We weren’t ready when the wolves came.
In the beginning they were civil, wearing masks of innocence to cover their terrible fangs.
Skin as pale as the moon, hair fairer than sand sparking in the sunlight, and eyes as blue and bottomless as the sky was what my great grandfather used to always said, as had his father before him. To us they were strange, more so than anything else, but also beautiful.
Like a curious herd we received the sole predator, slowly but eventually.
Still, it wasn’t long until the masks fell, and little by little the stench of blood thirst filled the air.
First they took our warriors. The few that had returned were bloodied by gun powered jaws.
Then it was the children and the elders. Any who were unable to withstand …show more content…
They lived by the law of claw and fang which taught them to kill, steal and conquer.
However, still, they are the more civilized race, elegant, sophisticated, all robed up in fine dresses and suits. Nothing like my ancestors who roamed the lands bare and free.
We were made to dress like them, to behave like them, to be them. A lie which costed me my childhood.
Many a time have I looked in the mirror and wept. Wept as my skin was dark as if covered in the dirt they step on, hair black and messy as if burnt by the fire of hell and eyes a dull brown as if no one bothered to give them life upon my creation. Wept as I wasn’t pure. Wept as I wasn’t white.
Like the black and white papers which advertised it, the promises made to assimilate us were cheap and lifeless. Despite all that, the ones like me who’s inside have been made to contrast with the outside, it was worth a fortune.
Underneath the mask of beauty, hidden from the eyes of others and their own is the true form of the beast. Fierce, frightening and feral.
As a child I once found a creature like no other.
It wasn’t until years later, till I realized that the majestic creature didn’t belong here in the isolated island of Australia , it never