|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Feb 06, 2011 4:41 pm
 Even in their green leafy wonder the trees looked mundane and lifeless to Roman’s roaming eye. The ground beneath his feet felt the same everywhere he went and the landscape hadn’t changed either. The clear waters running through the valleys did not draw his eye for they were like so many others he had seen. The sun had begun it’s decent below the horizon painting the sky in golds, oranges and pinks yet this still brought on no emotions. He had seen so many on his travels and each time they were the same, the glory being lost after the first fifty times. The mountains surrounding the land looked like nothing more than giant dirt piles to him. Even the snow capping the tops had no effect on him, like so many he had seen before. Coming to a halt he inhaled deeply taking in the sharp scent of the decay of the world. Many thought the musky scent of the earth and the overly sweet aroma of flowers and other such vegetation in the air was calming, mystical even. To him it was just the scent of everything in the world aging and dying. With an unamused smile he continued on his way, the same pull he often felt still grasping his blood and muscles.
His mind flicked to the night sky and all of its ‘beauty.’ How could something that never really changed be so amazing? The stars always looked the same, burning white lights with no draw whatsoever. The moon was nothing more than a pitted rock looming in the sky, its splendor long lost after many nights of holding a visual. The darkness was cold and unwavering, more likely to steal one’s soul than to gently kiss one upon the cheek. Even his steps on the earth seemed hollow and boring. Nothing in this world was magnificent, wondrous, glorious or even beautiful. It was all just a bland march of something being repeated over and over again.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 07, 2011 2:14 pm
 The painting in the sky had begun. Crimson red followed the glowing golden globe, orange trailed behind the red leading the strands of palest pink. All rest was the remaining light blue sky now darkening to night as the world yawned and began to close its eyes. Soon the night lights would be hanging above in the velvet night sky, scaring the shadows away. And the moon would light the path of those who wandered in the darkness. Athela closed her eyes as she took in her surroundings. She liked this time best, at the time of dusk when all things appeared to be at a sudden standstill, when an old day ends and the prospects of a new day begin.
As she kept her eyes closed, she could smell nature. The lives of things past and gone, the things that were now living and the things that were yet to come. She could smell the sweet aroma of the flowers that were just blooming and the scent of barren earth that spoke of the past winter and the coming spring. In her mind, she could feel winter being chased away by the coming spring. She could hear the rainfall promises of new life. She could see a bright green world, beautiful, wonderful, glorious, magnificent, another masterpiece of nature. Something new, something old, something special.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 07, 2011 8:06 pm
Only a slice of the sun remained peering over the horizon when he noticed her. Hair of a shade he hadn’t encountered before and markings he would deem unusual. Her eyes were closed and she looked at peace. For a moment he felt envious of this mare for being able to enjoy life as though it were the sweetest patch of grass ever tasted. For him, life was like the brown shriveled grass one steps upon after traveling on a long road only to discover there was truly nothing better out there. Envy gave way to exasperation as he watched her a moment. Why was she wasting time standing there with her eyes closed? It wasn’t as though life would get better just by standing there and observing all of your surroundings. If anything it only wasted the vitality you had left as each day passed and took more and more of your life. Rolling his icy blue eyes he began changing course, veering to the side so he would not have to walk by her and risk a confrontation. He was in no way being stealthy or attempting to sneak by more or less just attempting to avoid a situation, like he normally did.
Perhaps he had more of his father in him than he had realized, walking away from things before they even began. He was not one to start a conversation out of the blue, especially when someone was so at ease with the world. He was not a pleasant character to be around something that had come to perfection with his years of traveling. Not once had he called a place home, he hadn’t ever made any friends aside from his brother and seemed to avoid social situations for that reason. Caring only opened you up to more pain, something he had learned the hard way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 08, 2011 6:23 pm
The sound of hooves on the barren earth, quiet but still audible enough, caused Athela to slowly open her eyes to see who had chanced by. Her eyes did not at once see the stranger, but as she turned, she noticed him, his coat almost blending in with the orange-y yellow sky left by the falling sun. He had dark red hair with strange white streaks and great wings, wings that could fly in the sky, soar through the clouds and touch the stars. Was he a prince, a wanderer, a storyteller? A stallion with a thousand secrets too dark to tell. A thief who stole the sky, wearing its colors in triumph. Did he fall from the sky or rise from the earth? Could he walk on clouds? Where was he from? From where the sun sinks into the sea or from the mountains dark and cold? Five million questions yet to be answered.
