Whenever I close my eyes, I see an African rainforest and in it, a powerful, graceful, lithe black panther.
He lives in the wilderness.
Yes.
He is wild.
But he is not a savage.
Zoologists say that he is a carnivore, but he is actually a flesh-eater.
The panther is an esthete.
He came to this world after a black wind inseminated a sizzling, scorching flame.
His bloodstream races through the corridors of his body like an unstoppable mountain rapid.
At the same time, the panther is capable of beastly atrocities and of a childlike tenderness.
For his blurry nature, a cage would be like a tomb.
There is a cyclical action that upsets him, terribly.
Every morning, the sun shines on his head, then, on his back, and finally, it does not shine on him anymore at all.
It disappears at the end of the day, giving way to the complete darkness.
Tomorrow—it's the same.
The day after tomorrow—the same again.
When the dread and trepidation become unbearable, he scratches himself, dips his claw in his own blood and writes poems.
***
A/N: Theme song: "Alannah Myles: Black Velvet."
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Tiny Tales | ✔️
Short StoryThis book is a collection of numerous short stories I have created, both mini and midi ones, written in the period of the past twenty years. Some of them are award-winning entries in various micronarrative competitions. Others were adapted with the...
