Vivir sin sentir sería un sinsentido.

Vivir sin sentir sería un sinsentido.
The flower that blooms last is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Sunday 24 August 2014

Power.

His knack of knowing was immeasurable. He was partially cognizant about his abysmal wit, but never ceased to accept it with exquisite modesty. There were times when I myself would be tricked into thinking he was thoroughly ordinary. But he was obstinate, and stubborn, and resourceful, and his power-loving nature eventually drove him into mediocrity. And hence why.

My little shop was nothing but a discrete store, cleverly smuggled in the adumbration of one of many bustling streets. Its tedious flair warned away those who shallowly overlooked what others could perceive as spellbinding. For this was no ordinary shop and he, of many, knew it well.

He knocked twice on my door, and walked in with further ado. We exchanged tentative glances, and a few trivial words. His voice was husky and melodious, rich in lure and charisma, and a rush of fierce anticipation overwhelmed me as I tried my very best to look fearless.

His bag was burdened with money as he left. And I treasured what he had delivered in return with relentless infatuation. It was mine now.

My presumptions were utterly correct, and he returned and hour before the third day succumbed to darkness. I gratified his faith on me, and urged him to cherish such loyalty, as I boosted his ego with flattering words poisoned with my own ambition. I too was developing a thirst for glory, a thirst so powerful, a thirst so colossal, it was less than a piece of cake for me to act persuasive.

By the end of the tenth day, my knack of knowing was immeasurable. I was partially cognizant about my abysmal wit, but knew how to accept it with exquisite modesty.

And he - he who sold it to me - had nothing... but money. Thus surrendering to the power-loving nature which, as I correctly discerned - drove him into mediocrity.

And I myself, wondered fervently what to do with the immense pool of global expertise that fool had handed me with childish innocence. If only I could sell a slight parcel of it to that gentle looking fellow in that shop across the street...
Addah Monoceros.

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