Black Hearts

My reading life is interesting. I was thinking about books that make me feel. Heart fluttering and breath catching. I think of the Gods and Monsters series by Wulf Francu Godgluck. I like the way his writing makes me feel. The burning of fire in my veins as I read. Do you have a book like that in your arsenal? Maybe more than one book. One that you know for sure will light the flames of your soul.

 

Often, the literary greats come to mind when we think about emotions and reading. I love Shakespeare and Alfred, Lord Tennyson. They make me feel, but they don’t appeal to the ultimate cruelty of life feeling. No adrenaline to be found. Gods and Monsters is raw, dirty, and bloody. There is beauty in all those things.

 

When I read Wulf’s books, I feel so evil, he appeals to that part of me that just wants to love and at the same time kill every enemy in my path. He breaks my heart with prose of love that if you aren’t careful, it will be missed. In that heartbreak I feel the black and icy chaos in my mind rise to the occasion wanting revenge. Yet I wait. I wait to see if he will provide redemption. It is self-indulgent to think that the redemption is for me. I want it to be.

 

In this I wonder, is there redemption for the past? Can we provide absolution where there is none? Love doesn’t conquer all and Wulf proves this time and again. But, in that little glimmer of hope, where love still resides perhaps absolution is there. I realize that I am not a merciful. I am benevolent when the mood strikes me. In Wulf’s writing he is the same.

 

Mercy is for the weak. Benevolence is for the strong to wield.

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