The Gargoyle’s Beauty Pageant

 “Imagination is
the food for the soul. Feed it and feed it big.”

I am First Princess

Imagine a mammoth colossus of a monster with tight bumpy skin covered
in dry ashen scabs, a bent uneven back resembling a shoddy cliff, impossibly stretched
arms protruding from equally impossibly lumpy shoulders. Imagine a shadowed
face pasted into the never-ending folds of a neck of muscle, fat and excess
skin, just hanging badly, sadly, screaming of abandon, odium and disease. From
the shadows of the gravel face are two glowering lambent eyes like dying
blowfish at the bottom of an abyss in an ocean even godless sea pirates would
fear to sail. The nostrils are mere asymmetrical slashes like fresh war wounds
rendered with no precision, above a mouth of shrivelled lips flopped inwards
like the lips of a geriatric with dentures.

I are beautiful-er

Such a monster would be a sight hard to take in such is the
hideousness and contempt that is invoked by such a sight. But there is a
certain magnetic power, an enchanting seduction, an internal uncoiling
slithering of sensations to creatures so cruelly disabled, twisted, wronged,
almost punished by nature for untold sins of a life perhaps once lived
unwisely, in another time in another form. It is hard not to be captivated by such
ugliness if not for the obscure aesthetics that confuse the eye, or perhaps the
mind, then definitely for the feelings and sensations invoked in the eyes of
the beholder. Comprehension becomes painful because one cannot fully fathom
such a thing, such a creation that at once seems a waste, glut, unacceptable
and fearsome.

Just call me Handsome Ugly

It almost makes the onlooker mad at themselves for perceiving of such
a thing, for if one took their eyes off of it, would it cease to exist? Well at
least in the eyes of that one onlooker that gave in to the shame of looking
away there would be the illusion of making the thing, the monster, the
abomination go away. But the denial of such an act is as ironic as it is
reprehensible because to look away and pretend such a thing does not exist is
to reveal the inner monster within the onlooker, the inner critical, clutching
egotistical, fundamental characteristic of being a human being. It is natural
and it is socially acceptable although not spoken. Strangely enough, although
it is what most would do it is still frowned upon by the majority, because in
principle humans shouldn’t do that but in reality they do.

So would you kill such a monster or would you lend it a helping hand?
Ignoring it and looking away doesn’t do much for making it cease to exist as
this grotesque caricature of divine judgement will always leave a searing
imagine in your mind’s eye, burning rich molten red, messily attaching lead
weights with hooks on your conscious and exposing you to your own
dishonourable, yet especially human reactions. There is no avoiding contact
with such a phenomenon because it is like a haunting, a collective haunting of
humanity. Lending a helping hand doesn’t much help either as how do you lend a
helping hand to something you fail to comprehend? Did it in fact ask for your
help? Or are you trying to serve your own worthless sense of fulfilment, trying
to wash away your perceived sins, the effects of social conditioning?

err..won't you lend me a gun?

Well I am that monster that filthy fleshy beast, that poisonous
existence that penetrates all levels of sensation. Don’t pity me or try to
understand me. Look or don’t look it doesn’t much matter to me.  I will continue to scour the surface of
forgotten worlds, and like those worlds themselves I am quite content to be
forgotten. What you don’t like will be my legacy and what you don’t teach will
be my doctrine. Every step I take every breathe I take is in recognition of my
pilgrimage. I will get there without your help I will get there with the powers
you do not see. I am what I am and I would not or could not be anything else.
From the nothingness you give me I create an existence that satisfies my soul.
But beware and know this: my soul is always on the feed…


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