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12-25-2013, 10:52 PM
What in the world? She thinks to herself. She is venturing again, as usual, and for whatever reason it is this meadow again. Perhaps its flowers are much like she is; a deep and beautiful color, vibrant and inviting until you dare to get too close. The season has left them dry and brittle, and they rupture like small violet bombs as her sides brush against them with too much force, or her knees knock them aside. Ahead of her, there is a fire bird perched upon the highest bough of a tree, and she has followed a stream of wildlife from the thickets and forests into the meadow where they gather about this creature. Drawing close enough to actually see the thing, she takes note of the myriad baubles that gleam in its branches, the small animals skittering up its length to add additional things to its splendor. There are many others here, she notes when she finally stops looking at the tree. It seems that the foot of the thing is lined with gifts, which she finds quite alluring; drawing closer, she gazes harder at it, stretching the sixth sense that children born in realms of magic are taught to have. It hums. It is more alive than any other tree she has ever encountered. How interesting, she thinks to herself, continuing to quietly admire the beauty of the whole picture. That it is an image of many different things working as one escapes her. Such things always do. Illynx |
