“I Thought The Goddess Of Love Would Look…different.” The Wrinkled Old Woman Waved A Dismissive

"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.

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 think it's so adorable that early humans took wild gourds - a tiny fruit that hollows out as it dries, making it float - and decided to make something out of it

they thought the tiny fruit was so good that they bred it for thousands of years, making it larger to form into bowls and cups, and different shapes to become bottles and spoons

and musical instruments

And then, people took the hollow gourds they farmed, and they turned them into houses for birds. We adapted them into the perfect houses for birds, and now there are specific breeds of birdhouse gourd just for making into birdhouses

And humans dedicated gardening space and time and thousands of years of breeding to make the gourds so absolutely perfect for birds, that there is a species of bird that lives almost exclusively in them

"Tobias," I sighed.

"Yes, my king?"

"How long do you think we can honestly hold out for him to come home?"

"We're beyond that point, my king. The plant and animal mages are doing what they can to help."

I nodded. I'm tired and I know I can't rule without my brother to help me.

Broken stones that stay in the same general shape are wonderful. There's an opportunity for something beautiful to grow in between the cracks of something so tragic.

🟢 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.

"Tell me something I don't know," I asked the strange man.

He looked up into the mostly cloudy sky and said, "All kids have magic. Some are allowed to keep it while others outgrow it."

"What makes those kids loose magic?" I scooted closer to him.

He looked... lost. "I don't know exactly why some don't keep the magic. Some say that they stop believing in the Elemental of the magic. Others say it depends on if their family had magic in it." His forget-me-not colored eyes bore into mine. "Then you get those like you. No one has come up with a rhyme or reason as to why you and other mages like you are here."

"I think they're meant to be here. All the mages and regular people. Everything wouldn't be the same without anyone missing."

"What about the disgraced king?"

"He is needed, too."

time lapse of all the birds yesterday

My highwayman and I started picking out way through an abandoned fishing village. The snow piled up was ridiculous, so much that some buildings were almost completely buried.

The sound of noise of something walking on snow made him freeze.

A clockwork soldier meandered its way around a building a little further down the lane.

"Maybe we shoul-"

"Excuse me!" I called out to the bypassing clockwork soldier.

It stopped and clicked as it turned to face both of us.

"Which hour are you?"

It clunked and clicked over to us.

"I am hour eleven," it informed me.

"Do you have anything to report?" the highwayman questioned it, his hands clasped behind his back.

The clockwork soldier gave a long spiel and all the while, the highwayman was scribbling down something. He always kept up with hour eleven.

"Thank you for your report but I need you to stay for a moment," my highwayman replied as he glossed over his notes.

"That's a bad word," I meekly pointed out one that always meant bad things.

He sighed out an agreement as he made circular movements around some markings he made.

The clockwork soldier chirped when the highwayman addressed him.

"Hour eleven, do you have access to the king at any moment?"

"When I am not active mostly but, yes, when I am active."

"Alright, I have a response to the king's proclamation."