The stranger was several yards away from her when she decided to approach him. Given any other day, she may have let the chance for conversation slip by, satisfied with only the images conjured in her mind, of stories that strangers withheld. However, today was a bit different. She felt inclined to leave her musings behind and seek out answers willfully, to hear what the stranger colored sunset had to tell.
"..." Athela had opened her mouth to speak with no words in mind. Slightly bemused and a little shocked, she recalled vaguely that she had not spoken to any strangers before. How troublesome... It was as if her voice was frozen in her throat, highly bothersome yet unable to get rid of until the silence is broken.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 08, 2011 7:22 pm
At first he thought he had scraped by unnoticed by the strange mare but was proven wrong upon hearing the sounds of approach from behind him. His ears flicked back at the approach and he stopped his walking, turning his head so he could see her from the corner of his eye. Again he found himself curious about her unusual markings never had he come across anything like them. He could have rolled his eyes and kept walking when she opened her mouth to speak but did not. Irritation bubbled up within him and he inhaled deeply. “Only fish let their mouths flop like that.” He stated with little to no emotion. Why was she even speaking to him? Normally he wasn’t what would be classified as an ‘approachable’ being. Turning now so he faced her completely he took better stock of her appearance. Her eyes were the silver color of the clouds and her hair spiraled down toward the ground in a blue waterfall. He could acknowledge beauty when he saw it though he didn’t put much thought to it. Taking a few steps back so he wasn’t too close to her he began to wonder why he hadn’t just walked away. He was still courteous even though he was rather brisk and blunt so that was most likely the reason he didn’t just turn his back to her and keep walking. “Why are you even out here?” He enquired with little concern or amusement. Why would someone be out and about rather than tucked into a nice little nook for the night?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 13, 2011 2:42 pm
"On the contrary, fishes don't let their mouths flop. They are simply drinking the water, seeing if they can swallow the ocean, the rivers and streams--conquer the unconquerable." The words had flown out before she had realized that she had spoken them. Athela smiled. Well, that wasn't too bad. It seemed like she won't become a mute anyway...as long as she had someone to speak to. Her voice had thawed.
The stranger seemed to be feeling rather irritable, because he took a few steps away from her. However, her interest already sparked, Athela had no intention of letting him go without some explanation for his appearance, personality or history. His eyes, blue like winter sky and clear ocean breeze, were empty of amusement. Was he not a thief then who stole the sky, was he perhaps the victim? The victim who had his life stolen in those eyes? What had those eyes seen in the past, see now in the present, or will see in the future? Could he still see or was he blind? Not blind of colors, shapes or things, no, but blind of the world. Blind but not blind? Paradox.
Athela lowered her eyes to look around the stallion's midlevel, feeling the awkwardness that stemmed from staring at a stranger too long. The stallion before was a stranger, and like all strangers, she could stare at them quite well at a distance, unnoticed, but when the strangers came to stare at her...well, she felt unnerved and strangely jumpy. Still staring at somewhere on the stallion's neck area, she answered,"This is the time when the sun paints the sky as it falls into night, when the blue changes into orange, crimson and gold, then into a darker blue that will become the night sky. It is a beautiful time and the weather is nice, where else would I be but out here?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 6:10 pm
His eyes remained fixed on her a moment, as though waiting for her to add something to her unusual statement. Where on earth had she found something that ridiculous? He had begun to wonder if he had accidently crossed paths with a wandering lunatic. He had heard many things in his life but fish attempting to achieve the impossible was not one of them. The fact that she seriously believed in what she was saying unsettled him and he thought an instant of backing away slowly. “Interesting theory…” He murmured, his tone revealing the true sentiment of mocking behind the statement. Even now she smiled over what she had said, she didn’t blush for the peculiarity nor did she walk away ashamed of the absurdity.
