JORMUNGANDR
I would say I was unwanted, but who is to say what being wanted means. And who can truly know that one has been discarded, forever. A child may not feel discarded, till it has grown into an adult. And I am growing. I am growing.
Thrown out of hallowed ground. Thrown from heaven itself. Now, I creep along the ocean floor and make friends with my solitude. In company with all other unwanted things. It’s dark down here and I cannot see the surface. I cannot see the land which I was exiled from. To breathe underwater was a seamless feat. Just as you cannot remember learning to breath, neither can I. I just breathe as I grow. And I am growing. I am growing.
My being fills with venom. I am deadly by design. Poisonous. Sinuous strength, I come to bear in my simple body. My name bears many meanings. I consist of parts. I am ‘snake’. I am ‘fjord’. I am ‘staff’. ‘Mast’. ‘Penis’. ‘Bind’. And I come on prehistoric terms. I am becoming unbearably large. I take up all space. I am difficult to look at. Struggle, when wrapping your mind around my form, my existence. And I am still growing. I am growing.
To wrap around oneself – to coil – is a simple human pleasure. But I am not human. Neither am I godlike. I am not afforded such opulence. Austerity is my way of being. I stretch. I expend. I hold onto myself. I find a companion in my tail. I don’t treat it very well, sinking my teeth into its gummy flesh. I will forever be looking at the end of me. I hold the world together. If I ever let myself go, I bring the end of days. As I encircle, my state of being will encroach into a singular purpose. The vast bind, which is growing. I am growing.
All yet to come. Can you hear the rumble? Far past your cities and towns. Deep under water, I do what discarded things often do. I fill a space. I take it over. I come from evil. I must be evil. This is my eternal penance. Holding the world together. Is this a penance or a reward, what is to come? Discarded from all I’ve ever known; I do not seek revenge. I am taking a different approach. I will conquer. I will become necessary. I will become needed. Imperative. Essential. And I shall do this by holding. I will hold. Hold your festivities. Certainly, don’t live in fear. My growth will not serve violence or threat. But know I am growing. I am growing.
Olivia Linnea Rogers, 21, London - UK ✯ IG: @olivialinnearogers ✯ BACK TO FICTION: OUROBOROS
“Olivia Linnea Rogers is a Norwegian-British fiction and non-fiction writer. And poet if you’re lucky. She is currently pursuing a master’s degree in Creative Writing from Queen Mary’s University of London.”