Where I'm From, Myths Have A Habit Of Being True. One Such Myth Is That The Moon Can Grant Wishes. People

The picture with me wearing blue gloves was taken on March 21st (when I planted some cacti seeds) and the other one was taken today (when I noticed my first sprout)! There's a little blip of green and that's my first sprout! :D

You are the first ever completely ethical vampire: you post the terms and conditions of trespassing, make it clear in the memo that said people are subject to be fed on… You can safely say that humanity’s stupidity has kept you alive for thousands of years.

"Hey, pretty girl, ready to go?" I asked as I rubbed my Púca's ears.

She neighed.

I told her before leaving, "Alright, I'll go and you come find me when you're ready, okay?"

I was just leaving when I felt a light hand on my shoulder. Behind me there was a young lady with black hair, a black dress with red accents, but the thing that stood out the most about her were her brilliant red eyes and horse ears that stuck up out of her hair.

"How do I look?" she asked before giving me a slow twirl.

I took her hands in mine, once she stopped, and kissed her cheek, murmuring, "Beautiful, as always." I unclipped my cloak. "You will need to hide your ears, though." I held my cloak out to her.

"Won't you get cold?" she asked, concern lighting her brilliant eyes. How did I get so lucky to get such a caring Púca such as her?

I smiled, "No, I'll be fine."

Hey eyes flickered between my eyes and the cloak before gingerly taking my offered article of clothing.

When she finally had it adjusted with her ears flat against her head, she asked, "Is this good?"

"You look human." I held my arm out to her. "Ready to go?"

My Púca was literally bouncing as she took my arm. She was beaming and just as giddy as a little kid. I looked forward and guided her out into the bustling streets full of people dressed up as monsters and heroes.

We were at the base of a stone tree made by men. The tree had stiff branches all the way at the top. But what held the attention of the man beside me was a stone in the tree. There were markings but I couldn't understand them.

"What do they say?" I asked before I reached out.

He took my hand as gentle as he could.

"It says, 'Bitter are the wars between brothers.' It is a proverb from ages past."

"But why is it here?" There was an unspeakable pain in his eyes. Why was he hurt? Was it because of the proverb?

"The king put this here as a reminder of what happened, I imagine," he answered, leading me away after taking one last good look at the stone.

"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."

🟢 You are still a writer even when you haven't written in a while.

🟢 You are still a writer even when you feel like you aren't writing enough.

🟢 You are still a writer when you feel like your work isn't good.

🟢 You are still a writer when other people don't like your work.

🟢 You are still a writer when you aren't published.

🟢 You are still a writer when you only have works in progress.

🟢 You are still a writer if all you write is fanfiction.

I sat in the cool, dark green grass as I listened to the brook beside me bubble and giggle happily. The fae nearby were having a festival that they graciously invited me to. In attempt to be a good guest, I brought some cream, honey, and absolutely nothing with iron. Iron hurts the fae.

They would help me with my garden that I was tasked to take care of. Giving them gifts was the least I could do, especially at their favorite celebration.

The sun started to go down as the festivities started to taper off. Groaning a bit, I got up, found Nightingale (my closest faerie friend) and graciously excused myself out. Today was fun and I cannot wait until tomorrow.

When we passed a sick rosebush, I sacrificed some life force, only enough for it to get back to perfect health.

The nymph hugged me as tight as she dared. I could see that she was on her way to become compost while she was sick.

"Did you help another plant?" the highwayman questioned after I convinced the nymph to go back to her plant.

"How could you tell?" I didn't bother trying to lie. He always knew when I was being honest and when I wasn't.

"Your breathing is labored and you're slightly shaking," he just as easily answered while he started setting up camp. He looked up at me and with some hidden compassion requested, "Have a seat."

I sat on a slightly slopped rock and waited for him to say or do something.

We sat for a few moments in silence while he cooked some fish. Was he cooking for himself?

"Here," he said after pulling out a ceramic plate and a fork before handing the plated fish to me.

I knew he knew how I regain lost life by eating cooked animal meat. Being gracious and grateful, I nibbled on what he prepared for me. I also wondered when he was planning on leaving.

"I'm not going anywhere until you've finished your meal," the highwayman assured me.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He gave a small smile, "I can wait until dusk for a meal." He looked like he has been in this situation before.

"Do you have enough for yourself?" If he was going to go hungry, then I wasn't going to have all of the fish.

"I'm always prepared, so yes, I have food for myself as well." His eyes drooped a little, his posture slouched, and his head nodding off a little.

I nibbled slowly enough that he fell asleep while he waited for me. When I finished my cooked fish, I have took off my cloak and tucked it around him.

It has been a long day for him.