The Clutch

Again the Creature has come.

Standing before me licking its teeth.

A Wraith of a Griffin.

Lean of sinew.

Rigid and sharp.

Quills not feathers.

Malicious not loyal.

Colored in flame.

Smelling of acid.

Bony spined arms

Uncoiling from the Mantis-like chest.

Ending each in a claw of nine unbending talons.

Long fingers like the shards of lightning struck wood.

Click…click…clicking as they sniff out anxiety.

My anxiety.

From yet another failed expectation.

The failed expectation that calls to this demon.

This Wraith to which I am bound.

Tied with a chain too short.

Never have I evaded its grasp.

Condemned always to its ill embrace.

With a single hungry claw

The Wraith captures the whole of my gut.

I stand trembling in its grasp.

Living now moment to moment

As the closing grip spews vitriol from me.

The talons move closer together

Slowly shredding my insides.

Anxiety, though, does not render like flesh.

And so collapses toward the center of itself…

No!…Myself.

Forming a black sphere of Doubt, Need, & Panic.

Tighter and tighter does the fell Griffin squeeze.

Blacker and purer does the sphere become.

Until I gestate with Feebleness and Regret.

I fear my stress reaved body

Will not survive the birth.

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