Phoenix

Banquet

There are things in life one does not have power over, time, life and most of all death. Each individual is gifted with a limited time period. Karma isn't the only bitch, life can be too. Life can be cruel and bloodthirsty it's a continuous rat race. Contrasting to this life can be beautiful and bewitching. In short, Life is bipolar, you got dealt a set of cards and by the Goddess, you needed to play your hand just right.

The world is full of questions. The answers to My debate until the right time some call it fate others call it God, my race calls it The Ka Goddess. The Ka Goddess, why was she always the one who dies so easily. Fire the element most mortals feared, but yet it was so fragile. It's been nearly a millennium since the last Ka Goddess was reincarnated. Why you ask. That's simple, fate is a stubborn little shit. If all four Moon Goddesses were to be alive at the same time. The mortals would enjoy a time of utter bliss and happiness, but where is the fun in that? The world without any wars, tragedy... only love and bliss...

Sadly we 'monsters' like our in fighting. It's the age-old enemies, werewolves' hates vampires, vampires' hates werewolves. Demons hate angels, angels hates demons. Vampires dislike demons, demons dislikes vampires. Werewolves dislike angels, angels dislikes werewolves. You get the picture. Nobody likes anyone, we even fight within our own races. So much for being better than humans. We kill more of our own than they do.

Here I sit Leah Gunnolf on a boulder in the middle of the forest early in the morning while watching the sunrise while feeling sorry for myself and writing in my journal. Life's great ain't it?

Megan my lovely twin got blessed by the moon Goddess in abundance. She was popular, beautiful and what I envied most a true werewolf (unlike me). My father adored her, to him she was the most precious gem on earth while I was a measly piece of gum on his shoe. You see Megan shifted at the age of 14 which makes her exceptionally special. For you see for a female to shift at that age is unheard of thus igniting the preposterous believe that my mother and father have of her inheriting the Goddess Gene as my father was directly descended from them. Before Megan's shift, my father was a non-believer. He believed that the Goddesses were worthless, to be fair I think the old man was pissed because he was born with a dick. You see males cannot inherit the Goddess gene. Something my dear old father absolutely loves, fighting, bloodshed, war. Now he deems it as an opportunity to use my sister as a puppet master would cleanse the earth of what he sees as the foulest things on earth, first being roughness and the second, those who oppose him. No wonder he hopes the Ka Goddess gets reincarnated by my lovely sister. He'd hate a peaceful time. To my father, I am a weakling, just because I would rather read, or paint, then trains to kill someone. Why can't we just fucking get over old rivalries!? But sadly we werewolves are too stubborn to swallow our pride make peace.

To be honest my father wasn't always like this. I had a pretty normal fairy tail life growing up. My father loved us both equally and I and my sister were inseparable, now we can barely be in the same room as each other. This all changed when my mother died... she died trying to get away from rogues that wanted to kidnap my sister and I. To this day I'm not too sure why they wanted us if asked my father would become enraged and tell us not to speak of it. Her death was hard on him, mentally and physically, he hated everything. Well up until Megan turned. He still has hate in his heart I can feel it. It comes off not only as a foul stench, but waves of energy. Hate... It's a pretty strong word, isn't it? In this case, it wasn't often used, but his actions implied it. He hated me, he hated rogues he hated it all. He is so blinded by the lust of power he doesn't see what he's doing to our family, the little one we have.

Losing a loved one especially a parent takes a toll on you. In my opinion, it's probably the hardest thing on earth one can endure. The feeling of loss will forever linger, I see that in my father every day. It never get's better you only become accustomed to it. The loss is like a rubber band that the little bitch called Life stretches between her hands. It stretches and stretches till it snaps. That's when the memories, the feelings and everything, returns in a blink of an eye just to remember that that person isn't there and you relive their death all over again. Some accept the loss and they move on, like me, others forever stay in that dark pit of despair rotting never growing, never changing staying stagnant all their lives, like my father.