Great. I Was On My Way From The Capital And One Of Those Clockwork Soldiers Stopped Me.

Decay exists as an extant form of life

I don't remember what I was talking about, but I kept talking for him. There was a content air that surrounded him as he listened to whatever I was babbling.

But I also made sure to keep an eye on where we were going. At this point we had to be close to where the road wasn't as familiar. I could see some snow up ahead. But I didn't stop and kept talking.

In a breath of silence, I looked over at him. Since I was never really around people, I couldn't pin the exact expression.

Once we were a little bit into the cursed forest, I happened to take another look at him when a snowflake landed on his nose and startled him to a stop.

He looked up, eyes full of awe and wonder, as he whispered, "It's snowing?"

I was tempted to remark that it always snows here but his expression stopped me. How could I take this small pleasure from him?

So I settled for, "When was the last time you saw snow?"

"I don't remember," he muttered, not taking his eyes off of the snow.

I found a steady place to sit, cleaned the snow off, and got comfortable. He was having a good moment. I didn't want to take that from him.

I was going to wait until he was ready to go.

Found this far funnier than I should have

As I walked out under the night sky, I muttered a prayer. It wasn't continuous but mainly when ever I saw something that caught my eye, I'd say a quick little thank you prayer for it being created.

When I'd get back from my walks, I always felt better and ever grateful.

hold on a second man…

“How many people have died to achieve this world domination of yours?” “769.” “…What?” “769 people died to achieve my plans. I counted them, and had each of their names etched on my throne so I never forget what my victory cost the world. Now tell me, how many have you killed to see me dead?”

The cracking rumble of thunder mixed with the soft, warm kisses of the rain is a better combination than you might think. I don’t like chasing storms but I appreciate the ones that come through where I live.

I love the majesty of them all, especially thunderstorms. I used to be afraid of them but now, if I let them, they’ll easily put me to sleep.

The only time I am truly afraid of storms is when the clouds touch the ground. I’m protected by hills and mountains so those storms don’t happen too often.

I have wondered if being in the presence of a thunderstorm is like being in the presence of the king? Where some might find him intimidating while for others he’s soothing.

If I got the pleasure of meeting him, I think I would really like him. I’m not saying that only because I’m one of his subjects but also because I think I would be one of the ones that finds comfort in him.

I wonder.

"Okay, you looking at me for this long is scaring me. Why are you staring?" I asked, snapping him out of his daze.

He shook his head like a spring breeze. "Sorry but your eyes are a beautiful brown color," he replied, shy about his statement.

"They're brown but not beautiful," I grumbled. I liked my eyes but there were times that I wished that I had a livelier color like blue.

"I'm sorry you don't see what I see. In your eyes," he cupped my cheek, "I see the essence of life itself."

"That's green," I returned as I took my head out of his hold.

"No, brown. Plants need soil to grow, all animals need plants, sand and rocks and other formations hold the oceans and seas in place. I see canyons, mountains, valleys, fertile soil. I see the base of life in your eyes."

"Alright," the stranger sighed, "what's with the orange peels?"

I was laying some fragments of orange peels out to dry for black gold and others near some potted carnivorous plants that needed to be fed.

"Black gold," I said as I pointed to the ones drying on the sunlit stone. "Plant food." I pointed to the other peels that were already attracting flies.

"I thought that those plants didn't like any nutrients in their soil," he remarked as he gracefully draped himself across a fallen log in the shadow of a large maple. "And I though that you hated potting plants."

"They don't. But they still need food, just not food like the others." I sat down not too far from him, in the shade too. "I don't like potting plants but a kid asked me for a plant that wasn't like any others."

"So, obviously, you chose..." he propped himself up, "what is that, anyway?"

"Dionaea. A fly trap." I cast my gaze back to the potted plant that just caught a decent size fly. "I had to do a lot of trading to get a hold of that plant."

"If it was such a hassle to get, why did you?"

"The kid was curious about the world outside our boarders." I looked him dead in the eyes and told him, "Tell me how I could have said 'no'." I settled in a position similar to his. "When I see the kid again, I plan on giving it to him as a gift."

After I said that, he settled back down on his log, lost in thought.

I am a mosaic of everyone I have ever known and loved and touched and I find fragments of them in my playlists and how I make my tea. we may not know each other any more but we will stay connected like this. I hope a fragment of me is with you too.