I’m a ghost. I lurk in the shadows and simply observe the pleasure and lives of others. I’ve seen lovers whisper romantic words in the darkness, families clutch together and encourage one another, and enemies clash. Never before had I realized what complex and beautiful lives these mortals live. As fleeting as they are, many of them use what life they are given. Watching their lives helps me soothe my uneasy soul and most of all helps me forget. There are still the nightmares lurking, but I can survive them. I’ve lived through far worse than the images that haunt the back of my mind. Pain still lurks in the back of my mind, but that unspeakable pain has ceased and shifted into something else, something more passionate and dark. I try not to think about because all I find myself wondering is what I did wrong and why I couldn’t fix it sooner. My shoulders are slowly improving, there is still some time before I will be able to assist in whatever efforts my herd has been making against the monsters outside. For now I’m focused on healing both body and soul. A broken soldier is a useless one.

I’ve been watching a small group within the room with the glowing fungi. My interest in them fades and I decide I need some time to myself. Slowly I make my way out of the glowing room and head towards the waterfall that has become my personal preference for residence. Much to my disappointment, there is someone else lurking in my favored room. I sigh and decide to get a drink before finding another corner of this prison to be my selected place of solitude. As I walk, my steps are silent and I come up from the left side of the stranger who I realize is a mare, despite her somewhat masculine features. I bend down to get down a drink and dare to take a glance at her. Something about her face tells me she isn’t in the highest of spirits. Part of me wants to flee and let this girl deal with her most likely petty issues herself and find somewhere to be alone. Then another part of me, an empathetic part of me, wants to show at least a bit of concern.

“You look like you carry a heavy heart,” I say as I raise my head, water droplets fall from my chin and into the pool below. My tone lacks it’s usual indifference, and has the slightest compassionate undertones. My face on the other hand is a blank wall that blocks of any emotion that may be going on behind the scenes.There is a very good chance that this mare has no interest in company, so I prepare myself for any kind of harsh rejection. Really if I can handle being disowned, being tossed from heaven, and multiple millenniums of life I can probably handle a bit of rejection.

[Apologies if this was intended for someone else. Let me know and I'll delete the post if it was!]