TWINK DEATH

Once upon a time there was a twink. The twink lived in a big castle, with high walls and long curtains. The castle was so big that everything ever needed was inside it, the walls high, the curtains long, flooding the ground. They say, when a twink is born, they each get a castle with high walls and long curtains of their own, to reside in and live the most comfortable and privileged life one could ever imagine. Until one faithful day, they might be called upon. When they reach their prime and get plucked off a tree like a ripe peach, filled with the sweetest juice, to find their true nature. Their calling in life. Love? Better: Purpose.

But what if that moment is never reached? A twink’s lifespan is short. Time crawls up on them, leaving marks of decay on their slim and hairless body. Fine lines and stretch marks appear, hair starts to grow, sturdy, dark and thick like weed, so that the twink rather resembles an animal. Maybe an otter, or even a bear! The imminent ending is near: Death. Twink Death.