Red Tigress

The sun shines down on her submerged face in the water, projecting itself as lines drawn in serenity. The lines are intertwined, forming a composition of complexity. It is like drawing the lines of a tigress by a fine pen of light; a pen that is determined to expose her inner wilderness in opposition to her blissful face. The water is so clear and tranquil, projecting her inner peace. She defines complexity along with simplicity; a combination only possible when peace mixes with wilderness. If she is to be defined, she is to be a perfect definition of paradox.

Her red, short hair is just as free and graceful as the gentle water that is carrying it, allowing it to float on its aurora colored surface, resulting from the refraction of the sun light in it. The colors cover her as well, making her a composition of light colors and red, a whole world of vibrant red. Her lips are vivid and lively, just as her hair is; a reflection of her flame, that is never extinguished.

She needed this, this serenity, this disconnection from a vile world. She needed to expose her disgust and get free of the negative energy that surrounds her. She is a lively person, not to be bent or broken, but in a world filled with villainy, she has to be a villain. Getting tired of suppressing her innocence that wears off a little every time she gets into the dilemma of existence, she decided to resort to purging. A sort of baptism that connects her with her inner soul of happiness and the innocence that she loses in such corrupted universe. She chose the purist element of life, and the most unpredictable; Water.

Water for her resembled life. There is no green land without water. Fire cannot be defined as ruthless without its opposite; the gentle, graceful water. The wind does not grow into a storm without rain. Water is the core of everything. It is innocence and purity combined with ruthlessness and rage. It is the most controversial element amongst the rest. Water embodied her, and she embodied it.

Every time she goes into her territory of purity and pain, she shivers as a person who is about to die but comes back to life miraculously and unannounced. She is like a person who has seen himself end, but suddenly he is up on his feet, watching his moments of death as a tape playing in agony and fear. She sees her life as a tape that ends so soon, even though recording it took ages of torturous splendors of fear and joy. She gets attacked by a stream of a deserved-to-be-mourned-for memories. She seeks purification, but it is never without a price. There is always a price that she has to pay to be able to reach back to her true moments of joy. It is a price that she has to pay to be able to reach back to her villainy, subdued by rage and vengeance. After all, no one can be vicious without being innocent at first; he wouldn’t tell the difference unless he knew where the separation line lies.

A tigress she is, in her fierceness, monstrosity, persistence and grace. She only attacks to survive; an instinct rooted in humans and animals alike. You can’t blame the darkness of the world on her, nor can you blame her on her twisted ways towards attaining survival. She is the Queen of the wilderness, as the Lion is only the king. She observes, hides, lurks then seeks, attacking her enemies and her preys alike. After all, preys are only a necessary evil that doesn’t match the fire leaching in her veins as she does what she does to sustain her durability and conceal her frailty.

After every blood bath she pursues, she goes to her embracer and her pure reflection projected on a blurry surface of hopes to be attained, farfetched salvation that she dreams of every night when she goes to sleep. She is so consumed by the innocence that fights every night in the back of her unconscious mind, yet she forgets about every day when she is awake and conscious. The water is the only way to mend her fractures and her wounds. It shows her a path towards salvation as it paves for her the road towards hell. It is all a momentary feeling of relief only to ensure an eternal war against suffocation.

In her gracefulness, there is pain. In her light, there is treachery. In every breath she is unable to breathe, she is alive. In every breath she inhales, there is a burning fire only extinguished by blood and death. The light that shines on her is only a comfort she seeks but she cannot reach, for even when she is purified, she is blind to the rays that make her grow in beauty. She is always closing her eyes, allowing herself to feel human, every time the water touches her death stained skin. She is weak in her ultimate moments of strength and might. She is a woman only vibrant in red; the colour of death, love and blood. She is only like any other woman, who is alive in red; the color of warmth, intimacy and danger.