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queensdivas · 5 years ago

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Peonies Chapter 1

soOkay so for those of you who didn’t know what the heck just happened. Tumblr decided to screw with the first chapter and not post it properly. Rude I know!

So I jumped on my work computer and going to quickly post it so I don’t get in trouble. Teehee.

Y’all ready for this though! I’m so excited for this one! The vocabulary that I’ve had to use is quite nice and fits the times perfectly!

Next Chapter

masterlist

HERE WE GO!

Peonies a a charming lady

She doesn’t like a spot too shady

Likes to live out in the light

Dressed in red or pink or white

To Bloom brighter than the earth

And to defeat all others

What is it like to be a Duchess who will be Governing a vast amount of Northern Italy? I’m not quite sure yet due to the fact mio padre is still ruling over the land and I’m being tutored in the fine games of politics. Oh do not get me wrong I would rather acquire all of the information of learning to rule rather than taking the responsibility too prematurely.

Handing my reins to the stable boy as I began walking inside the Monastery to meet with Mother Superior Ani. I speak to her for council when it comes to somewhat major decisions in my life. This major decision is traveling to Russia and supporting Catherine in her new life. From what she has told me and what I’ve heard from padre. Russia is an absolute catastrophe.

Something is relaxing about walking through the monastery when the sound of the nuns are singing. The beautiful art of the story of Christ, the only sound besides their songs are the winds blowing and birds chirping. Quite beautiful. Standing in the middle of the courtyard as I waited for Mother Ani to greet me for our chat.

“Good afternoon Lady Chiara.” I was greeted by Sister Calderón along with Sister Grazia. The only set of twin nuns I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

“Good afternoon Sister Calderón. Sister Grazia. I’m assuming that Mother Ani is finishing her afternoon confessions?” Asking them as they both nodded.

“How are we feeling today?” They smiled as they approached me.

“We’re going on a mission trip to Africa very soon!” Sister Calderón cheered as Sister Grazia jumped a little.

“We’re finally leaving!” Sister Grazia exclaimed as I smiled and clapped for them.

“Congratulations you two!”

“I’m assuming they told you about their mission trip?” Mother Ani approached us as they collected themselves in front of her. Nodding and they scurrying off back into the chapel.

“They’re very excited. Mother Ani. I promise not to take much of your time today as I know dinner is soon.”

“It’s quite alright. Shall we stroll in the gardens?” She asked as I nodded. As I mentioned before I go to her for counseling as she is the wisest person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Her wisdom comes from true experience unlike most men in the Catholic Church. We began walking towards the gardens so that we may talk in absolute privacy. I need her advice on my thoughts of going to Russia.

“Mother Ani. What have you heard about Russia?” Halting at my question as I expected her reaction. Shocked and in confusion.

“Why are you asking?” Sighing at her question as we entered the archway into the garden.

“My cousin Catherine has married the Emperor of Russia and I’m quite concerned for her. She’s written some horrific things that have happened to her after only being married to him these past few weeks. He has punched her, killed her bear that he gifted her for their wedding, and even has multiple lovers. I know that’s very normal but that’s not exactly the way Catherine and I were raised. I think I would like to go to Russia and support her as she becomes accustomed to her new life.”

“I say that is a very gracious thing to do for your cousin. But are you prepared to deal with the insanity of the monarch and Russian court?” I’ve heard some very bizarre things about them and I get this feeling Catherine should have some sort of noble ally.

“I have been taught how to deal with any form of court and spoiled Monarchs. And being next in line to Govern these lands, they would not dare to lay a finger on me.They’re too busy with Sweden and if they were to kill me, Italy would align with the Swedish in order to defeat the Russians. So that’s not my concern. My only one being is to keep myself sane. Will you pray for me Mother Ani for a safe return?” We stopped as we faced each other.

“Of course my child. When do you leave?”

“In a few days. Mio Padre is sending me with a brand new horse and arms for self defense. Just in case he says. Needs me to stay alive if I’m to do my duty as a Grand Duchess soon.”

“May God protect you on your journey and your aid in Russia. To think when you were baptized at Basilica di San Francesco. You would become this fair and wise over the years. You will make a beautiful Duchess of Italy.” Her words are always ones of great fulfillment. Always positive and never false. A little overconfident but there’s nothing wrong with having a little confidence in yourself. As long as you can control it without coming off as conceited.

The best gift to bring when arriving at a palace that you're staying for a few weeks is a vast variety of different wines. As a gift I’ve brought wine that has been sitting and aging beautiful for almost sixty years. Both sweet and bitter red wines that as I’ve said, have aged beautifully.

I decided to ride up to the Royal Palace on horseback in order to make an impression on the Emperor when he greets me. Besides if I sit in that carriage another minute my legs and bottom will hate me for the rest of my life.

Leading my carriage (which had my maid Fernanda inside) to see that the front yard of the palace was empty. They must be hunting or in the palace working on running the Empire. Pulling the reigns of my horse as we entered the entryway of the palace into the courtyard. Catherine was standing at the entrance as she looked radiant but yet somewhat good. We were practically sisters till I began my schooling of politics.

Climbing down off my horse as she walked towards me as we both bowed to each other. Which left us giggling at each other to then give each other a hug. I have missed my dear cousin/sister and oldest friend in my life!

“My dear Catherine, it is lovely to see you before me. And an Empress! Last time I saw you we were reading Shakesphere on our boat around Sardinia!” I cheered as we linked arms for us to walk inside the palace.

“I’m glad you have arrived at my new home. Sadly..it is not a home sweet home. Not yet at least.” She commented as I nodded.

“I’ve read in your latest letter and from a few reliable sources. I’m not quite sure how the hell you are managing all of this.” I’m finally able to show my true colors in front of Catherine as I must be proper in front of the family, advisers, and so on and so forth. But with Catherine. It is nothing but honesty and true colors.

“The women of court?” Asking her I could feel her cringe.

“Simple minded with their heads filled with emptiness.” We began walking up the stairs as my servant and others carried my things up the stairs.

“Most of the women in court are filled with only air in their heads. Mother always said that entertaining the women of the court is next to impossible. But don’t worry. I am here and those women don’t know what I will be bringing these next few weeks.” We made it to the top of the stairs as a woman approached us.

“Marial. This is my dear cousin Duchess Chiara! She will be placed in the room next to me and I will be telling her all our plans!” Catherine winked as she had a cheeky smile. Tell me what plans? What has she got up her sleeve?

My room was not as big of course as I am a guest. It was a light blue room that had white flowers painted all over. The bed was very tall and extremely spacious with blue and white bedding. I think in England they would call this the Blue Room. A grand fireplace was lit that was also baby blue with gold trim. Come to think of it there was a lot of gold trim in this room which is sort of weird.

Fernanda and those who were bringing my trucks came into my room as she took around my guest room. I took off my riding hat to throw on the bed as Fernanda sat down on one of the guest chairs.

“It’s very modern. But I miss our home.” I nodded as I began unbuttoning my riding coat.

“So do I already. We remembered to pack Padres guns right?” Asking her as she looked over from the chair.

“Yes. I believe they’re bringing them up now.” She pointed towards the door as the rest of my servant brought in my trunks of different forms of weaponry. My fencing sword, regular sword, muskets, rifles, and pistols. I’m going to hunt some sort of wild beast that lives in this mad land and bring it home as a trinket. A Siberian Tiger would be a very nice trinket to bring home for la famiglia.

Catherine came into the room with her maid in a very powerful march. As if she had something extremely important to tell me. AS in a life or death situation that couldn’t wait to be told.

“We have much to discuss before dinner tonight.” Looking at Fernanda who excused herself. I’ll catch her up on the gossip later.

“Now. I’m glad you decided to come and visit me. I have exciting news that I could use your help desperately with.” She pulled me over to the chairs as her servant stood next to her.

“I’m staging a coup d'état and in dire need of your help.” Not what I was expecting to hear in honesty. A coup? To think last year she was so excited to come to Italy and watch La Serva Padrona. And now a coup?

“I umm..mamma mia a coup? Are you quite sure about this Catherine? I’d rather not see you dead. We have too much fun together.”

“Which is why I have you. You’ve been studying how to rule a land and how to take the necessary steps..

“Catherine. I’ve been raised and tutored in Governing a land to be a Duchess not an Empress.” They’re very different in a weird way..wait why am I making excuses! But I should meet the Emperor to see why she’s forming a Coup and if he’s not as bad as I thought, maybe talk her out of it. Gossip from the court isn’t always trustworthy, obviously.

“Let me experience at least one night with your husband..not sexually of course because that’s disgusting. I sadly can’t be seen helping stage a completely different country's coup. Might make a bad reputation for me. But if it is as bad as everyone is saying. I’m in.” She nodded in my response as a small boy came into our room.

“The Emperor requested your presence.” He told Catherine as she rolled her eyes.

