The Nature of the Beast

Others.  They move among us,  yet we do not see them.  

They wade through this sea of swarming humanity.  Waters which, ebbing and flowing, part miraculously,  finding another course. No spoken command, simply an unconscious recognition that the merest lapping contact would pollute irrevocably.  Yet we do not see them.

Their faces, featureless, blurred and indistinct, pass unnoticed and instantly forgotten, leaving nothing but an inexplicable feeling of disquiet.   Their eyes, missing souls, seek out the dark corners of ours, recognising the darkness within, enviously watching the brief but bright fire within us, whilst they burn, long and cold leaving nothing but ash. Yet still we do not see.

They have seen the ends of days and the valley they walk through has no shadows, only death. They are dark angels and they know no fear.  Where they tread, addiction and betrayal grow, despair and chaos thrive.  Bridging the gap between their world and ours, they touch lives, leaving no marks, but initiating a slow spiral descent towards an inevitable, apocalyptic end.  Yet still we do not see them.

In isolation, they prey on the weak, feeding on misery like carrion. Offering neither salvation nor redemption, they exsanguinate life.  Recognising their destructive power they avoid contact with their own.  Attracted by the stench of addiction and betrayal, they come.  Unable to resist,  they congregate, gorging on a feast of manipulation and exploitation. 

That is the nature of the beast.  I see them.