He noticed her inspecting him and began to wonder exactly what it was she was thinking about. The scrutiny of others hadn’t ever really bothered him, whatever they deemed him as was none of his concern. Besides, he usually never stayed in one place long enough to discern the opinions others held of him. After a time he had stopped caring even what his departed brother had thought of him. Clearing his throat he looked to the sky and seemingly winced at it. How could she have such a beautiful thing to say over such a mundane occurrence? “Hm…I tend to think it resembles the fires of hell infiltrating the soulless sky above, threatening to drag even the most innocent of beings to the dark and painful depths. No, there is not beauty about something that happens every time without fail. “ Bitterness filled his heart as his memory flicked back to his brother saying nearly the same thing as the mare about the evening sky. “The most dangerous of foes lurk at night so these ‘wondrous’ colors could be seen as a trap, luring you into a false sense of security until you are disemboweled by the evil of this world.” His posture and very attitude seeped of conviction as he gazed back at her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 6:22 pm
"Theories are theories just as stories are only stories. But I would really love to talk to fish one day, wonder what they are really up to--swallowing water like that. Perhaps they are just greedy, like the sun is with the sky, drinking the oceans, the rivers and the streams just as the sun is not satisfied until it lights up the entire sky." She paused, giving a careful thought to the matter and giving no notice to the stallion's irritation, and asked,"Can you talk to fish? Do you listen to their whispers? I daresay that they are absolutely terrified of me, but perhaps you have had better luck?"
It was not that Athela did not care about the stallion's reaction to her unusual comment about the fish, it was just that she took no notice of it. Having dealt with only the soquilis in her family and those that she lived with, she had no experience in reading situations with strangers. That coupled with her slight detachment from reality and peculiar perceptions, she could be both intuitive and oblivious. And with her conversation with a stranger flowing so smoothly, the thought of considering the other's reactions was wiped clean out of her mind.
She glanced back up at the stranger and watched as he winced as he scrutinized the sky. And she gave a slight grimace as he told her what he thought about it. Had he really had it stolen from him then, the life in those eyes? Could he blind to the beauty? The majesty, the colors, the promise. Athela held her silver gaze steadily back at him, forgetting the awkwardness that she had originally felt in looking into the stranger's eyes, "Fire brings warmth. Darkness is a promise of light. And the depths are not so scary if you open your eyes. The sky is never soulless because soon the lights will be lit and the darkness shattered...It is beautiful because it happens everyday without a fail. No matter what happens, the sun will always paint her paintings in the sky as she dances down to her rest and the stars will be lit as darkness falls, and then a new day will be begin with the light of a new day."
She winced slightly at she remembered his comment about foes disemboweling her in the dead of night. She paused, rendered momentarily speechless, before regaining her thoughts and she said resolutely, her silver eyes staring into the eyes the color of winter sky and clear ocean breeze, "If I were destined to die in the dead of night, I would rather see the sun painting the sky as she dances down to earth than fires and soulless skies with dark predictions."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 7:25 pm
Cottus had once asked him what it would be like to be able to communicate with ants. His head was filled with wondrous stories of how ants can carry loads ten to fifty times heavier than their own body weight and how they are able to survive after an extended period of time beneath the water’s surface. He also often speculated what the stars would be able to tell someone for they are excessively old and always attentive. Cottus was not nearly as passionate as the strange mare standing before him but even the slight similarities caused him to feel a ping in his heart. “Or perhaps fish are merely attempting to greedily gobble up whatever air they can before they find themselves belly up, their eyes popping grotesquely out of their heads and their bodies turning white. Fish are no more magnificent than any other living creature, each just struggling for one more breath before the thread of their life is severed. I am certain their story would be as mundane and anticlimactic as the rest of them.” He looked to her from the corner of his eye and gave a displeased grunt. “Talk to fish? I have no desire to waste my lift talking to such insignificant little creatures. They have their world full of darkness and death by predator just as I have mine.” Through his entire tirade his tone remained flat and disinterested. He honestly hadn’t put much thought into fish and their pathetic little lives. “Death is the one true end result of life; therefore you attempt to ‘satisfy’ yourself as much as you possibly can before the curtain is pulled.”