“Get yourself ready for dinner Chiara and make sure you take a drink of something. You’ll definitely need it.” Alcohol? Should’ve brought a few barrels of wine just in case. I’ve never had vodka and I know these Russians drink alcohol as if it was coming from their mothers tit.

~~~

I’ve decided to pull out the big dress tonight as to make an impression on her entire court. The Duchess is here and she’s not meant to be tampered with! My brand new bright red dress that had white trills and designs all across it. I wore the royal sash that was given to me by King Ivrea Spoleto which was pearl white. My hair was of course up (even though it hurts my head a little bit) with pearls wrapping around my mountain of hairstyles. I truly don’t approve of it due to the fact that it takes too long to put up.

“Do I look ready to impress an entire court of Russians.” Looking into the mirror one last time as my chocolate hair looked delectable.

“From what I’ve seen going up and down the stairs of this place. You look absolutely stunning.” Fernanda commented as I smiled at her.

“Oh! You need your knife!” Fernanda commented as I placed my right leg up on the end of my bed as she got into the bottom of my trunk. My grandfather's hunting knife that was given to him by the Queen of Chad when he first took reign. It was a beautiful sycamore that swirled at the base, the blade was a beautiful silver that shines everytime you display it. Even after all these years it looks stunning and deadly. Fernanda allowed me to put on the knife holster around my thigh then placed the knife in its holder.

“Wish me luck for dinner. And I wish you the best of luck with chatting with the servants tonight for dinner. I’ll sneak you some desserts if we have anything that’s a pastry.” Winking at her as she nodded.

Walking out of my room as I opened my fan as I waited for Catherine to come out of her room. I think Fernanda tied my corset a little too tight but not the first time this has happened. Though I’d rather be wearing pants and my button ups. Which will be what I wear when I’m running around the palace. Catherine came out of her room in a beautiful white, pink, and red dress that really made her pure white skin shine. Not to mention her blonde hair shined brightly.

“Are you ready for the show?” She asked as we began walking down the stairs.

“Not quite. But I did sneak a glass of wine into my room so my body is not as tense.” We made it down the bottom of the stairs.

“So who is the biggest ass kisser of the Emperor? There’s always one.”

“His name is Grigor Dymov. He kisses the Emperor's ass so much that he allows his own wife to be his whore.”

“The second hand man married to the Emperors would be whore. If we are to do this I’m assuming we’re going after his right hand man? No. A much more subtle approach will be safer. Not that I’ve made my decision on whether to help, but I'd like to at least like to know your plan of action.”

“We’re first going after Count Orlov who has an understanding of the state of Russia. He’s a modern man who reads all of the famous authors in Europe.”

“I’m assuming he’s in the inner circle then?” Walking down the long hallway then stopping in front of the double doorway.

“Yes. We're here. Just put on a fake smile and we’ll be just fine.”

The doors opened and a wave of heat hit my skin. A mixture of alcohol and what smells like fish hit my nose as I wanted to just go back to my room. But I have to do this and need the impression in order to make my decision.

My fan helped me cool down tremendously as I was looking around at The Emperor's Court. To my right there were some women watching butterflies flying around her in a complete state of awe! They’re butterflies! Oh my goodness it is a show! There of course was dancing in the middle of the room that looked a little unfamiliar. I have to remind myself that I’m not at home and in a completely different country.

Catherine handed me a glass of the clear liquid which is what I’m assuming is Vodka. Lifting my head back as It burned down my entire throat as I shook my head.

“Heavens Catherine!” I laughed as she giggled.

“Definitely helps.” She commented as we began walking further into the room then approaching the women with the butterflies.

“Wow.” Catherine put on this extreme different face and even attitude before me which impressed me.

“I am training them.” The women told us as she began coughing and gagging right in front of us. Holding her hand out to cough out two butterflies! What!

“They do not all make the journey to a new land. Oh and who is this lovely woman.” She asked Catherine as I tried to not scream in horror.

“This is my cousin Duchess Chiara of Italy. This is Aunt Elizbeth of Russia.” We bowed at each other as we sat down on one of the couches that was facing the fireplace. Which of course was absolutely grande with a large elk head hanging above it.

“Let us talk of how you are.” She even had a butterfly drawn on her face! Talk about obsessions.

“I’m quite well. Note my smiling face! My cousin has come to visit me for these next few weeks and I couldn’t be happier.” Smiling as I began looking around the room. Now where is this fat old man that she married and killed her bear! And who also punched her in the stomach.

“I do! Has Emperor Peter also had something to do with this?”

“He has been sweet.”

“Oh. At heart, that is him. You know, as a young boy, Peter would run to his mother, holding aloft a picture he’d drawn or a boat fashioned from leaves, his eyes and words begging for approbation for love. And she would level a gaze at him and hold him in it, and he would fall silent and go so still. And then tears would run from his eyes, and his whole body would begin shaking uncontrollably, and urine would pool at his feet...it was a curious phenomenon.” Catherine and I shared the same facial expression as Elizabeth finished her story to us about Peter. So obviously he wasn’t an old man as I thought and was just a grown child who can’t stand the thought of someone not loving him. Have I made the correct character judgment through his own Aunt? Yes.

“Why would she do that?” Catherine asked as I was also intrigued.

“Everyone has their thing. Hers was cruelty. So I’m asking for some forgiveness, some empathy, from one I can tell is filled with both.” So he’s just a messed up King with mamma and papa issues. Quite ordinary in the monarchs. We began watching Elizabeth playing with her butterflies as a servant offered me a tray of tiny glasses of vodka. Taking one, drinking it then placing it back on the tray. A snap came from Elizabeth as I noticed a butterfly then landed on her finger.

“That is incredible.” I commented as she looked at me.

“Indeed.” Elizabeth went into her own world as Catherine moved herself towards me.

“Ready to meet him?” She asked as I shook my head.

“Non..Non Catherine.” Grabbing my hand for us to start walking towards him. Pushing past all the dancers as I stood a few inches behind her.

“Good evening husband!” Her husband was with another man as I looked down to see he’s in a skirt? They both turned towards her as he had no interest in speaking to us.

“Empress.” He took a sip of his wine as his eyes drifted away from us. Why is he wearing a skirt?

“You look marvelous! And your skirt, it is very pretty.” Why is Catherine kissing her own husband's ass? What woman needs to kiss her own husband's ass! He turned towards us as he flashed himself. Luckily it was all covered.

“Thanks. It also allows one’s cock to swing free in the air. It’s marvelous. Old Madam Bolzoi whipped it up.”

“It’s genius. I apologize if I have been sour face lately. I had my blood in, and you know how that goes..Rrrr.” An excuse that is older than time itself. But usually works because men think they're always being over dramatic during our blood. When in reality they are just horrid creatures.

“Oh, right. I see. Well that explains much.”

“But I feel much restored.” I haven’t seen this much ass kissing since Peter was kissing Jesus’ ass.

“Who the hell are you?” His eyes drifted towards me as I took a step forward.

“My dear husband is my cousin Duchess Chiara of Italy.”

“Emperor.” Bowing in front of him as I then held up myself strong and ready to take on this madman.

“It is truly an honor to be invited here to stay in your breath taking palace. I bring gifts from my home being a beautiful batch of sweet and bitter red wines. In gratitude for letting me stay in your home.” Turning towards the door as about six barrels of wine entered the room as everyone began cheering.

“I hope you enjoy them as a sign of peace from Italy.” Smiling as I knew Catherine would enjoy that little show. Have to make sure the Emperor doesn’t see me as a threat and the goal was achieved.

“God you are stunning. Grigor doesn’t she make your cock hard?” My eyes widened at his statement as all I could do was just stand there.

“Extremely.” He shook his head as I wanted to shoot him. Back home if I was to be talked to like this, the men would be beating the life out of him. I promise you that’s exactly how that happens. My sister was once insulted by an Austrian diplomat..and let’s just say he ended up floating in the Adriatic sea the next morning.

“Tell me, great Emperor. What is the nature of this lively banquet? I've yet to catch up with the issues of Russia.” Everytime I open my mouth up to him, I can feel my skin twisting in regret and my tongue wanting to stop waggling.

“We are honoring some of our wounded who finally won a battle for us against Sweden. Poor fucking guys.” Catherine and I turned our heads to see them in the corner of the room.

“No eyes that one. To never see a naked women or a deer in full fucking fight again. Still, he may fuck ugly women and be happy now.” I’ve never wanted to slap someone so hard in the face!

“Huzzah!” Catherine cheered as she looked completely uncomftorable.

“Let us dance!” Swinging Catherine onto the dance floor as I took a few steps back into the crowd. Grigor I believe his name stood closely beside me as I noticed he was looking at me.

“My apologies Duchess. I did not mean anything by what I said towards you.” Stopping the waving of my fan to face him.

“The right hand man of the Emperor yes?” Asking him as we faced each other.

“Grigor Dymov at your service.” He bowed as I turned off my fake smile.

“I have no service for someone like you. The Emperor's right hand man who kisses his ass so much that shit must be stuck in your ears. I would pity you but being married to the Emporers would be whore. Now that is just..sad. Excuse me.” Walking away from him as I turned my head slightly to see that he was in utter shock.

We walked into the dinning room after the so called dance that her dellusionaly husband made her do as if they were drunk. Catherine and I entered the dining room as The Emperor kicked some sort of General out of his chair as he then moved Elizabeth out of her seat down one more.

“The fat ass gladly gave up his seat. As no Duchess shall be seating with the court members. Greedy fucks.” Peter laughed as I smiled at him. What a rude bastard. But not completely wrong about the people of court.

“Thank you Emperor.” Sitting down as one of the servants pushed my chair in. There were three glasses that sat in front of me at the table. One was filled with wine, another water, then finally a massive one filled with vodka.

A dish appeared at me that looked like some sort of dumpling dish with a side of red..pasty soup? Grabbing my spoon as I poked it as it was meat? Beets? Both? Dipping my spoon into the soup as it tasted..well. The beets were very spiced with a hint of vinegar. The meat was especially spiced but has a sweet after taste. Interesting.

From what I gathered about the Emporer. He’s literally a child that requires all the attention and love from every interaction he has with a person. Which doesn’t come as a surprise due to the fact that the Duke in Sardinia acted just like him, but he ended up jumping into the sea as he learned no one truly loved him. So once Peter realizes that no one truly loves him, maybe he’ll jump into the mouth of a Tiger.

“Tell me Dear. I hope you’re here to bring Catherine happiness. And not here to start trouble between the both of them.” Her Aunt Elizabeth asked me as I took a sip of my water.

“Well. When I received her letter about what happened between them..the bear and the punching. I care about her as if she was my own sister. All I’m here for is her happiness.” A butterfly landed on my nose which made her giggle.

“They see a good soul in you and love it. I hope that you feel welcomed to our home, and it was a good idea bringing wine as a gift. Peter loves his alcohol.” She giggled as I looked down to my nose so watch the butterfly crawl around the tip of it.

“Bring in those Swedish heads!” What? Is that code for a dessert? A servant took away my plate of food that I didn’t even finish yet as I noticed a tray was coming in that had hair on it?

“We will eat dessert under their beady gaze!” Peter giggled as a tray was placed in front of me that..had a Swedish head on it..

God please forgive me.

My stomach turned into knots as I felt the little dinner I had was making its way back up through my throat. Catherine and I looked at each other in disgust as I wanted to run from the room, get on my horse and ride home. Now I see..A coup sounds like a wonderful idea.

The pudding or whatever it was looked delicious but..I can’t..The vomit went into my mouth but I swallowed it back down then drinking my entire glass of water. Just breath Chiara and it will be almost over.

