Daylight Savings

Sometimes it was a lot easier to be lost than to know where you were actually going. Maybe it was better, it seemed to give a sense of wonder and just a bit of fear. The feeling of fear was often useful and kept one on their toes, more aware of their surrounding when compared to an area that the beast knows. That is how the white creature felt now, carefully making her way up a larger hill. She wanted to claw her way to the top, to make herself feel as if she accomplished something. There wasn't much that Othello was proud of, even less so when it came to herself. Making it through a day without dropping her facade, make she could hold a bit of pride in that. But it was becoming less and less frequent, her mood swings were becoming more and more violent.

She could almost see the crest of the hill, light shimmering on the barren peak. While it wasn't much, the site still brought a small smile to her black lips, a rare thing indeed. Maybe there was a certain beauty in seeing little things as small wonders... The dame simply shrugged her shoulders and clambered onto the very top of the hill. Looking down, she knew that it was rather pathetic to hold such high feelings for climbing a dinky little hill, but one thing at a time. It was hard enough for her to get through every day without ripping someone's head off, it wasn't that bad to be proud of this. Sighing softly, the female lifted her head and surveyed the landscape around her surroundings. It was quite quaint here, the sunlight shining on the muted browns and greens that made up the earth here. Simple, yet elegant. Perhaps this is why she felt drawn to this place, it reminded her of herself.

Othello pulled her elongated tail forward, picking out twigs and sticks with her teeth. That was the one downfall about her tail, it seemed to pull half the hill up here with it. Grunting, she fought back the irritation that threatened to boil over. She was not going to let her emotions win this time, they could not take her over like she was some sort of pawn. She would not be the play-thing of her own emotions. No! She was in charge! The dame needed to calm down, she was getting to worked up about being in charge. She was letting them win. No. No! She was the leader here! She was the head of this body, she would not let them win. "No!" She howled, her shrieking voice shattering the silence of the landscape. Her purple eyes seemed to cloud over as pure rage filled her body, white hairs standing on end. She was in control... Othello's lips pulled back, ivory teeth glimmering in the light. She snapped her jaws, her tail flying behind her like a banner. Her hindquarters twitched as she fought to regain control of her emotions. Was it too late now?

Othello was falling into the black pit of her own being. 'Can you hear me? I'm falling, falling...' She wanted to scream, but it came out as a guttural growl. The dame hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. No! 'I am in charge!' Her mind screamed. Now her whole body shook, seeming to convulse as she fought this internal battle. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was tremoring. She knew what was next, and she could feel it in her toes. Her tail thrashed behind her like an angered cat, and then it was over. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and her shaking body stilled. She slumped onto the hard packed ground, an audible thud sounding. Laying as still as death, her body rested from its convulsions. Her emotions had won yet again.

'I'm in control...'