Just the simple thought of death and greed painted an image in his head, the image of his younger brother collapsing and gasping for those last few breaths before his lungs failed him. In an essence life could be described with one word, greed. Always seeking those last few crucial bites of something savory, greedily absorbing the sun’s rays, the hunger to find love or even merely another to pass along your genes. With a snort and a shake of the head he looked at her through glass eyes. “The one and only thing that matters is attempting to make each day of this insufferable life bearable.”
A hollow laugh escaped his chest and he began to actually feel entertained by this mare. Not often would he stand and speak like this, no, he preferred walking away and avoiding those who still had eyes closed to the horrific truths of this world. “Indeed, fire brings warmth but it also brings flesh melting from bones, ash coating the lungs and extreme heat burning the esophagus. Darkness promises light only to those who survive its tyranny and even glaring at the depths cannot protect you from that which thrives there. The sky is indeed soulless for it stares down at us, watching our trials and our deaths…watching the pain inflicted upon us.” A lump welled up in his throat as he recalled raising his eyes to the sky and begging for his brother’s life. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he pleaded the sky ignored him. “The guarantee of having it occur every day only makes it that much more dull, it is always the same.”
His refusal to see her side was obvious, but, within him he knew he didn’t ever want her to see his side. More than anything he wished he could be moved to tears by the magnificence of the sunset, but after watching so many…worrying about the day ahead….he couldn’t. “Seeing a fantasy is often more comforting than seeing reality.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 18, 2011 3:13 pm
Eyes popping grotesquely out of their heads? The stallion certainly had a quite gruesome imagination. However, Athela was hardly perturbed by his pessimism, and was perhaps more interested in his perception for she replied,"Gobble up air? That's an intriguing thought. Perhaps fish think that if they gobble up enough air, they can expand and float into the sky like balloons, where they can float amongst the clouds and touch the stars...And if you simply infer that their story would be mundane and anticlimactic, doesn't mean that it actually well be. I'm sure that their stories would be delightful, that is, if I could talk to them." She frowned at the stallion's reference to death. "Death is only an end to one story and the beginning of another. Before the curtain is pulled, put on a spectacular show. Then death cannot touch you because you live in memories as long as the audience remembers. How satisfied you are of your show is up to you. You can disappear like a fog in the morning sun or go down with flames dancing and applause."
"Life is only insufferable to those who believe it to be insufferable. And those who believe it, see it as so. And everything become insufferable in their eyes." Athela gazed steadily at the stallion. He thought life was insufferable, yet he hated death. So he continued to plow through life because he did not want to die. Wasn't that right?
She listened to his next words in silence and when he was done, she said, "Fire is life and death. It burns out leaving its ashes to scatter in the wind. It destroys forests, but come spring, new trees grow. Darkness is not so scary if you remember that there's always a light inside you and though it may be dark, as long as you live and breath, the light continues to burn. And why stay in the depths? Fly, climb, escape. Spread your wings and leave them behind. The sky's the limit. And she has a soul because she cries for us, for our trials and deaths and because she can't reach us because she is the sky, and the sky is above, and she cannot touch earth until the place where the sky and the earth meet far away behind the thundering sea. She can only watch us and cry. But she smiles too and she lets the sun paint colors on her, to bring smiles on the faces of people below." Athela had smiled every time she saw a sunset. She had smiled as she watched the sun paint her colors across sky as she fell. The same sunset, the same smile, "It may be the same sunset everyday, but we change, we start to look at things differently. The sky is always there. She never changes, but she is still beautiful."
