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Reprise

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It's an interesting thing, isn't it, that a great majority of classic literature features the triumph of vengeance. Hamlet, the Count of Monte Cristo, the Odyssey, and other great classics, always share the theme of vengeance. And that always means one thing; death.

It always does, doesn't it? Within our deepest, animal minds, we desire death. We crave it. We cheer as Odysseus murders the suitors of his wife, Penelope. We smile and rain praises upon Dumas as Mrs. Villefort kills her own son. Even The Lion King, a movie based upon the classic play Hamlet, features the brutal murder of vengeance.

Vengeance is such a dark, enticing word. We make light of it with superheroes, we laugh as we watch children's fantasies play God with the lives of the innocent. We give not a second thought to the true meaning of revenge. We don't see it as we go about our days, ignorant, trapped within the mannequin shells society has forced upon us. We do not see the the stirrings of blackness tugging at our heels, we do not feel the puppet strings wired around our arms. We do not see the monsters.

And why should we? You, sitting here, absorbing this story, do not see them. You are bored, waiting for the blood, aren't you? You, who seeks out true fear, true terror, do not perceive what I say. You fear creatures that are supernatural. You fear demons, spirits trapped within video-games, walking among human world. You fear knife-wielding boys with glass-glow smiles. You fear things that are not human, things that you do not understand. You do not fear me.

And why should you, really? I am not supernatural. I am not even remotely intimidating. I am just a human girl, not the kind you see in horror movies, not with a white nightgown and black hair that hides my face. I'm not dead. I'm human.

But then why do I write this, you ask, if I have nothing scary to tell? If there is no ghost, no demon, no creatures or haunted video game or even the man in the mirror who doesn't quite mimic what you're doing?

When you think of fear, what do you think of? You don't think of your past, am I right? You don't think of the girl or boy you rejected. You don't think of your own heart. You don't think of the people who hate you.

You don't think of me. You don't think of the little girl with glasses and her dark, curly black hair in pigtails who cradles her broken heart every night, wondering why you hate me. Wondering why you don't see me. Wondering what I could do to make you suffer the way you made me suffer.

You don't think of reprisal, do you?

It's an interesting thing, isn't it, that a great majority of classic literature features the triumph of vengeance. Hamlet, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Odyssey, and other great classics, always share the theme of vengeance.

And that always means one thing; death.

Think about it.

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