ran till his legs broke. Pulled till his muscles collapsed. Till he broke every fiber and bone down into nothing, just to build it all up again.
When he filled his skin with stacks upon stacks of muscles. When he transformed himself from man to weapon. When he gave up his last breath for a chance at something more.
Nobody told him.
I think that, even now, he might not know.
Power isn’t about strength.
What endures more?
Or a lion?
Continue reading “Empowered”
Stretching is an act of self-preservation. Of working muscles. Making them perform. Tearing them—ever so slightly—to make them stronger. Better.
To stretch farther.
To move better.
All I want is to stretch my reach. Continue reading “Reach For the Earth”
“Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but, I promise you: I’m not a spirit of the forest. And I’m not a bear.”
The Wildman looked at me suspiciously. As if I were a fish on a like claiming to be a bird.
The physical imagery probably wasn’t that far off.
In that moment, I was dangling upside down by my ankle. Having gotten my foot caught in a pressure-trigger trap made of rope.
That was, actually, why the Wildman was so suspicious of me.
Continue reading “Forest Hand”
People are running away from me, screaming. Scrambling to get away. To get across the street, to get inside a building, to get away. Their panic makes cars screech and honk and then peel out, away from the sidewalk where I’m walking. Taking my casual stroll.
Even if I’m lost. Even if all I want right now is some directions. Even if the sirens are closing in.
It just means that they know who I am now. That they know what I’ve done. That I’m being taken seriously.
Finally. Continue reading “Beast of Myself”