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Summer’s Goodbye (A micro-story)

Though the sun shone brightly, and the songs of birds still filtered through the air, it was the chill in the wind that declared Summer was at an end. Mornings were brisk and the merchant pulled on his jacket while stepping on his porch, ready to start another day.

Standing on the lower porch step, looking out onto the grassy field, was a fairy. Her thinly veined pink wings shimmered in the morning light and the wind was playing with loose strands of her hair. She had first appeared to the merchant many months before – on that very step – when the snow was melting. Before that day he had only heard stories of the fairy folk. Since her arrival the merchant had a swell of luck and a companionship which had been different than others he had known. Looking at her there now he felt a weight in his stomach.

“Tell me merchant, do you feel it?” Spoke the fairy, her voice light and mixing in with the air as it always did.

The man approached her slowly, stuffing his hands into the jackets pockets. A sense of dread slowly washed over him. “Mmhm,” he nodded, looking out at the field. “The weather is changing. Autumn is here. I’m not worried. I’m more prepared this year than ever I was before.”

With a small shake, the fairy’s wings spread out to their fullest. A small jump and suddenly she was already more than a few feet away from the porch and starting upwards to the sky.

“Wait!” The merchant yelled, running after her. The fairy had come and gone many times throughout the warm seasons, but this time her leaving felt different. Permanent. “Where are you going?”

She paused in her ascent, arms spread wide as she turned around to look at him. Sprinkles of magic fanned out from her wings. “Summer is over, Merchant, I cannot stay with you any longer.”

“You can’t leave. What am I to do without you?” The weight in the merchant’s stomach increased and he reached his arms out to the fairy. She had not only brought him luck over the last few months, but he had grown attached to the mystical creature. And now she was leaving.

The fairy came down and the merchant sighed as he felt the warmth of Summer in the hands she placed on his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her. Though she smiled at him it was sad and looked out of place on that face he had – until now – always seen filled with joy. She spoke softly to him. “I am a child of Spring’s birth, and Summer heat. There is no place for me in the short days of Autumn, or the chilly world of Winter.”

He shook his head, not in disbelief, but because deep down he knew it was true. “Why did you not tell me you were leaving? Were you simply going to leave without saying goodbye?”

The fairy began to pull away, and the merchant strengthened his hold. “I won’t let you go.”

She brushed a hand over his face, and the tips of her fingers ran through his hair. “Goodbye, Merchant. I will always be with you whenever you remember the warmth of the Summer sun upon your face, and the birth of Spring in your heart.”

The merchant loosened his hold and the fairy drifted away from him, once again climbing upwards in the sky. He watched her until he saw her no more, and then he looked longer still at the sky, watching the clouds.

Though he would always remember her, the merchant never saw the fairy again.

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Posted by on October 16, 2015 in story, writing

 

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When things don’t make sense

When the world doesn’t make sense it’s only natural for people to try and, well, make sense of it. We start off by examining the facts, pulling out any logical reasonings for why the events happened and if they could have gone a different way. There has to be something that we didn’t see before. Something that we’re missing. If we could simply discover what that is then maybe, just maybe, we would be able to make sense of whatever madness that has recently been tossed our way.

But the world doesn’t make sense. Like many things, there are moments – fractions in time were everything falls into order – but it doesn’t stay there for long. What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly, isn’t that how the saying goes? If this is the case then how are we to ever make proper sense of anything?

Perhaps we’re not suppose to.

Perhaps this is the reason why people write, or loose themselves in books of fantasy and fiction. They want to escape from this complicated world and into another where they already know that the rules and boundaries of logic are part of someone’s imaginings.

What a great relief it is to sit back and know that, for awhile, you’re going to enjoy being a part of a world that’s different from your own. Virtual worlds and games, we invite our friends to join us in our indulgences so we can have someone to share with. Some of us go at it alone with only the voices in our own heads and meet like minded people along the way. We invite them into our madness, our addictions – quite possibly to help them make sense of us and not solely so we will have company.

I cannot believe that the world will ever make sense because we are all different people and we have different opinions on everything. We don’t understand things the same way, never will, and that is okay. Why then is it that some factions of society try to get people to think the same way about everything? Forcing their agendas as a new standard norm that can be accepted blindly. They try to crush out individuality and, consequently, creativity.

People should never feel out of place, or bad, for not being like everyone else in the room. A nation of people who don’t know how to think for themselves, suppressing original thoughts and ideas of others. Or trying.

When the world doesn’t make sense, when all the facts and figures and fragments of logic fail to come together, people get creative. They either find a way to make it make sense, or they create their own rules and work in those bounds.

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2014 in ramblings

 

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My thoughts are not wrong.

Life is hard. People lie. Bad things happen. Hopes get demolished. Beliefs are challenged. Anything that would make a person satisfied is always threatened by something, even if the only threat is ourselves.

Living on this sort of place I have never been able to understand why people are so against opinions. Why they are so against ideals and things that, to them, is completely bonkers and birthed out in a left field so far away that it’s impossible to see. Why are people so eager to crush the thoughts and opinions of others?

Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that if someone had a thought other than the majorities that it will change the whole system. Even if they don’t like how the current system works, because of fear, they don’t want to see it changed. The biggest way to keep people from formulating thoughts that are not warranted is to keep them from reading. Keep them from seeing the insides of another persons head – unless that person is saying all the things that you want them to say, then it’s okay. The can’t imagine anything different if there is nothing different to think about.

Others may say that it is about control, but people want to have control because they have fear. The two work hand and hand.

One of the most absurd things I always hear when people find out what I do is they say, “Aren’t you a bit old for fairy tales? ” Do they not know that it is the people of my generation, and older, who are writing books and scripts for things that they should have, according to some crazy notion, stopped thinking about years ago? Perhaps they are afraid that if the older generation is dreaming, and thinking outside the box, coming up with new ways to think about subjects and handling problems, that they will teach it to their kids. And those people will dream and the world will stop being the way it is and transform to something new! They’re afraid of the new!

When people are afraid they hold on to what they know, even if they feel it is the wrong thing to do. It’s almost a knee jerk reaction and it takes a rather strong crowbar to get them to budge. Someone told me that I don’t know when to stop playing and that the voices in my head are simply that – voices that I created. If people took time to sit down, with their problems, and talk things out the I believe that things would be better. But we are told that talking to ourselves is wrong, it makes us crazy. There’s nothing wring with it.

There’s nothing wrong with girls wanting to be the MVP in football, or a boy wanting to dance In a ballet. Why must be out down the thoughts and ways if other people, if they do different that out expected norm? Encourage them, even if what they are doing seems silly and off base. Encourage yourself to do something different.

Don’t let anyone tell you that your thought are wrong.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2013 in writing

 

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