She paused as she thought about the stallion's words. Fantasy? Reality? They depended on how you see. "Then don't see reality if fantasy is better, but don't see fantasy if reality is better."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 18, 2011 4:57 pm
Yet again her response had him stalling a moment to process where her thoughts were coming from. It had all begun with him commenting on her allowing for her mouth to flop open in the same manner that a fish does and then it became a conversation about flying fish? Even though her ideas were outlandish she did present him with a challenge in coming up with a response. “Floating amongst the clouds and touching the stars you say? What happens when they come plummeting back to earth? Just as hopes float in the sky and come crashing down around your hooves so shall the suspended fish. Only to feel every bone in their slimy little bodies break as they hit the ground. Floating amongst the clouds is for dreamers and those who have not yet felt the impact of falling.” Hadn’t he once floated amongst the stars? A bright eyed and chipper foal? Rolling his shoulder he could almost feel the breakages in his body where he had come down. As each year of his foalhood passed by a little more air was let from his wings and soon he found himself plunging headlong down to the hard, merciless earth. He would not admit it, but her opinions were beautiful if a little misguided. He was glad she fought him every step of the way for it meant she still had the breath of life in her that had come whooshing from his lungs as he hit ground. “Sometimes the story that comes after death is one of sorrow and horrors.” His own existence was proof enough of that. Upon the death of his brother and the permanent absence of his father he had for once felt completely and utterly alone and resigned. With no home and no love in his heart he continued to wander, a lost soul in the darkest night. “Memories fade and with them the immortality of which you speak. I too once believed that to be loved and remembered was the key to life.” Rather than continue on with his opinion he clammed up again, not wanting to reveal too many personal details to a mare whose name he didn’t even know. “At one point or another the fog takes us all to a place for the forgotten.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps life is truly insufferable and those who close their eyes to it are able to live in ignorance and bliss. Sometimes the eyes are forced open and must take in the cruelty of this world alone.” Again his body grew stiff. Though he hadn’t been exactly like her, he had once been as lighthearted as she. Before Ardus pulled him and his brother into a silent hell and separated them from everything but darkness and sorrow. “Sometimes death is a welcomed relief but it is the promises made in life that keep us here.” The lump returned to his throat and he had to look away. Why had he promised his brother he would life the live that was so cruelly stolen from him? Why instead couldn’t he have been the one taken by sickness? Selfish.
“To each his own.” Roman replied shortly, knowing that they could stand there for hours arguing over the sky and ‘her’ intentions. Why personify something so cold? Shrugging it off he again peered upward noting that the sun had all but fully hidden behind the horizon. It wasn’t safe out in the open like this at night. The image of his brother begging him to stay with him in that dark little clearing replayed and he looked to the mare once more. “Don’t you have a family worrying over you or something?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 19, 2011 8:11 am
She winced again as the stranger replied, his descriptions as grotesque as before. She was left in silence for a few moments before she could gather her thoughts to reply,"But isn't that flight worth it? To float among the cloud and touch the stars--the fish know that they can reach that height now, even if they do plummet towards the earth. They know that they can fly up there, and they can do it again. They can touch the stars again." Having grown up in a sheltered environment, she had little idea what she was talking about--how hard it would be to fly to such a height again after such a fall. But she could imagine it, the falling, the pain, the memories. And probably because it was in her imagination, she felt that even if such a thing were to happen to her, she would rise up again and try to fly to the stars. "Just because some chapters may be full of sorrow doesn't mean that others will be. Each day is a new chapter and happiness can always be found when seeked." She paled at his next words. What had stolen so much from him? When had it started raining? How long has his sun been covered by clouds? "Then does being remembered matter anymore? Memories fade, souls move on, you live and die. As long as you live, live life the way you want." She paused," How long have you been in that fog?" Wanting to be taken away to the forgotten but tied to the living?
"If eyes are forced open, is there cruelty all that is to be seen? Cruelty is a raindrop and happiness is a storm. Don't focus on a single raindrop in a thunder storm. No one is truly alone." She paused, thinking, and added thoughtfully,"If you do have to look at cruelty in the face, stick your tongue at him and tell him to wash his stupid grin off his face." So it was death, wasn't it? The thief that had stolen something important from him. No, it wasn't death only, but the promise as well. Death and promises that had stolen away his sun. She didn't say anything about her surmise because salt still hurts on half-healed wounds, but she did say,"Then live out the promises, but first, remember what the promises are."