“You rude fucker!” Peter yelled as he lifted his head up to look at his face. Standing up as he began digging his finger into the head.

“Everyone! Poke their fucking eyes out!” He looked so proud of himself! Everyone excluding Catherine and I just sat there as the sound of squishing and eyeballs falling onto the trays filled my heads.

“If you don’t he’ll kill you.” She whispered standing up with the man's head. Doing the sign of the cross as I stood up to lift his head.

“Mi Dispiace. Possa Dio avere pietà della tua anima.” Catherine turned her head as I felt my eyes watering. A single tear fell as I dug my fingers into the first eye. The squishing, blood beginning to drip down my arm as the first eye popped out.

“HUZZAH! DEATH TO THE SWEDISH!” Peter yelled as everyone cheered, drinking their vodka and smashing the glasses onto the floor. Dropping the head onto the tray as everyone began leaving the dining room. My right hand was covered in blood as my toes curled up in my heels from the sight.

The dry blood on my hands was something I couldn’t stop looking at. It’s not that I’ve never seen blood before in my life..but when it comes from..a soldier who probably didn’t even want to fight..I hope that God is merciful to them. They needed to be buried and given a chance to enter the gates of Heaven.

I couldn’t move for..I’m not quite sure how long at this point. Long enough that the servants came into the dinning room to start cleaning up. A woman with a large sack began dropping them into a burlap sack.

“What will you do with them?” Asking the women as she looked up at me.

“Burn them.” No..no. They do not deserve to be burned. Catherine came into the room as I stood up and wanted to scream.

“I’m a Catholic...you’re an Orthodox..we both know their souls can not be saved..but they deserve some sort of burial. Is there a priest in this wretched palace?” She looked upon the dining room then walked over to the servant and then over to me.

“Let them gather the heads and we’ll go speak to the Bishop.” The servant handed us the sack of heads as we began carrying them down the hall as she led me to the Bishops room. It was much heavier than I thought it would be. Never thought I would be thinking a bag of decapitated heads would be heavy! Knocking on the door as he flung it open in annoyance of being distrubed.

“We need you to give these a Christian burial.” SHe ordered as I opened the bag so he could see the horrors of war.

“I can only do a whole body.” He was about to shut the door but I believe the faces that were displayed on Catherines and my face weren't going to take no as an answer. I will send a rider to the Vatican if I have to in order for them to have some sort of entering the gates of heaven.

“I could bless them.” The Bishop told us as I nodded in acceptance of the deal.

A pound of thunder rang out as the heads were gently placed into the hole in the ground. Hard cold rain poured down upon us for Catherine and I to hold hands. We watched as the dirt was beginning to pile on top of their heads. I grabbed my rosary that I wore around my neck for my fingers to hold my cross. The Bishop went on reading from the bible as I softly spoke my own prayer.

“Il Signore ti benedica e ti mantenga, mostrarti la sua faccia e abbi pietà di te. Volse lo sguardo verso di te e ti dava pace. Il Signore ti benedica…..Amen.” Finishing my prayer for the Bishop finished his prayer as he left Catherine and I out in the rain.

“I want to rip the crown off his head myself.” Blurting out as Catherine turned her heads towards me.

“A Coup d'état..sounds like a magnificent plan..”

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#grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor #Gwil #Gwilym Lee #Gwily #The Great #Grigor Dymov x o/c #The Great hbo #elle fanning #catherine the great #peter the third #peter of russia #nicholas hoult #Marial #Count Orlo #Russia #Leo #Vlad

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the-jade-cross · 4 years ago

Text

The Lannister Wolf - Part 4 Chapter 9

Evelyn kept glancing back at Jojen, waiting for the boy to go into a trance all of a sudden without warning and she wanted to be ready to catch him should he fall. The boy was recovering quickly considering that the only thing keeping his wounds from killing him again was Lady’s death.

“To be honest,” Jojen told her, “I never dreamt of this place, nor you… or even my resurrection. I saw things that never came to pass but now that I think about it, I wonder if those things will occur, just not yet. It was like my visions wer blocked… by the fog of death.”

Evelyn nodded in agreement, “no one truly knows what will happen to them after they die…. Or after they come back to life. What were some of the things you saw that did not come to pass? Or is that confidential information?”

Jojen chuckled and shook his head, “not to the elementals. The things I see are vague and could mean multiple things but from what I can gather, there will be a fleet of dragons fighting the evil one… and at their head is a dragon of pure gold that will vanquish the stone hearted dragon queen usurper.”

“Daenerys,” Evelyn mumbled, earning herself a nod from Jojen.

“I do not know how or when this will come to pass but it is not too far off… and there is one other thing that I keep seeing,” the boy explained. “A girl… a child more like with curls as black as raven’s wings but skin a faded pale shade of cocoa. She never speaks a word in my dreams and I never see her surroundings but she is there, just staring at me like a ghost.”

Evelyn at first thought that the boy had seen Nanteza but the girl’s hair was brown, not black. “Perhaps she is not a ghost but… she has not yet been born. You said so yourself that she was a child so perhaps she will be born in the years to come.”

Jojen smiled, “You are very insightful Lady Stark. I can see why Bran looked up to you so much.”

Evelyn smiled at his words before she stopped in front of one of the huts that had the appearance of a smithy shop. A young boy who looked in his early teens stood hammering a horse shoe carefully outside.

“Why don’t you go on without me?” Evelyn asked Jojen, “I have a few things I need to do.”

The boy nodded and went off to explore on his own while Evelyn approached the young boy, “hello there.” she greeted. “Do you think you could make something for me?”

The boy looked at her shyly from under a headful of golden curls, his green eyes looking strangely familiar.

“MY pa is a better smithy than I am. He is Izac. I’m just learning.” The boy explained.

Evelyn smiled, “I understand, but I would really like you to make it for me. I promise that I am not looking for perfection.”

The boy pondered this, chewing his bottom lip and shifting from one foot to the other, “Okay… I’ll try. I am Camron by the way. What would you like me to make?”

Evelyn pulled a sheet of paper from her smock pocket and handed it to the boy. “Thank you Camron. Hey look like this but about the size of your palm.”

The lad studied the sketches before he nodded, “Small things take longer but I can try my lady.”

The girl beamed, “Just call me Evelyn. Thank you Camron. I will come by to see how they are going in a few days. Pray tell, do you happen to know where the Temple of Earth is?”

The boy turned and pointed up at one of the mountains that flanked the valley. “Up near the top is a giant tree. You cannot miss it. though, it has been empty for years and no one has been able to enter since Varsha disappeared.”

Evelyn nodded, “Thank you young sir. I will keep that in mind.”

As the girl headed off, she wondered if Varsha would appear when she reached the temple just like how Brisingr and Audra had. It was a stretch and just a hope in the back of her mind at that but she could not leave the valley until she had learnt the secret of the earth. The trek up the mountain was not that difficult since there was a small worn path that went up the side of the mountain. When Evelyn reached the halfway point, she found the tree. Camron was right, it was enormous, possibly forty feet in diameter not to mention that it was twice as tall as any tree Evelyn had seen.

Carved into the front of the trunk was a door but it looked like it was glued shut, almost impossible to see unless close up. Evelyn ran her finger over the intricate carvings and she felt a tingle run down her spine as if she could sense someone behind her. she turned around, expecting to find that Zinzi had followed her but there was no one there.

When Evelyn turned back around, she jumped back and reached for her bow in a defensive manner for standing between her and the temple was a woman… but her surprised was only momentary since she soon recognized the woman… as herself!

She wore heavy chainmail and leather, something Evelyn had never worn before and her hair was longer… was this perhaps a vision like the ones Jojen had?

She looked so real and yet… so thin and airy like she would blow away in a breeze. The other Evelyn lifted her hands in a cupping manner and there in her hands there appeared an egg… an egg so golden that it looked too unreal to be real. Then Evelyn remembered Jojen’s words about his dream… was that egg the egg of the golden dragon in his dream?

It must be! She watched as the other Evelyn lifted the egg until it was level with her face and she rested her forehead against it. the object seemed to glow brighter until the light flooded the other Evelyn’s body and then… the light faded as did the other Evelyn and the gg. Evelyn blinked, turning around a few times to be sure that her vision twin wasn’t going to reappear.

“Well that was both educational and puzzling,” the girl muttered to herself, brushing her hands over her face, “is Jojen’s sight rubbing off on me?”

As the girl turned to head back down the mountain, she heard another noise like before and looked back over her shoulder, hoping it was not another mystery visit from ghost Evelyn. Instead, the carving of the door in the tree trunk had begun to glow in a pale green as if it were on fire and the fire was green.

Suddenly the light faded and Evelyn waited for the door to creak open but instead, the green fire spread to the ground and began to trail around as if it were a snake on a mission. As the fire began to decisively flow downhill, Evelyn chose to follow it, watching as the fire moved from place to place but leaving where it touched, unburnt and unscathed… it was like the fire was not fire at all.

The fire just about reached the valley when it took a sharp left and headed deep into the woods that surrounded the village. Evelyn wondered if the fire would ever stop or reach its destination when she came upon a clearing and there in the center was a large nest made of stone and vines… and there rested in the nest was an egg… and egg as golden as liquid gold and about the size of a large grapefruit.

The green fire leapt into the nest and that was when Evelyn saw that the gg was resting on a tiny pyre that was constantly burning in green flame. Evelyn slowly approached the net before she reached out a hand to touch the egg. Just when she was about to, the egg wiggled and Evelyn reattracted her hand quickly. How on earth did this egg get here and what’s more, why had she been brought to it?

*******

Evelyn tilted her head curiously at the large golden egg. to say that she was puzzled was an understatement. up until that part, she had been informed of all the peculiar things that would occur but this time she was not.

The girl approached the nest and would have touched the egg if a voice had not spoken and the girl spun around to find a large handful of the villagers, including Jojen, Brienne and Podrick standing there while staring at her with wide eyes. Marinah was the first to approach.

“the egg called to you,” she observed in a whisper, “that has not happened since Varsha disappeared. The egg has remained here for centuries, waiting for the time when its host will appear. We have remained here ever vigilant over the egg but it has never hatched or even moved... not like how it just did for you.”

Evelyn turned and looked back at the egg in slightly perplexity, “its host? What is in there? A demon?”

Izac pushed through the crowd to stand beside his wife, “that we do not know. All we know is that the prophecy that has been scribed on the egg since it appeared here 3000 years ago says that.”

Evelyn peered closer at the egg and sure enough, there inscribed on the egg were words written surprisingly, in the common tongue. The girl circled the nest and the egg as she carefully read the prophecy inscription.

“Like the trusting patient child that waits ceaselessly for the return of their seeking mother, thus shall I remain until man has taken for granted the light and life given to them and then shall my host appear. Like a gallant Knight home from the wars shall they appear. My owner, my source of life, my life itself... my mother. When we shall join, we will be one heart beating within two beings inseparable in death as we were in life. Await the arrival of the host.” she read aloud.

Evelyn turned to look at the townspeople who were watching patiently, probably wondering why nothing had erupted yet in flames. When the girl looked at Brienne and Jojen, Brienne had a concerned look on her face and Jojen looked stunned but with a faint smile on his face.

