"No! You Let Him Go, Drosera!" I Commanded The Larger Than Usual Plant. It Was Taller Than The Highwayman
"No! You let him go, Drosera!" I commanded the larger than usual plant. It was taller than the highwayman and rivaling some trees in height.
"Do you know just how long I've been starving?" The Drosera nymph demanded. "Then, along comes something that I can finally eat."
"You can't eat him! Let him go!" I repeated my demand. My throat hurt like it was roughly rubbed against an oak tree's bark.
"Am I supposed to feel tingley?" the highwayman asked as the Drosera's tentacle wrapped itself tighter around him.
"How much food do you have on you?" I asked my highwayman. How could I let him die when we've gone so far already? But I also didn't know how much food he had stored away. If it isn't a decent amount, then he might starve later.
"Enough to feed this thing," he replied in a vague way. There were seedlings of worry but other than that he was sure in his choice.
"But-"
"Dump the contents out of the side that is furthest from me," he instructed while he gestured to his bag.
As I did what he ordered, I wanted to believe that there was another way. But we hadn't seen any animals since we entered the bog.
"Let him go and I'll give you three pieces," I bartered, moving the three largest pieces forward.
The nymph hesitated. It burned energy it needed to catch him and now I was asking it to burn more.
"How much energy are those worth?" it asked in a cautious tone.
"At least half of what you'd get out of him."
"I'm starting to feel a serious tingle right now and I don't like it," he called.
With great effort, the Drosera let my highwayman go. As I had promised, I gave it the three pieces of meat.
"I still feel a tingle. Is that normal?"
"Go to the creek we saw a few miles back and at least rinse yourself off. The acid is still trying to eat you," I instructed him.
Without a word, he left me with the nymph.
More Posts from Lunarangel777 and Others
Where I'm from, myths have a habit of being true. One such myth is that the moon can grant wishes. People typically make wishes on one particular day but every once in a while, someone makes a wish on a different day.
For that one day, though, it is almost all children who make those wishes. Occasionally, an adult will drum up enough courage to leave a wish for the moon to grant.
The moon does what she can to grant the wishes but she'll only grant the wishes that are pure at heart and for the betterment of the person who wished.
"Is there anyway I can help?" I asked the ever patient moon on one particular night.
"If you have nothing to do, you could stay with me," came her soft whisper. "I like your company."
I chuckled as I sat down beside the alter. "Any interesting wishes?"
"They are all interesting and unique," she answered.
I furrowed my brows. "Don't most of the kids just ask for toys, though?"
"Yes, but those toys help the become someone unique."
Resting my head against the cool stone, I requested of the moon, "Could you explain how?"
Images of a wooden sword flashed across my mind as she answered, "The boy who will get this could become one of your greatest generals." Next, a combination of random metal parts and wooden puzzle pieces appeared in my head. "The one who receives this could be a mechanic that will invent revolutionary equipment." She went on for a few more moments after that.
I couldn't stop the smile or the tears. How could I have been so blind? "That was wonderful. Thank you for explaining that to me."
"It was a pleasure. But promise me one thing."
Even though she wasn't there, I looked up. "Anything."
"Promise me you won't underestimate the value of a gift. Even if it seems insignificant and useless to you, that could be the thing that sets the recipient on the right path for their life."
"I promise."
You have been abducted by a UFO. After you slowly regained your senses, you thought that the alien would dissect, torture or experiment on you, instead they are talking about saving you and others from that oppressive and hellish planet called Earth.
You gotta write for funsies sometimes. Everything doesn’t have to be groundbreaking. Like. Who cares if it’s a little silly it is made out of love
The large firebird screeched as he flew low enough to scorch the lower trees. The troops screamed in terror and abandoned their posts.
"Do you have to do this every time we go to war?" I asked my older twin brother.
"To be fair, what would you do if you saw a phoenix flying right at you?" he returned. He was in control of the phoenix and made sure that no one was too seriously injured.
"Fair enough." I glanced over at him. "I could've sent my Púca after the captain and a few others to scare them off."
He chuckled, "I appreciate the offer but my phoenix is already out there."
"Whatever it takes," I started, watching the forest burn in the night.
"To keep our kingdom safe," my brother finished.
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Making Desert Land Fertile with Water Bunds
Taking one look at him, something dawned on me. He was like me, looked like me in a sense. He had the dark, bark-like pattern that I have.
Only his was in a different shape.
The constant clatter of swords and the elegant movement always calmed me. The twirl here and a parry there.
The extra weight of the graceful blade felt like it was natural.
But life can't always be this way can it? Somehow, either you or someone else gets hurt. I guess you can only choose your actions and words carefully to minimize the damage.
i dream of living within walking distance of a secondhand bookstore, a quiet café, and a river to sit at with my book and my coffee
Great. I was on my way from the capital and one of those clockwork soldiers stopped me.
"Where are you going?" it asked as it stopped me from going any further.
I've been warned that there's still one functional at all times. I didn't know what time it was, so it might not be that one.
"What hour are you?" Every clockwork soldier works only during the hour it was named after. There are some that I think are either decoys or meant to scare people, since they never work.
"I am hour thirteen," it answered me, its empty eyes boring into mine.
This one, number thirteen, people have named the liar. No matter what it says, it is never true. I've met it once before and it said that it was going to snow in the middle of summer.
"I'm going home," I replied to the soldier. It's the law for citizens to answer human and clockwork soldiers.
There was a sound of clicking gears before it cocked its head off to the side and said, "Long live the King."
"Yeah," I muttered, walking by once he let me pass, "long live the King of the Day."
Its cold metal hand grabbed my wrist.
"Yes, long live the King of the Day. But I originally meant his brother."
The King's brother is a myth, a legend, something that never has and never will happen.
The clockwork soldier numbered thirteen let me go.
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