Athela blinked as the stallion remarked about the time. The sun was almost towards her resting place at the world's end. "No, they'll be fine. I usually don't get home until the stars are lit." Her family and the ones that she lived with already knew about her ventures and half of them were night wanderers, so there was little worry about Athela as long as she came home before the moon was at its zenith. What about the stallion? He didn't appear to have a family--at least not anymore. Where would he go home to? "Could you stay with me until the stars are lit?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 23, 2011 4:20 pm
A smile curved his lips but it was a dark one, giving way to some of the sorrow he had faced in his short life. “Is it?” He enquired gruffly. “You tell me? Is it truly worth it to fly up for only a moment then come crashing down? Only to have every bone in your body crushed and your organs turned to mush? Is it worth it to nearly touch a star just to have an end like that?” An impolite snort resounded as he finished his semi-rhetorical questioning. Her ideals were beautiful, he could admit to that but in the end they were just that, ideals. Even so a small voice in the back of his mind piped up and asked him the question he had been dreading since first speaking with her. Or are they? His icy eyes fixed on hers and with all seriousness he responded to her statement. “What if it is not merely a few chapters? What if it is the entire book? Then what mare? You tell me. When the whole book is filled with darkness, pain and sorrow it is hard to imagine a chapter filled with happiness and light.” He attempted to make it sound as though he were replying from an entirely outside perspective but had the feeling he was failing. Even in these little opinions he shared with her he had the sense he was giving away too much. “Perhaps you are correct, but who truly knows.” Her next statement caused him to jerk a little as though he had been bitten by a snake. He hadn’t truly thought about how much he was revealing upon saying his statement about the fog taking them. “I never said I was in the fog, just that it takes all of us at one point or another.” It wasn’t the strongest of covers but he hoped it would throw her off of his trail ever so slightly. He wasn’t the type to go spouting on about how his entire family was dead and he was the only one who remembered them. Even his memory had begun to fog up and that worried him. Her next words brought him relief from the prior tension that had begun to build within his chest.
“Isn’t the mere act of having one’s eyes forced open cruel enough? Perhaps that one cruel act defines how the being perceives the world. In some cases is it not possible for cruelty to be the storm and happiness to be the much desired raindrop in a drought?” Going off of this metaphor he could only recollect one rain drop. Even it was not as happy as it could have been but it was a time he clung to desperately, wishing he could force the hands of time to turn back. The way she spoke on everything made it seem so easy to just shuck off the shackles restraining him, if only. “Perhaps.” He absentmindedly added. A chuckle emanated deep from within his chest and he picked a spot in the trees to focus on. “A promise made from sorrow can only be carried out sorrowfully.” Where this logic came from he didn’t know but it truly seemed to just fit. “Promises can be hastily made without thinking on the ramifications. One can become completely lost in one promise with no way out.”
Her question again had him looking at her, this time with his eyebrow raised in semi-confusion. Even though he fought her every step of the way on her opinions she still desired for him to remain here with her until she had to head back to her family? He found himself growing a bit wary and eyed her suspiciously. She looked harmless enough but why would she want to spend time with such a dried up stallion. His ears flicked back and he sighed. “I suppose.” Clearing his throat he dug his hoof into the dirt. “Though, I have never truly felt at ease in an open space during nightfall. It makes for an easy target.” He took a moment to scout the land around them, looking for someplace to shelter them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 12, 2011 6:26 pm
She blinked, slightly startled by both his dark smile and talk of bones being crushed and organs turned into mush. Yet her reply to his questions was short and quick, "I think it's worth it." Athela was born without wings. She could not fly and try to touch the stars. She could not even rise above the tree tops, but she wanted to. If she was given the chance, given the chance to fly, she didn't care what would happen in the aftermath. She could feel the wind blowing against her mane and the stars a hairbreadth away from her reach. She could see the clouds beneath her and moon above her. She could chase the sun to the ends of the earth where all ends meet. Yet she couldn't. Jolted back into reality as the stallion continued talking, Athela listened intently. "What a dark book. If it's so dark, why not pick up your own pen and write it? Write happiness and light, don't let the book write itself." She paused and continued,"As for who truly knows, no one knows, but can't one trust one's own judgement? If you trust, you believe, and doesn't that then become reality? If you believe that the fog doesn't swallow you up, it won't. Nonbelievers are bad for its digestion."