He and Evelyn were thinking the same thing. this was the Golden dragon he had seen in his dreams who would protect the world from the scorch of the insane dragon queen usurper.

Ignoring her common sense that was telling her to turn and walk away, Evelyn approached the nest until she was leaning over it. She could not quite reach the egg so she placed one hand in the green flame and leant forward until she was able to scoop the egg into her hands.

When she turned around with egg cradled against her chest, the whole village had fallen to their knees, including Brienne, Podrick and Jojen who all looked ready to cry.

“so it is true,” Izac whispered, “the prophecy has finally come true after 1000 years.”

Evelyn frowned, “what are you talking about?”

Brianne smiled, “the Targaryen’s led everyone to believe that if you could survive fire without burning then you were a dragon but the Targaryen’s have ingested an herb for centuries that protected their hide from normal fire. That was why only some Targaryen’s survived fire. But what they kept hidden and what was believed to be only a myth is that only a real dragon can survive any flame, including the flame of a dragon that burns hotter than any normal flame. My lady, you are the true dragon mother, the Dragonoid...Dragon Queen.”

Evelyn swallowed, and she had been hoping to keep a low profile while she was here! The silence was broken by the earth shaking and the deep rumbling noise filling the air like a warning horn before an attack.

Everyone leapt to their feet and sprinted back down the hill to the village. The villagers who had not journeyed to the nest stood all together near the Great Hall staring like gob fish up at the left hand cliff that overlooked the valley.

Izac rushed over to the maester, “what is happening? What was that earthquake?”

The old man shook his head, “that was no earthquake. That my lad was a dragon.”

(let me know if you get that quoteJ)

As everyone lifted their eyes to see what the old man was talking about, several gasps erupted from the crowd and Jojen grinned at Evelyn.

“it seems like you got the Dragon's attention.”

There, rising from the side of the Cliff like a giant stone avalanche... was a dragon. The beast was enormous, larger than any of the other dragons Evelyn had studied under with before, with a strong, stony build that seemed to suit the Dragon’s element. Earth.

Trees grew on the Dragon's back, giving the creature the appearance that he had a spine. Powerful legs made of stone rumbled the earth, explaining the earthquake earlier. the dragon stopped his movement, standing on the edge of the Cliff, looking down in the Valley like the giant dragon that he was.

As the Varsha opened his mouth and roared, Evelyn felt a smile bloom on her face. It was not the reptilian vibrating bleat that Drogon, Rhaegar and Viserys made, nor was it the sharp, harsh growl like a giant Wildcat that she heard from Brisingr and it was certainly not like the echoing bird song noise that Audra made.

No, this was the bellow of the dragon of earth. Strong like a rumbling earthquake, the crumbling sound of an avalanche, the deep bugle of a wild bear tenfold. That was the call of Varsha.

A few people screamed while the rest covered their ears but Evelyn drank in the sound like she had been deprived of it. It was the sound of her kind.

A deep voice like a deep baritone clashing with timbre left the dragon as he slowly scaled down the cliff towards the villagers, eyes locked on the black haired, golden eyed dragon girl who still clutched the golden egg to her chest.

“Evelyn, the Warlock. I have been waiting for you. I see you got my gift. Clever thing that, only responding to the host. I never thought it would wake up.”

Evelyn looked down at the egg, “your gift? Don't tell me you laid this thing!”

Varsha chuckled, another earthquake rumbling, “far from it. I have watched that egg since it appeared out of thin air after the four Dragons of the Elements came together on the night of the Order of the Pinnacle and joined all of their power together. That egg was the result and because they trusted my talents of disguise and elusiveness, not to mention I was the strongest to protect the egg, the other Dragons left the egg to me to protect.”

The villagers all parted as the dragon reached the ground and strode towards Evelyn. The girl looked up at the giant dragon like the girl saw dragons every day at breakfast which was very quickly becoming reality.

“Are you ready to begin your training lady Evelyn? Brisingr has taught you to feel and Audra in her own peculiar way has taught you to listen but now, you must open your eyes can see things that no one else has ever seen or can see. You will spot an enemy's movements before the enemy even thinks of it. You will see with the eyes of a dragon for long distances, in tune with what you are and are not searching for and soon, if my teaching skills have not gone and rusted up on me, you will be able to see people 1000 miles away... with your eyes closed.”

Evelyn grinned, “like the sight? Like what Jojen has?”

Varsha chuckled, “it is similar but you will not warg into another being... you will be awake and present wherever you are but at the same time you will see the West of the West, the East of the East, and as North beyond the Wall as North exists and so South that you will sweat just from seeing it. Your eyes have been closed up until now Evelyn but now, they will be opened.”

Evelyn sighed and nodded firmly, “I am ready to begin my training.”

Varsha smiled before nodding towards the egg in Evelyn’s hand. “but first and foremost, you will need to know a little bit about that thing you carry. Best to be prepared before it hatches on you.”

As Varsha turned destroyed up towards the temple, Evelyn moved to ask the dragon when the egg would hatch but she got the answer to her question when the egg began to wiggle and there, right on the letter ”O” of the word “mother”, a crack had appeared and was growing fast!

“oh dragon scales,” the girl squeaked as she hurried after the dragon, constantly telling the creature within the egg to hold off a little longer until she learned how to be a host. Whatever that entailed of her to learn.

#got #game of thrones #Jaime Lannister #jaime lannister x oc

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yuriiocs · 4 years ago

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Blood Brothers

Oneshot regarding Bennett and Alexander. TW for intense scenes and some violence.

“Alex, wait up!” Bennett called out breathlessly, sprinting after his older brother. It wasn’t fair, Alexander was taller and faster! He’d never catch up at this rate. Ben came to a staggering halt, doubled over and panting, resting his hands on his bruised and bandaged knees. He felt woozy, as if the ground were going to tip out from under him, but after a moment he was able to catch his breath and stand upright. He scowled a bit as Alex came waltzing over, a smug grin on his face, but he stayed just out of reach.

“Giving up already? We only just started,” the elder of the two taunted, tilting his head. He crossed his arms, watching Ben carefully as if he half-expected him to lurch forward and tag him.

“It isn’t fair,” Ben whined softly, “your legs are longer so you’re faster! We always play tag and you always win. Not fair.” The boy stomped his foot, giving a soft huff as he crossed his arms as well, mirroring Alex. “Can’t we do something different?”

“Like what? Go pick flowers, play ring-around-the-Rosie? No thanks.” Alex shook his head. “Either we play what I want, or you go back with Mom and I go play with my friends.”

“No, no!” Bennett shrieked. While he did indeed enjoy spending time with their mother, he’d spent far too much time already kneading bread and watering the tomato plants in the garden. He liked hanging out with Alex. It made him feel grown, like he could handle himself… Except for when he couldn’t.

Alexander was fourteen, now. A young adult is what their father said. He did more work to help support the family, and when he wasn’t, he left the house to hang out with his ‘friends’. Ben hadn’t met them. He supposed they were some of the other children in the area. He didn’t bother to ask. Alex was the only friend he needed. Except… Alex was growing more and more distant. He had to be told to bring his little brother along to play, to get him out of the house.

When they had been younger, they were nearly inseparable. To an extent, it was the same- only, it was extremely one-sided. Ben absolutely adored Alex and wanted to do everything he did. Alexander, on the other hand, grew easily annoyed with his kid brother.

“Don’t take it personally,” Mother had said one day, gently petting Ben’s fiery red hair as he cried into her shoulder. “He’s growing up. It happens to us all, my sweet little devil. He still loves you. He just has a lot going on now.”

Now, as Ben looked at the teen, he knew he had to prove himself. He wasn’t a little kid. He could do everything his brother could do!

“Tag is boring. Can’t you think of a different game?” Bennett insisted, pouting.

“Boring, is it?” Alex scoffed. “Alright, then. If you say so. But you can’t tell Mom. We’ll go to the woods.”

“The woods?” Ben echoed, eyes going round, “But we aren’t allowed-”

“Are you scared? I thought you wanted to do something interesting. By all means, if you’re scared, you can go home.”

“No! I’m not scared! I’ll go!” Ben huffed, hands on his hips.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go, then.”

And so the brothers ventured off, Bennett casting wary glances back towards the field that stretched behind the house the further they strayed from it. Soon, the view was replaced with tall oaks, towering overhead and shading the ground below. It was colder here, almost unwelcoming. Alex seemed comfortable, though, so Ben trusted he knew where he was going.

They continued in silence until they reached a cluster of trees that had grown together, intertwined and knotting at the base. The combined trunks had multiple carvings on them, showing the pale wood underneath the moss-covered bark. Alex hoisted himself up into the tree with ease, climbing into the lowest-hanging branch and perching there as if he had hundreds of times before. Which, at this point, Bennett believed that he had.

“So you want to play something more interesting than tag,” Alex thought aloud, tapping his chin. “I have an idea.”

“Well, tell me then!” Ben pressed, struggling to pull himself up into the tree as well. He made it halfway, before Alex sighed and reached down, pulling him up as well.

“How about we play Angels and Demons?” The older suggested, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Alex!” Ben hissed, “We aren’t allowed- it’s outlawed! We’ll be in trouble if anyone sees!”

“ Oh, please. You can’t believe everything that Mother puts into that tiny skull of yours,” Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s perfectly fine. Trust me. Look, this will be your fortress, you’ll be the Demon, and I’ll be the Angel.”

Bennett seemed to contemplate it, before nodding. “Okay. Okay, I’ll play.” He furrowed his brow, still a bit troubled. “Where are our weapons, then?”

“Down there, of course. You have to find one.” Alex hopped down, picking up a short stick. “See this? A dagger. And this,” he snatched up a longer stick, “a spear.”

“Oh! Oh! I want to pick one out!” Ben hopped down, catching his balance, and hurrying to find his own. He picked up a thick branch, hardly able to hold it up. “I have a sword!”

Alex smirked, shaking his head. “Look at you, you can hardly even carry it. How do you expect to defeat me with that thing?”

“I can too!” Ben insisted, “I can too hold it up!”

“Okay, if you say so, Demon.” Alex turned his back to him, pondering his own weapon before deciding on the ‘spear’. “Now, if you know what’s best for you, you’ll leave this fortress and pray for forgiveness. Allow me to take your soul and cleanse it.”

Ben blinked, before holding up his ‘sword’, giving it a swing. “Never!” He cried, “This is my fortress! No stinky Angel is going to take it!”

Alex turned, bring his spear around to attempt to swipe Ben off his feet. “Fool! Repent, and I might spare you,” he growled.

Ben squeaked and stepped back, giving another feeble swing, “Can’t make me! I’ll kill you before you can cleanse me!”

Something, then, changed in Alex. He stepped closer, and this time, he hooked the play-spear behind Bennett’s legs, sending the other to the ground with a grunt. “In the name of the Holy Spirit,” he declared, standing over him, “I cleanse thee-”

He was cut off when Ben whacked him, hard, with the branch. “Nuh-uh, dumb Angel! No way!” The younger was giggling, still playful, but gasped when the branch was yanked from his grasp and thrown aside.

Alex stooped down, pinning Ben down. His eyes had gone cold, almost angry looking. “Don’t resist.”

“Alex, what are you-”

“I said don’t resist!” he hissed, and in a swift movement, he brought his stick down, fast and hard.

If Ben hadn’t jolted to the side, it surely would have impaled him. It stuck in the ground beside his head, leaving nothing but a rough scratch down his cheek.

“Stop it! You hurt me, jerk!” Bennett cried out, kicking the elder in the stomach. Alex came back with a grunt, falling backward off him. “I- I’m bleeding! You hurt me…!”

