Both words are monsters. The first one was ghoul, one of those evil spirits that devour dead bodies, in other words, a scavenger. The second one was dove, which has a nicer ring than pigeon, but remains a monster nonetheless. And since we already had a bell, we couldn’t let the word dovetail pass us by, hence the love match.
*Vultures are our favorite scavengers, that is why the monsters have long necks.
Once upon a time there was a monster with the long neck of a vulture and a bell hanging around it. Every time the monster licked the bones that were his dinner clean, the bell rang in its ear. Telling the monster to fall in love. Until he finally caved in. And started gnawing bones in a pigeon graveyard. Looking for the dove tail that promises to be his perfect match.
I don’t understand why the ghoul looks for dove tails when he should be looking for ghosts. Ghosts are the personality that leaves the corpse. Love stays in the carrion, because it is unconditional. If the ghoul wants a beloved that will fit him, he should be looking for a ghost, and not for something that anyone could receive or devour.
*Wouldn’t it be easier to look for a dove that was still alive?
I would have used my claws to tear the first dove tail I found. If the ghoul knows what he is looking for, he should have created it with his own hands, he should have reshaped the first dove tail he found.
*But what happens if the dove tail is too small? If you didn’t have anything to tear, would you be willing to give something of yourself?
What about all the other feathers? If flying requires wings and souls are birds that fly free, if love makes one free, shouldn’t the ghoul be looking for dove wings instead of dove tails?
*The tail is the rudder. Flying isn’t worth anything without a destination.
I found this jingle bell on the ground. I guess that those that feed on live prey aren’t as easy to convince as those that feed on carrion. I guess that a certain amount of desperation is needed to be willing to look for love.
*Hunting requires silence. Silence is being hollow inside. I prefer music, I prefer that jingle bell, even if it makes me desperate.
I don’t understand you. A dove’s tail is a fan. A fan creates wind. And winds are change. Everything in that graveyard tells you that people change, even you. That you will never be able to find a match that will last all your life.
*But the magic lies in that perfect moment, when two ever-changing things match.
I was taught not to play with my food. But it doesn’t matter. Play with your dove tails. More carrion for me.
*Someone already took advantage of that poor prey while it was alive. Why can’t you let it rest in peace? You are monsters, the both of you.
If you are going to order me around and I am supposed to obey you, the least you could do is do it properly. Tell me who to fall in love with. You cannot expect me to respect someone that makes me decide for myself.
*I am here. Choose me.
In a graveyard feathers are the angels that mourn those doves. Why can’t you show some respect?
*You say that? You? While holding angels in your hand?
I know that if I were to lie down in a graveyard I could pass as carrion. But I don’t want to be food. I want to be love. But I don’t know how to find something that would pass as a dove’s tail.
*Maybe you would find a substitute if you didn’t spend all day in a graveyard.
Do you see what you make me do? You make me hide part of my soul, so as not to be considered your love.
*You are so selfish. You are denying someone their other half. You were made for them, and they were made for you. What right do you have to deny that match?
You tell a monster to fall in love, but not me? How is that fair?
*You really don’t hear that bell’s jingle? I do.
I found you, pretty dove, and I will never let you go. I won’t reduce you to being just a tail. You are mine. All of you.
*If by all you mean bones and feathers, sure. I won’t tell you who ate your pretty dove’s flesh.