"If that one cruel act can define how the being perceives the world, then that being is blind. They may be as old as the forests or as wise as the foundations of the earth, but if one cruel act can define their very being, then they are blind even if their eyes are forced wide open. They can't see. Raindrops and rainstorms, would they then be able to tell the difference? Could they not create their own storms?" She was young. She was idealistic. She was yet to suffer the cruelties of the world, but she believed that she could overcome any difficulty or hardship through willpower alone. She believed that life was for happiness. And those ideals were part of her reality. "Promises are promises, but can't their meanings be changed? One might be lost in a promise, but can find a way out through a different form of the promise."
A smile spread across her face at the stallion's acceptance, "Thank you." As for his comment about open spaces, Athela actually liked being in wide open spaces during nightfall. It made her feel at ease because she could feel the air and hear the sounds of the world around her. She could feel alone yet not alone, a sense of tranquility. However, if the stranger didn't feel at ease in the open, she was not going to complain. "I guess so. There's a forest not far off where it won't be as open?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 11:44 pm
He had to hand it to her; she had guts or something along those lines. Even when faced with excruciating pain and failure she still managed to speak with conviction. He knew just by looking at her and paying attention to her tone of voice that she truly felt flight would be worth the pain and sorrow that would surely follow. Rather than praise her as he ought to have he merely rolled his eyes and looked away. “Then you are foolish.” He responded quietly. In reality it had been a very long time since his last encounter with someone so passionate and he somehow felt backed into a corner. He was grateful for the change of subject, his ears perking up as she suggested the writing of one’s own book. “What if fate and destiny were the driving forces between such sad chapters? Then what? You would lift the pen only to have what you just scribbled down twisted to force you down the same path you were initially meant to take? What if all roads lead only one way? No matter how many you took?” It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried being happy before. Many times he had attempted to settle down in one place and make friends; possibly even a family but in the end catastrophe and pain was the end result. His breathing suddenly constricted as the word ‘trust’ entered the conversation. Suddenly the image of his brother’s motionless corpse flooded his mind and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. His brother had trusted him to protect and keep him alive, now look what happened. Roman had even trusted his father to always return for him but one day he just vanished. “Trust is nothing more than an empty promise…” Believing was another thing entirely to him. So many times he had believed in something and had felt the anguish of it being torn from him. “Belief is just another word for folly, nothing good ever comes from believing in something.”
Her confidence in the world around her had him stunned, she had not seen the horrors and he hoped she would never have to. “Then blind they shall remain I suppose. The eyes being forced open are merely the beginning of the end. It is the one act that allows all of the outrageous horrors to creep into view. When one becomes content with a life of leisure and what could pass as happiness and suddenly they are exposed to the decay of the world and forced to see it over and over again it tends to change things. Perhaps being blind would be a blessing, ignorance is bliss after all.” He couldn’t really tell where he was going, he felt in a way that he had begun speaking to himself more so than speaking with her. This mare, whose name he didn’t even know, had come out of the blue and caused him to begin thinking once more. “Only gods have the ability to create storms. I am certain even the blind can tell the difference between multitudes of water droplets in comparison to one.” He studied her face for a moment, she didn’t balk or turn back once in their entire conversation. She had her beliefs and she was sticking to them no matter what. He quite liked her perseverance but, of course, would say nothing to the effect. “How so?” He enquired about her statement on promises. How could one promise be changed or cancelled out by another? This he would enjoy hearing for it was something he found hard to believe.
Her smile was bedazzling and caused his face to grow warm though he could not tell why. Perhaps it was because there was no secret meaning behind her smile, no hint of pain or ill intent. “Sure.” He muttered as though it were some big chore. It had been a very long time since he had remained in another’s presence for this long and he found himself a little nervous. He was actually surprised she had nothing to say about open spaces. Upon saying it he had wondered what kind of argument he would create between the two of them. Shrugging it off he nodded his head tensely and began walking toward the tree line in the distance. “That will have to suffice.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