Alex stared at his brother with a small frown. “Oh.” He reached forward, thumb brushing over the wound. He looked at the scarlet stain left on the pad of it when he pulled his hand away again. He shook his head. “... If you had picked a different weapon, you could have fended me off. It’s your fault, idiot. Let’s get back, then… And don’t tell Mom or Dad what happened. Otherwise, I won’t bring you out anymore.”

Ben, holding back tears, sniffled and nodded. He got up, hiccupping softly, and followed his brother back to the house.

Eight Years Later

“... You were supposed to be dead,” Alexander breathed, staring at his brother, who was very much so alive. “No. You’re dead.”

“I’m not dead, Alex. I thought you were,” Ben was just as shocked. But here they were, one side Angels, the other Demons. Caught right in between the opposing sides. “I- Mom, and Dad… They were… And you were gone… But you’re here, and you’re okay… You’re okay…!”

His joy wasn’t reciprocated. Alex had a blank expression, but the anger growing in his eyes was apparent. He tensed, reaching for the sword at his side. Ben’s smile fell at that.

“Alex…? Alex, it’s me-”

“I know.”

“What are you-”

“Finishing the job.” It came out as a snarl, and Alexander lurched forward.

Bennett felt the sword breeze past his face, only inches away. If Seth hadn’t yanked him away, it would have struck him down. Game over. He staggered back, catching his balance. And all Hell broke loose. Angels surged forward, past him, ignoring him. The two sides clashed, Demons quick to react to the agitators. But now, Ben was left unprotected, vulnerable. And Alex used that to his advantage.

Alexander stepped forward, slashing again. Bennett had half the mind to use his bow, blocking the blade. He was on the defense now, doing all he could to avoid the deadly blade.

“Alex! Stop, what are you doing?!” He yelped. He wouldn’t keep up at this rate. He was a sniper, never showing strength in close combat like this. He could fend for himself for a while, but not long. The dagger at his hip seemed a mile away. He couldn’t catch a break to reach for it- and even if he did, what then? He stood no chance. Alex had speed and strength on his side. Ben was nimble, but that wouldn’t be enough to save him.

“You’ll ruin everything, you bastard,” Alex seethed, fury in his eyes as he swung at the younger. “All my hard work, just for you to still be alive… I won’t let you ruin this. I won’t! I’ll kill you myself!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Ben yelped, ducking and stepping back again. “What are you doing? Are you insane?!”

“Even if I am,” another swing, “it’ll all be well worth it. All of it is worth my sanity.”

Ben was about to ask what he meant when he heard a cry from the battle raging behind them. Seth’s voice. He made the mistake of turning to look, and the butt of Alex’s sword connected to his skull with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, vision swimming.

Alexander stood over his younger brother with a wicked smirk, moving to pin him down. Ben didn’t fight it. He couldn’t.

“Alex,” he croaked, “we’re family. Why are you doing this…?”

“Because, dear brother, when all is said and done, I’ll be on the right side of history. This is how things were meant to be. I only wish our parents had been wise enough to see that. Unfortunately, they had to go.”

“You killed them,” the words left Bennett before he realized, putting two and two together finally. “They’re dead because of you. You… You gave them up.”

“Bingo. You never were the brightest, Ben. I guess some things really don’t change… But, yes. I gave away their plans to organize against Ananchel, and they were taken care of. What I failed to realize, is that you got away. You were never supposed to survive. But I suppose it’s better late than never.”

“They loved us. They loved you, Alex!” Ben raised his voice, it coming out as half a sob, half a shout. “They loved us! How could you?”

“Bullshit. They never cared for me. You were always the favorite. And that’s why I’m going to take pleasure in killing you myself. Be sure to say hello to Mother for me, won’t you?”

“You’re evil,” Bennett spat, tears spilling. “Plain evil.”

“Perhaps. But I’ll be rewarded greatly for this. I’ll kill you, then your demon friend, and return Gazardiel to Ana. I’ll be seen as a hero-” Alex broke off, his eyes widening. He looked down, shakily. “... No. No, you- No.”

Ben had snatched his dagger, and it was now embedded deep in Alexander’s side. Ben twisted suddenly, and pulled the blade forward and out.

Alex let out a blood-curdling scream, his weapon dropping from his hands. He rolled off to the side of Bennett, desperately pawing at the now-large gash in his side, blood spilling through his fingers. “No-! You piece of shit, no…! What have you done?!”

“Where’s your God now, Alex?” Ben pushed himself up to his feet, staring coldly at his older brother, bloodied dagger clutched in his hand. “In the name of the Holy Spirit, I cleanse thee.”

“Shut up!” Alex screeched, struggling to reach for his sword. “Shut up, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

“Was she worth it? Will she save you?” Ben hissed. “I would tell you to say hello to Mother for me, but I highly doubt that where you’re going, you’ll see her. Beg for your forgiveness and repent. Maybe then, you’ll have the chance.” He turned away, leaving his brother screaming after him.

By the time he found Seth, the small skirmish had ceased, the Angels retreating. Outnumbered. Gaz had been kept safe, and Seth only had a few cuts here and there. The forces decided to retreat while they had time, heading back to base.

Seth walked side by side with Bennett, frowning when he glanced over. “Are… You okay?”

“Fine,” Ben murmured. He looked a little worse for wear. His expression was hard to read, blank.

“You have a cut on your cheek.”

“Oh…” he vaguely felt himself reaching up, pulling his hand away to see red staining his fingers. “I’m okay… it can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” There was a pause. “You’re… positive you’re okay? Your brother-”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Ben spoke softly. “Please. I… can’t right now. Anything but that.”

“Alright,” Seth agreed without question. He knew better than to push. He too was shocked to find out Bennett’s brother was still alive- Ananchel’s champion at that. He could only imagine how Ben felt right now. Anything but peachy, he was sure.

But this was war. Nothing was out of bounds. They had learned that early on, and now was no exception. The only thing Seth could do now was be there for Ben when he was ready to talk about it. Or cry about it. Or both. He wouldn’t judge. He knew it would hit the human hard when he came to full terms with it, when he had the chance to focus on himself. And part of him felt a little bit guilty for bringing Ben into all of this.

There was no changing the past, though. He knew that, as did every human and demon with them. They could only keep pushing to better their future. He spared a quick glance towards Gaz, frowning a little.

Hopefully, their future would be brighter. Softer. Kinder. And they could heal together.

#prompt #my writing #oc;bennett

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nexstage · 5 years ago

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Starless

Andy Demayo: Changes passing, essence unmoving

Life is a roller coaster of changes.

The weather changes: one day it's all sunny then the next day you are drenched because of the rain.

Society changes too. The once venerated politicians become a thing of the past people want to remember or forget and new candidates prepare themselves to compete in elections.

The whole Earth changes. Millions of years ago, dinosaurs inhabited every piece of land as if their reign was eternal, then, a moment later, a rain of asteroids kicked them out of their throne and humanity came, taking their place.

Many things change. Fashion, religion, family structure, romantic relationships, educational system, technology. Andy could never stop listing how many other aspects change. However, there is one thing that is invulnerable to that: essence.

No matter how much time might pass, rocks are still rocks in any corner of the world. Big, small, of any shape or color, in mountains, hills, in the deepness of the ocean or in a desert, they're still rocks.

The same can be applied to trees. They can be tall, short, with or without fruits, with too few or too many leaves, and they would still be trees.

Animals too. The lion is still the king of beasts, a predator whether he lives in a zoo, a circus, a refuge or a cave. The sun and the moon can still shine in their own time even if one eclipses the other. The stars are still in the sky even if there is rain or hail.

Change could come and go whenever it wanted, but the essence was immovable. It was eternal. Sure you could change your way of seeing things, or acting towards others, you could be the bad guy today and become good the next one, or inverted. Still, you were you.

But not everyone feels comfortable by being oneself. Not everyone sees the true worth in their essence, and by that he meant Steven.

To think one moment he was that happy-go-lucky child who wanted everyone to get along no matter if they were gems or humans and now he was gone. Disappearing with his car with an unknown fate ahead of him. It sounded surrealistic.

Surrealistic and absurd. Steven had everything with him and he was so loved by everyone so why leave?

Then he remembered that Greg told him: 'The Gems listened to some things he planned to say just to himself, Andy. Pretty worrying things. Like he needed to be needed, everyone stopped needing him as if he saw himself as a tool and he also thought some ugly things about the Gems and kept them in secret. Now we don't know where the hell he is!'

The explanation was certainly disturbing but confusing at the same time which made Andy wish he had met Steven and watched him grow up to see if what Greg has told him was true.

But after listening to him one more time, more calmed and composed, the gears of his mind started working and the pieces of the puzzle regrouped into a clearer image. A clearer and very concerning image of Steven's future.

The first time he met Steven, he thought he was a naive and sweet kid, too kind for his own good whenever he talked to people, and yeah, that part was true. Years later, he was still being a social butterfly, always willing to help.

Always. Willing. To help.

If there is something he has learned is that it's impossible to live with the term 'always' applied to every aspect of your life. Because you can't always have every answer, you can't always solve every problem, you can't always be there for others, you can't always make people happy.

You can't always be everyone's messiah.

You might explode if you try to, that's why balancing 'always', 'never' and 'sometimes' is the healthier way to live.

Unfortunately, no one taught Steven that motto. Or cared to do it.

He wishes he was there to teach him that, though. Maybe this mess would have never happened if someone had put more effort into telling Steven to take things easy instead of waiting for people to need him or put a lot of pressure on his shoulders.

And now he's gone.

He's gone because he felt useless. Gone because he felt lost.

Steven's gone because he felt like an obsolete thing while the people around him are changing, upgrading and enjoying better things.

He got that sentiment.

'Why'd you leave?'

'I'm the only one who didn't! It was your goofball father who was the first one to hightail it out of here. Then after him, it was Aunt Deb. She and her partner got the RV. No reason to stick around with that thing! Grandpa moved to the keys, too old to make the drive anymore. I was the only one who tried to keep everything how it used to be. I knew what it meant to really be a family. And look what that got me, huh?! Nothin'! It just doesn't feel fair, everything got so different. I wanted everybody to stay the same, but they- they just didn't. Geez. What am I even doing? I got an airplane. I could've been visiting everybody, everywhere they went. I could have known about you. I guess I could have just changed too, you know?

It's not too late. We're here. If you want us to be.'

He wishes he could tell Steven the same things he told him when Andy felt so frustrated and lost with himself.

Back then, it was him and Greg and Grandpa, and the others of the family. But then Greg felt like life had better things for him and wanted that, so he left to pursue his musical career despite his father's protests. After that, the world went downhill for Andy. Moving on and going to other places became the 'new trending', and while the rest of the family was happy with that, he couldn't accept it.

He became old-fashioned and obviously when something gets antiquated, it is forgotten. But the problem didn’t come from him being forgotten because of his traditional ways, it came from the fact that he didn't make space for the new times to accommodate in his life. He was so caught up trying to keep the family together that his old-fashioned ideas blinded him. He could have balanced traditionality and change, but just stayed in the same spot thinking the others went insane when the crazy one was him. Thankfully, Steven encouraged him to reconnect with Greg and be more open-minded with change without losing himself in it.

Maybe that's what the kid needed all this time: someone to help him live through the multiple changes and cheer him up to be himself whether people need him or not.

Besides, why being needed when you are so loved and estimated by everyone?

