A short story about how Men unintentionally let Women identify them as Men. |
And she will look upon him with incongruousness & servility For the being that stood before her was not a man in her eyes But rather the empty silhouette of a man, whose inner fire has long been snuffed out The look she casts implies all that she feels, and wielding a frozen sword of her own truth, she approaches to strike down what little spark remains. "What manner of man is this?" she hissed, drawing closer. "You appear as a man, your discourse is that of a man, and your disposition is most assuredly that of a formidable man. So what is this repugnance I sense?" The silhouette's expression rapidly changed to what can only be discerned as confusion and curiousness. "Tell me, my lady" the silhouette started calmly. "You say I appear as a man in every external aspect, my appearance, my speech and my bearing. So why do you encroach in such a hostile manner?" "You know not what a man is!" she bellowed upstarting. "If you were truly a man, I would not be as abhorred by your presence as I am. You foster equality instead of dominance, the internal instead of the external, laughter instead of tears, companionship instead of remaining estranged, love instead of hate, compatibility instead of materialism. No earthen woman will take you as a companion while these flaws ooze from you like excrement. Neither beast nor man...you are nothing!" She raises her sword with an afflicting gesture, ready to bring it down upon the silhouette. "My lady" the silhouette began with a smile. "There is something here you don't quite grasp, so please, allow me to inform you". The silhouette unsheathes a flaming sword with a single expeditious gesture and deflects the womans incoming attack. "When I love I love without reserve, when I hate I hate with a fire that consumes me whole". The silhouette casually side steps as the frozen sword comes thrusting forward with full force. "To focus on the external is simplistic and vain, while the internal is a glorious mystery waiting to be uncovered". Shards of ice flake off the frozen sword as the flaming sword parries and counters every attack with a calm ferocity. "Where I find tears I transform to laughter, for is not laughter preferable to tears? I choose to be a master of my companions inner workings, than to be estranged to all about them while distance between us spreads like a plague. I find this point to be blatantly obvious, but is not a compatibility of souls of higher precedence than a compatibility of riches or status? "In my mind, any being that would dare call himself a man would hold similar values high in place. Not the wretched beast that you describe that can so easily disguise himself as man. Your speculative opinion of manhood weighs less than daylight, and its the true man who puts no stock in the sheepish opinions of those around him." "One final point I would like to stress to you, my lady...". A loud crash echo's through the night as the frozen sword plummets to the ground, followed shortly thereafter by the dismembered arm that was wielding it, embers sparking off the severed end. "You have never been, nor will you ever be...a man. You will always be woman, so pray tell me...how in this world or any other, would you have the first idea as to what a man is supposed to be?!" The flaming sword is brought down full force to bring this encounter to an end. The silhouette wipes the drying entrails from his flaming sword before sheathing it. He turns and heads toward the northern star, and as he walked the solidity and form returned to his face, and the fire reignited within. |