Perfect Anger

The Fraulein Tian was not just a simple manifestation that rose from the weary dreams of tired laborers who kept boring smirks on their faces day in and day out wrestling with terminally repetitive tasks.  And she could not be destroyed by merely being dreamt away turning a nightmare into a story of redemption and survival. 

            The simplistic wanderings illustrated by her evil actions and the collaborative efforts of her faithless manservant Hans, didn’t just exist on the surrealistic plane of sleep induced fantasy.  Tian was an unwanted and desperate inhabitant who callously rued these intolerable underlings and their every action and commonplace nuance.  Despising the way they woke up in the mornings, the way they went about their duped lives, the way they trudged all day long just to collapse in bed each night less fulfilled and consumed with ever more disdain than the day before.  She wanted to make them all go to sleep at last with a finality so inconsequential that there would no longer be a reason to dread waking up the following day.

The Fraulein was real. 

The scarred sky, torn and interrupted by daggered clouds, moving pockets of rain-wired sheets and deliriously ominous thunder wall battalions, provided the stalking storm force sentry’s support shield.  Tian, as otherworldly assassin, would narrow her feline eyes, set her lush mouth and command her sumptuous vessel of pain with florid brashness and molten sexuality.  She is a timeless siren whose allure captures the cunning of a Black Widow with the efficiency of a Praying Mantis.  Her impending threats are carefully supported by the dissolute, virginal youth commentary supplied by Hans and his provocative modern notions about life, death, sex, power and assumptions about gender roles.  Tian was at the helm displaying her nuanced mastery for turning turmoil and heartbreak and fear into viable addiction.

The Fraulein dutifully navigated her evil black Zeppelin, circling above the gray, dreariness that the world presented before her.  She would sneer below at what she observed as only a lost colony, deserving nothing better than her wrath and disgust.  Her mission was still divined to destroy the residents, or “pollutants”, who lived within the city’s borders beneath the Zeppelin’s dock that supported her eight inch black stiletto heels. 

Satan’s daughter herself smiled as she curled the smoke slowly from her violet, pouty lips with a delightful exhale from her thin, black cigarette.  Tian was still the dark circus master, armed with her silver dagger and the ability to rain blood from the sky onto the subordinates dwelling below. 

Where she once only contemplated and visualized the horrific scene of smoldering fires and the stench of burned bodies, now she was finally in a situation to unleash all of her furies upon the pollutants.  She had masterfully sculpted the perfect storm containing within its walls a perfect anger that would soon blanket the target’s primary first strike zone.  Her anthropomorphic enforcer, aptly named Beulah by the collectively blind lingering in wait for her maiden appearance, was but the first of many tests the Fraulein would slowly release onto the landscape.  Beulah, Mother of the promised land for peace, symbolic of heavenly Zion, the bride of the American spiritual, was keenly positioned to disrupt the survival skills of the waiting.  Their anticipation either palpable and frightening or wistful and complacent, could easily measure their resourcefulness.