That's another thing that Steven hasn't figured out or had trouble figuring out: he didn't need to be needed. If he has a family and friends that love him for who he is, it is because they truly feel that way, not because they have some ulterior motive to want Steven around.

If things were like that, then there would be no family and no friends, just people riding on his coattails to get what they want.

That's not the kind of people he has been having around. That's not the kind of change Steven wanted around him.

Or that was what Andy hoped.

No, wait! He was jumping into conclusions, the kid's family wasn't like that, it was just that Steven couldn't handle change in a good way.

And obviously, he was desperate to change alongside the others but it was like he was stuck in quicksand while the rest of the world could get itself out of that bad place and keep moving.

He wondered if Steven was mad at the others because they were leaving him while he tried to keep things static, unchangeable.

Andy shook his head, no no, that was him back then not Steven. Maybe the boy was mad at himself because he couldn't advance like his friends or his family and came to the conclusion that he wasn't necessary anymore.

If he couldn't change and became obsolete then it was better to go to the trunk of memories and stay there.

It was really worrying. Now he got why Greg was so desperate to find him.

But the question was what would they do once they found Steven?

The boy has stopped seeing his self-worth as something beneficial for everyone, he might have believed himself as unfitting for change and therefore unworthy to try, so even if they talked with Steven he would push them away as if that would make everyone a favor.

They needed a wise approach to get through the kid.

Shit, he didn’t have a single idea of what to say when the moment came.

Any word, any good intention could be interpreted in the wrong way.

Steven might think he was being a burden on his family, that everyone was wasting their time on him, that it was better to hide much farther away than before.

No, stop that nonsense! This wasn't the time for worst-case scenarios, this was the time for action!

On the road, he would think what might be the best approach to give Steven some well-deserved encouragement, but now finding him was the priority.

He hoped it didn't take that long, though. Teenagers who ran away from their homes didn't have it as easy as the ones who are kicked out.

Geeez, it was so hard to believe that the roles have changed. Here he was, Andy Demayo, someone who Steven helped with kindness and empathy, looking for the same boy who gave him a bit of hope to embrace change.

Well, it was time for him to return the favor.

And he'd do it like Steven. With his whole heart open to listen and comfort.

The kid deserved it, after all.

He deserved to take a break and not focusing on if he is changing enough for everyone or not, to live life carefree and do stupid things like all teenagers without caring about the consequences, to believe his future is much more than being a self-sacrificing messiah.

He deserved to know that even if millennia passed in front of his eyes, Steven would always be loved for being himself.

Because that's how you let change enter your life without losing yourself.

#Steven Universe #Andy Demayo #Steven Universe Future #Post-Prickly Pair episode #Angst #Family feels #Self-worth issues #Inadequancy

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hillnerd · 6 years ago

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Idea: Hermione has an accident and loses her memory. What would Ron do to make her fall in love again?

My initial reaction to this prompt: OH NO. That is a good way to F^CK me RIGHT UP. Also I would read the hell out of any fic like this. I’m sure there must be a memory loss fic like this out there- so let me know guys! BUT THEN I HAD TO KEEP WRITING...Lots of ways this can go! Here’s my take (2.7k words) :

So in this scenario- it’s about five years after the war. Things are finally a bit more peaceful, but they’re still rounding up the last of the war criminals every once in a while- one such war criminal is brought in to the Ministry and Hermione is helping with the case- somehow they wrestle a wand off of someone and have Hermione at wandpoint. That’s when they decided to do a terrible spell to ‘teach the presumptuous m**blood a lesson.’ They hit her with a spell and she passes out.

She wakes up in a hospital she doesn’t recognize- her head is pounding. She is sitting up on the bed very confused when a tall red headed man walks into the room holding a mug of tea.

“Hermione, you’re awake!” he says, looking relieved and like he really really cares. She has no idea who he is. Perhaps he’s one of the doctors? He’s not wearing a white coat- but some of them are more casual right? Then he’s holding her hand which seems very odd for a doctor. Then he leans in and kisses her. She slaps him.

“Don’t touch me!”

He looks at her stunned. Some doctors(??!!) come in responding to her yell, they are wearing bright green uniforms, and are waving a bunch of sticks at her. She begins to panic. What is going on?! So she’s feeling insane- and like something is deeply wrong with her and is witnessing people staring at her like SHE’S the one who is nuts as they wave sticks at her like a bunch of lunatics. Finally she lets out a yowl of, “What’s going on? Where are my parents! Stop pointing those sticks at me!’

“Hermione?” The redhead asks, looking at her fearfully. He tentatively reaches towards her.

“I said don’t touch me! I don’t know who you are, but if you think you can come in and start kissing a stranger, you are very much mistaken! I’m going to report you!”

One of the strange doctors/kidnappers points a stick at her and she feels a flash move through her body- making her suddenly feel very sleepy. The last thing she sees is the red headed man looking at her in shock.

She wakes up restrained, but calm. She’s on some medication of some sort they say- ‘Potions.’ Whatever… Where are her parents? They ask her questions about things she remembers- She can remember her childhood, then snippets of summer and winter vacations, a few dinners with her parents- some odd memories of Australia… Her memories just seem to get vaguer and vaguer. Those are the last memories she has that are clear. Even through the potion, she feels fear gripping her. She asks how old she is- she’s almost 23. What??? When she looks in a mirror she’s shocked, as on many levels she still feels she’s just a teen.

The ‘healers’ do a lot of tests after giving her some sort of medicine that makes her feel even calmer-

They explain magic. It’s a think apparently. She’s magical. She seems to have lost a great deal of her memory.

They just had a vague notion of what the spell cast on her would do after they translated it (because spells are all in latin and there were multiple witnesses to the spell.) They thought it might be a spell to make her unable to remember spells or inhibit her magic. Instead it is something far far worse.

They figure out all her magical memories have been stripped from her mind. This isn’t just spells and such- this is everything linked to magic at all. Every person, every memory touched by magic. The spell caster basically wanted to make her a ‘muggle’ the only way they could.

The Healers have no idea if they can restore these memories or not, as the spell used is not one they had heard of before.

They bring forth a ton of people to see if she can recognize any of them- she doesn’t know any of them- a black haired man, a ton of red heads, a weird girl with blonde hair- an endless sea of people. The only one she can remember the name of is Ron, and that’s only because apparently he’s her fiance, and it’s hard to forget someone practically molesting you in a hospital.

They give her a stick to see if any route memories of magic come to her. She waves her wand about and says ‘abra kadabra’ which makes them all look very frightened as they take the wand from her saying she could have killed someone! What? With the stick? Sorry- the wand?

She wants to go home!

She wants nothing to do with the wizarding world and all its nonsense- she wants her parents.

Her ‘friends’ she’s introduced to all seem to want to push her to stay, so she can try to prod her memory more and do more of the ‘do you recognize this?’ game, but she doesn’t want to listen to any of them at all. Who even are they? The only one who doesn’t push her is Ron. He hasn’t tried to touch her again since he found out about her memory. He has barely spoken to her, but hasn’t left the hospital, even though she’s been there a week since waking.

She tries to give him the engagement ring on her hand- which he urges her to keep. She thinks it ridiculous to be engaged to a stranger- but he almost brokenly says ‘maybe you won’t be one eventually…’ so she keeps it. She hadn’t thought about how hard this would be for him- the stranger who loved her? She feels a touch cruel now for trying to give the ring back. There is something about this Ron fellow that makes her not completely hate the idea of trying to get to re-know him. Someday. Not now though.

Everyone is pushing her and pushing her (except Ron and the odd blonde girl with protuberant eyes)- but Ron mournfully is like ‘I’ll support you… Just do what you want. Whatever will make you happiest.’ She wants something familiar and calming- which is to be with her parents at home.

They seem pleased to have her, though worried. They’re tiptoeing around her like she’d insane- and maybe she is now? How sane can you be when you are missing half your life and everything that you learned. She thought this would be a way to heal- but honestly she feels on edge and like all the thoughts and learning she’d ever done had been stripped away from her. She feels oddly empty and lonely.

The healers said they’d be doing research on her spell damage- as if they blindly go in with their normal spells they could make it permanent- if it isn’t already. So they say she can leave- she can do magic- perhaps try things to spark her memory. They’ll do weekly tests to make sure of improvements/worsening memory but beyond that she doesn’t have to go to the hospital again.

A trunk of items that might help her with her memories is brought by Ron about a week into her stay. He came all this way and is looking at her with such intensity she decides to invite him in. After all, he’s basically lost his fiance. Maybe it would be interesting to get to know him and wants to see why she had wanted to marry a man who, so far, seemed good looking but beyond that not all that impressive. He is polite, doesn’t push things, as they go through the trunk. There is nothing very personal in there. He decided to start with her old school things- nothing all that personal yet- since that was how she was first introduced to the wizarding world, and she’d always been into academics. That was thoughtful, she decides. She definitely wouldn’t have been comfortable looking at photos and being forced to remember things.

There are tons of books, quills, and she sees her handwriting all over the place- not in spiral notebooks but in long pieces of rolled up parchment like she was writing patents of nobility or something. She laughs at how stupid and inefficient it is to have things on scrolls. Ron quietly watches her as she looks through it all. She begins looking through the books and finds them fascinating.

“I could really do… This is real then? Real magic? That I could do?”

“You are the most brilliant witch I’ve ever met,” he says nodding. Being called witch makes her feel uncomfortable. Sounds more like an insult than a positive identifier.

Ron asks if she’s curious to try a spell.

She decides yes. He conjures up a feather like object- from nowhere! And has her try a spell called ‘Wingardium Leviosa.’ She says it wrong and he coaches her to say it ‘Levi-O-sah, not LevioSAH’- and the little flick at the end. She does it! She made the feather float! They’re grinning at each other, though she sees he looks misty eyed.

He’s being really patient with her as she learns such an easy spell. Apparently from their first year at Hogwarts. There’s something fascinating about him; his lopsided grin, his shockingly red hair, his blue eyes- how tall he is, and how genuine and sweet he seems. He doesn’t treat her like she’s nuts or to be pitied.

She asks him to tell him about himself, as she doesn’t know anything. He does- all about his family (A few stories making her laugh as he describes people and does the voices for them), his job, his favorite things including some sport she’d never heard of, and Chess.

“Oh! Let’s play chess,” Hermione says. Her dad has a board somewhere in his study. They play chess and he beats her very quickly. She tries a few times, but it’s like playing a computer. He’s smart.

She has to admit- her ‘fiance’ is seeming more impressive by the minute. He’s good looking, sweet, thoughtful, funny, smart. It was like going on her very first date, really. A very nice first date. And she already knows he loves her- I mean, they’re affianced!- but even if it weren’t for that, she could tell with how he looks at her. He hasn’t tried once to bring up their own history or force anything.

An alarm goes off from his wand, and he looks at her regretfully. He has to go to work- but maybe he can come by again? Beyond taking her to the hospital, as her parents can’t get into St Mungos.. She says she’d like that.

