MIRABELLA
I stroke the white horse I am riding lovingly before getting off.
we are currently at the river, the one called flowing souls. Such an eerie name for a beautiful river.
I move towards the bank, where the hands of the water caress the soft bosom of the land.
I feel the water rush forward and stop just in front of me, kissing the tips of my shoes.
I close my eyes and think of nothing but happiness.
The first time I went hunting with him, my jayjay. The feel of his hands on my body, the fire in his eyes when they roam over my body, that lust, that desire.
The way he laughs, the way he adores me, that is happiness.
Just then, I catch a weak scent of blood in the air. It is appetizing, my stomach churns and makes loud noises, and my legs take off of their own will in search of food.
There's blood everywhere. I am covered in blood. A man lay in front of me pale as ash, his hands clutching his neck, eyes bulged out in terror.
But I feel no guilt, none at all.
