I am not a freak -Well perhaps a little- I am just a writer. :)
My soul. For now, it is barren. I feel the warmth of the Sun, as it filters down from the canopy above. Sadly, it does little to lighten my spirit. Searching the shadows, I find nothing. I see potential prey scamper off into the underbrush, and I can sense the racing hearts of fear. I yearn, but ending that life would do little to embellish mine. Besides, my belly is full. I hunger for something more. I turn slowly toward a fallen log covered with moss. My fur quivers, and my ears feel the light breeze of the day. What am I to do? My claws grip the rotting wood, and for that moment, it becomes my throne. I sit with an air of arrogance. Blinking slowly, I tilt my head toward a scent in the wind. My eyes focus. There, in the distance...