Each week they go to the hospital together, each week she’s the same. Ron keeps coming to the house though! They try more spells, play more chess, he brings her cat from their place (their place!- what an odd thought!) and the cat is the most perfect things in the world she’s ever seen. He goes with her to St Mungo’s for them to try spells on her after a month- they don’t work. This is just the first round! Don’t lose hope!

His visits get longer each time, and by her asking, not his. She asks Ron for more and more of the stories of their youth- the adventures they went through- the war stuff. She’d been through a war? She’s nearly died? It’s especially hard for him to tell of the people they lost, including his brother dying. She holds his hand hoping he know she cares.

He brings Harry over a few times too, and Ginny- and brings over Luna and Neville. George. Little Teddy and his amazing hair. More and more people visit her. The wizarding world really has some wonderful people in it.

She reads about apparition and flying- and he does apparition with her in her parent’s house (Which gives her a thrill as the two of them are so physically close) and he swears he’ll take her for a fly when he can.

She’s feeling more and more herself (well, she THINKS it’s more herself) and slowly she starts to become more and more comfortable with the wizarding world- getting to visit the Burrow, Harry and Ginny’s place (they’ve just found out they’re pregnant!), Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and Hogsmeade. Ron takes her for a fly at The Burrow. She doesn’t think she’d ever like to do it on her own, but with him it was quite magical, his arms wrapped around her as he guided them around at a steady pace. She gets to watch him and everyone else play quidditch, which is very impressive. He’s so fast- they all are! Especially his little sister! She says she’ll bring Hermione to one of her professional matches soon. Ron shows her his childhood room, which makes her laugh at how adorably shy he is about it- this incredibly tall man, who’s been her guide through everything- being embarrassed to show her his room.

That’s when she realizes- she’s starting to become smitten with Ron Weasley!- he’s a little rough around the edges- he curses a lot, jokes a lot, is informal etc- but he’s been a real gentleman with her, patient, and perfect.

She decides she’d like to see their place- her and Ron’s. He tells her to give him 10 minutes (As he hasn’t been keeping it as nice without her there…) He apparates her there after he’s cleaned, and even though she knows she doesn’t remember the place, it feels familiar. It’s how she would have wanted things to be. He gives her a tour- There are book shelves all over, and it has character- and there are photos of her and Ron kissing and being obviously a happy couple.

He’s keeping his distance from her as she looks at the photos on the mantle. Ron is looking at her with that intense look she’s seen on his face at times- the look of sadness, longing, love? She talks to him about the thoughts going through her head- how it’s odd to think that she’s been kissed. They only had one bed, so most likely she’s done all sorts of intimate things with him she can’t remember. She feels like her body should know it, somehow, but she feels the same. She decides she’d like her first kiss to be with him. He’s uncertain.

‘Are you sure? I mean… I don’t want to push you!’

‘I promise I won’t slap you again,’ Hermione says with a smile.

It’s a very chaste kiss, but it’s wonderful.

She falls for Ron one day at a time. She eventually wants to see where she’s been working- realizing she hasn’t seen it yet- and that’s when it strikes her how broken she feels having all her memories gone. She sees the pitying looks on people’s faces- they seem to think she’s an imbecile now! And she realizes she might just be one now- she doesn’t have an education anymore. What is she fit for? What will her future be!? She’s panicking, but Ron is able to calm her a bit when he says no matter what, she’ll have support for whatever future she chooses- and she can catch up and be amazing at anything.

It’s been several months- they’ve tried cure after cure at St Mungo’s- but no progress is made.

Over the months, she has fallen in love with Ron (again) and is ok with moving back in with him. He’s her fiance, after all- so she doesn’t feel odd for doing this so quickly. They have history she doesn’t remember- but it just feels right.

Things are very chaste for a long time- and they have a good routine where she is trying to catch up on 7 years of Hogwarts education (both on her own and with correspondence with teachers) and magical law.

They get intimate over time and it’s odd how he knows her body better than she does as she’d never done all that much to explore her body’s wants by herself- but he knows all sorts of ways that she likes being touched. She’s happy that some day she will marry him- even if she never remembers their initial timeline again.

One not so special day the healers think they have a solution. They have gathered a tons of memories from Ron and Harry and everyone else they could find- and think they can use this and a lot of other spells to perhaps access the hidden ones in her mind and help ‘unlock’ them if you will- they do the spell. It doesn’t seem to have worked. Hermione didn’t think it would. They go home, feeling a bit deflated but Hermione says: “In the end, it doesn’t matter if I remember all that or not. I’ll always love you.”

She suddenly has a bit of a headache as they go to sleep together, cuddling in a way that makes her feel so protected and calm, despite the disappointing day. She wakes up with her head hurting even worse than the night before- and stumbles into kitchen. Maybe she’s hungry?

“I’d love if you could conjure up some croissants,” she says to Ron who is making some tea.

He recites off Gamp’s Laws of Transfiguration.

“That was impressive!”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron says with a smile.

Then something clicks.

“Wait… Say that again?”

“Gamp’s laws? Merlin, I knew quoting that brainy tosh would turn your head. We’re not using that in the bedroom,” he jokes, but she’s not laughing. He looks at her seriously now. She’s making that face she makes when she’s working out a puzzle.

“You’ve said that before…” she says feeling like she’s reaching for a dream she can barely remember. “The ‘always the tone of surprise.’ You’ve said it… And I’ve said it…”

Ron immediately is helping her sort it out. Telling her where the memories are from- as he says it those specific memories from Bill and Fleur’s Wedding and from after the Battle- the feel of hugging him when he was alright- They’re back- clear as day! She can remember them.

“Quick! Say something else you’ve said!”

They start going through memories and they start clicking into place- she is able to provide more and more of the memories without him prompting things.

It takes weeks- but her memory is finally back. There are times where certain obscure things are a bit vague- but they snap into place as more structural memories are snapped back into place.

In most ways she’s so happy her memories are back- She can remember all the good times, all the spells, all the little moments that made her become the person she is today. Some days when she has to mourn for people or remember something horrible she wishes they weren’t back- but getting to remember all the moments she shared with her friends, and with her Ron- they’re worth the hurt.

Plus, it’s not everyone who gets to have two first kisses with the love of their life.

#romione #memory loss #hermione granger #ron weasley #romance #my writing #head canon #Anonymous

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davidaolson · 5 years ago

Text

The long, leisurely drive from Garden of the Gods to the Comfort Inn in Alamosa where we will hole up during our visit to the Great Sand Dunes National Park takes us by the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. It is happenstance. We had no idea it existed. We see the sign. Have the time. Stop for a visit. As the name suggests, it is famous for fossil beds including massive stumps of petrified redwood trees. After watching the Park Service video, I am most anxious to encounter the petrified beings, to touch the stone rings stretching deep into the seasons before man attempted to harness time, before man created gods in her own image, before woman anointed herself lord of creation.

Outside the main doors, there is a very small loop where the largest of all the unearthed stumps are on display. Though they have completely turned to stone, they look fresh, newly exposed wooden stumps that can easily be chopped into kindling or cut horizontally for spectacular multi-hued, deeply ringed tables. They are held together with 1/2 inch binding metal strapping wrapped around their circumference to help them hold form. Entropy has a way of driving things to crumble and decay. The bands stave off the crumbling. For how long, I can’t say. Still rusts. Entropy is formidable, unrelenting, always the victor.

The downside? We cannot touch the ancient beings. A dry moat and fence separate us. There will be no running my fingers over the rings, no feeling for a petrified pulse, no communion with the venerable trees. I understand why. People can be assholes. They will nibble away at the fragments. Stuff chips into their pockets and scurry off like packrats adding the memorabilia to a collection of forgotten trinkets gathered over the years. A few bastards ruin it for everyone.

We choose as our longish hike, considering there are some time constraints, the mile-long Petrified Forest Loop which winds around a number of the petrified redwood stumps. The loop is almost completely flat with vistas of the mountains in the background of short prairie grasses in the foreground and a smattering of trees. It meanders. We drift soaking up the gorgeous weather, basking in the ambiance, enjoying the stillness, thankful this is a decidedly uncrowded trail and there are no screeching voices raping the silence. We only encounter one other group, a hobbling grandfather with a cane and his two highly energized grandsons, two playful kittens rough house tumbling in their own joyful world.

The second stump we approach is massive but lacking the girth of those at the trail’s start. Its presence should align my senses like metal filings marching to invisible magnetic lines. But it doesn’t. I am more powerfully attracted to the tall, lifeless tree behind the stump up on a small knoll. I say lifeless because I can see no Spring buds like the surrounding copse. The bare branches are gnarled with arthritic joints. I say lifeless knowing looks can be deceiving. I say lifeless yet I feel an energetic connection across the space separating our two living souls. I stand transfixed gazing at its magnificence wishing to comprehend the long life journey from seedling to sapling thru maturity into now.

I need to get closer, need to make physical contact with the tree now knowing that is a deception. However, it is off the official trail behind another damn fence and a petulant sign, a petty bureaucrat happily handcuffed by inane rules demanding obeisance stipulating we stick to the established trail. ‘I’s dotted. ‘T’s crossed. Signed in triplicate. Stamped by the grand poobah. I opt for a few wide-angle and zoomed photographs.

Frustrated, I kick the fence. It cracks. Should I beat the bastard down and score a victory against tyranny? No. Despite my rebellious streak, I do tend to follow rules…sometimes. We turn to leave. One step. Two steps. I sense a strengthened pulse, tease a whisper off the leading edges of the wind that hit me in waves synchronized with the inhalation of my own breathing.

I pivot back, walk around the fence, cross the forbidden zone, halt at the foot of the majestic being. The bark is missing. Flayed by entropy? Age? Elements? Colonies of ants once making the between layer a colony home? Where are the ants now? What happened to their sultry queen?

Bark gone, the heartwood is exposed, raw nerves open to driving wind and cascading rain, searing heat and bitter cold, the chewing mandibles of insects, bird’s pointed beak digging for larvae. Does it feel pain? I imagine the sensitivity of my own flesh with the outer epidermal layer missing and I’m staked to the mast of a sailing ship the salt spray burning holes in my desire to live. Does that approximate the experience of this being?

I reached for the tall trees exposed flesh. Did I say tree? I hesitate calling it Tree even with a capital T. Too much baggage in the four-letter word, too many assumptions contained in the generic label. How should I reference this being many times taller than me? Deity? Demi-God? Do I have the courage to come face to face with a God? In the Bible, seeing the face of God meant death. God declares, “You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.” Which then begs the question, what is a face?

I don’t throw these loaded God words with fanfare or poetic license rather for the transformative effect on my soul, my cluttered, encumbered, burdened soul. But I will use the archaic term for clarity. Anyway, at the instant I finally press flesh to flesh, energy flows into me and my mind calms. The disappointment lingering from the Garden of Gods visit is washed away. Free at last. Free at last.

The trunk is warmer than the surrounding air by at least 10° if not more. I’m not good at estimating temperature. The marked difference is strange. I can see if was basking in the sun but there’s a heavy cloud cover. I’ve never encountered a warm-blooded tree. Err…warm sapped tree?

There’s a definite pulse. A strong pulse…daaaa dummm, daaaa dummm…slower than a human pulse…daaaa dummm, daaaa dummm. There is one tree pulse to every four or five of my own. If I could slow my system to match, would my life span quadruple, quintuple? What would life be like 200 or 300 years into the future? What did this tree see 400 years in the past? Definitely a blooded tree. I press my ear against the body. There’s a heartbeat too. Incredible.

The tree is not significant in diameter. I wrap my arms around it to feel the warmth more deeply. There’s a slight give similar to pressing the surface skin on a very cold batch of chocolate pudding. I squeeze tight, feel my body penetrate the surface then, like a noodle being slurped into a mouth sans the slurping sound, I’m pulled into the tree. Inside the tree? I’m broader than the tree. How can I fit inside?

I look around. The tree is bigger on the inside than the outside? Tardis? Doctor? Doctor, are you here? Romana? K9? Maybe, it’s not that doctor. Clara? River? Amy? Rose? Wishful thinking.

I am able to see in a 360° arch without moving my head. There’s a slight cast like looking through a one-way mirror. There’s my wife. I knock. The knock echoes loudly. She doesn’t move. I slam the wall with my fist. Still, nothing. I’m out there too with my hand still pressed against the barkless flesh.

I have not physically popped inside the tree. My body is still intact on the outside. My mind and soul shed the flesh and wormed their way into Tree. Freaky! How is Irene not able to tell she’s standing next to shell David? Is it because my internal life is so inconsequential there is, in effect, no difference between whole David and shell David? That shines some light on my life.

How do I reconnect with my shell? A problem for later? A problem at all? If she can’t tell the difference why not simply exist in both places? If this tree lived for 100s of years, might my mind and soul also exist inside of Tree for another hundred years? That would give me 100 years of solitude. Ever since living in India, I find my self increasingly craving solitude. But for 100 years? I might go insane. If I’m not already insane? How do trees maintain sanity when living for so long. Hell, Methuselah is almost 5000 years old! If I do get out of here, I must make sure a vacation wraps around meeting Methuselah.

Perhaps, I am already beyond insane and believing I’m inside a tree is another manifestation of my insanity. If I can see myself outside, do I have multiple personalities? I must be cray cray. I know! It’s the CO2! Trees breathe CO2. I’m in the tree, probably inside the lungs and am breathing CO2 into my lungs. It must be fucking with my perceptions of reality. And if I’m breathing in CO2, I must be inside the three which means I’m not crazy. Am I the first being to slip inside a tree?

“No, you are not,” a feminine sounding voice echoed in the cavernous space. “We share our space with more insects by weight than 50 of you. We give them home, they massage us and keep us clean. They raise their families in the crevices of our bark, build nests in the holes vacated by songbirds. We allow songbirds to bore holes in our body and inhabit those holes. For our small sacrifice, we are guaranteed daily songs, nightly prayers, and decaying matter to enrichen soil filtering succulent water to sip in through our roots. And the bird song aids in our meditation.”

“Who…who is we?”

“We are Tree. Tree is We?”

“Tree? Is that your name?”

“We have many names. To some We are Anito. Others call We Kathor or Bo. In parts of China, We are known as Pi-Fang. There are as many names for We as there are peopled tribes.”

“What shall I call you?” Time to get to the essence of the name. If I know what they call themselves, I will have better insight into who they are.

“You may call We…Tree. It is a common term in your lexicon and a communication tool easy for your mind to grasp.”

Shit! Thwarted by a tree. “Nice to meet you, Tree.”

“Likewise, David. It’s obvious you don’t realize this but We have met before, many times before. We have watched you grow your entire life.”

That’s creepy. I feel like I’ve been stalked! Push that ill-feeling away. There is so much to learn. What shall I ask next? Obvious. “Why does We sound like a woman? And why do meditate?”

“You are interpreting to assuage the needs of your psyche. It is likely you view women as nurturers and are more comfortable having this conversation with a feminine persona, a female hero. It can also be because deep down you realize trees are givers of life. Never takers.

Your second question. We have no voice. We meditate because We sustains We. Walking is not possible. Through meditation, We march under and across open land easily creating an above-ground forest with aerial canopies. We as a family invite all to share in this glory. The marching is put into play by our mind while in deep meditation. With each new We, our meditation power amplifies exponentially until an entire forest of We creates a unique ecosystem breathing life into this planet. Without We, you would not be.”

“That’s kinda arrogant!”

“How are facts arrogant? We created the oxygen necessary for your emergence. We create oxygen necessary for your continued existence. Ergo, without We, you would not be. You may even say, We are your creator being.”

“Is that all you do? Create an atmosphere so man can be?”

“Hardly, We create atmospheres that all life may be. Not just humanity. Through our meditation, We make thoughts manifest.”

“What does that mean…to make manifest?”

“Our unified thought is so powerful it cannot be contained in simple synapse connecting electric impulses. The energy builds and Our thoughts explode into physical beings. Hummingbird is the outward manifestation of highly focused, deep thought exploding into Kaleidoscopic light. Hummers collect pollen from flowers instantiating the sex act between plants. It’s rapidly flicking tongue drives both female and male flower parts to long orgasm fruits which you not only enjoy eating but add to your health.”

“Whoa…your thoughts create hummingbirds?”

“Yes, We do. Those ancients lying dormant in the field behind you were much stronger. There were many more We in their day thus the meditative energy was intensified. They created Sparrow, Hawks, Flicker. Our ultimate creation, the one we are most proud of…

“I know.” I blurt out. “You all are most proud of is Golden Eagle.”

“No. Golden Eagle was meditated into existence during a season of tree self-aggrandization. It soared on the wave of inflated tree egos. We have since achieved a deeper, other-centered harmony and no longer create Golden. It’s why their numbers are so low. Their tribe is sustained solely on egg production. We no longer augment that race.”

I sensed a tinge of regret. “Sad?”

“Sad? No. It is merely the normal progression of life. All beings jump to a new body when the old one dies. Life continues just in different forms. As forms change, knowledge of the previous incarnation is carried deep in the brain’s core. It’s how empathy is created between beings vastly different than ourselves. If you love dogs, it means you were likely once a dog.”

“That’s Karma!” I blurted feeling proud of my intimate knowledge of life’s intricacies. And to show tree I was smarter than We.

“Close but no.”

“No? I’ve read about Buddhism. I lived in India. I’m familiar with karma.”

“Karma says the sum of previous existences decides fate in a future incarnation.

“Exactly.”

That Karma is a distortion of reality bent by the scratched prism of human minds because your kind has a need to believe they control their future. It is the same with all your ‘religions’. Truth becomes twisted and mangled until humans are at the center and the reason life exists.”

I find myself intrigued. My views on religion are similar. “Then what do you mean?”

“The next phase is a random act. A body is ready, the being’s soul is ready. And voilà. Existence in a new state.”

“Each person has one and only one soul that is judged by the Good Lord Above upon physical death?” Poised as a question but really a statement.

“Religion misinterpreted to mold reality into man’s narrow ability to grasp the immensity of the pluraverse.”

“Pluraverse? How does that align with our universe?”

“There are multiple universes superimposed upon each other. Thus a pluraverse. There are three here right now.”

I crane my neck trying to get a glimpse of the parallels.

“Don’t bother trying to see them on your own. The human ability to perceive is narrow, myopic, unable to perceive there are many universes right here, right now. Only one exists in color bands your eyes can see. Humans discriminate colors with three cones. Mantis shrimp have 12 and can see more colors than you can imagine including ultraviolet, infrared and x-ray. Trees see with 9.”

“Trees can see?”

“Of course.”

“Where are your eyes?”

“We don’t need eyes as you imagine them to see.”

“What’s in the parallel universes?”

“The petrified being you looked at before coming up here is, to you, a stump, a decayed tree replaced with rock. It is petrified and struggling to fend off entropy.”

“What do you see?”

“In the slowly vibrating, infrared lighted parallel universe, We see a massive redwood still living, growing strong, shouting thought leaves into the sky some morphing into songbirds…”

“Birds again. You seem to have a single-minded focus on birds.”

“We are of a collected mind, never single-minded. Our primary focus is giving life to the world. Life without music lacks purpose. So, We make sure there’s a constant infusion of birds to add their beautiful songs.”

“And why is that? You are not God. What is it your responsibility to create life?”

“Responsibility? It is our joy. We are not God but, then, neither is God a God. The ultimate is an aggregation of the Collective Consciousness extant in all beings. We serve the Collective Consciousness by breathing oxygen into the pluraverses and exercising our unique gifts to infuse birds into the mix.”

“Hold on a second. If God is another name for the Collective Consciousness by extrapolation all contributors to the Collective Consciousness are God.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s so heavy. And it corroborates an essay I wrote in college with the conclusion being that I was God as was everything else. I guess I’m a man ahead of his time.”

“Yes, I can see it being heavy for one who has not existed for more than a century in continuous meditation. We Tree are sanyasi, truth seekers. We abandoned the folly of disconnected individualism eons ago instead unifying under a single meditative hum. Our unified meditation has given us understanding well beyond the imaginable approaching the ultimate infinite.”

“I need to understand ultimate truth. Please tell me.” Hoping I don’t sound too needy.

“Humanity is the only beings not ready to accept ultimate truth. Birds do especially Lord Raven who’s mind thinks in poetry born of supreme meditation. All the animals and plants do. Human minds have not developed the capacity to simultaneously hold two opposite ideas believing them to be opposing truths.”

“What?”

“I will provide you with a simple example. To you, black and white are opposites. Black can’t be white. White can’t be black. Light and dark are mutually exclusive and can’t coexist.”

“Obviously!”

“We know black defines white. Light dances with dark. There is no difference between white and black.”

“That make’s absolutely no sense!”

“As We said, your kind are not ready. Evolution is slower in some than others.”

I needed to take back control of this screwy train of thought. There is knowledge here to be gained. How do I manipulate a tree? “Ok. Ok. I will accept what you said at face value. What can I grasp at this stage in my cognitive development?”

“That depends…”

Silence. Tree stopped talking. Seconds tick off into minutes that roll into hours. I wait until the silence gnaws through the ropes binding my patience and I am compelled to fill the void. “Depends on what???”

“I see you have very little patience so I doubt you have what it takes to absorb Our knowledge.”

“I’m patient. I waited minutes before jumping in with my question.”

“You were silent less than 10 seconds even then your mind was churning.”

“Well. I’m better than I used to be. With your help, I know I can grow the patience and learn from you.”

“Are you ready to spend eternity with me? Give up life as you know it and merge into the We? Because that is what it will take for you to begin grasping our knowledge.”

“Oh Shit. Uh. There is so much to see in this world. I’m not ready to set roots down in this isolated place for the next 100 years. So, no. I don’t wish to merge with We…at least…not yet. Perhaps when I’m old and sitting on the border between now and next.”

“Wise choice, human.”

I can’t leave empty-handed. It would be an extreme waste of a learning opportunity. “Can you show me something? A glimpse of all you have learned? Something my mind can grasp with a little stretching? Maybe a tidbit that will make sense down the line?”

“What you request means pecking a hole in this reality and allowing you to enter our dreamvision.”

“Fantastic! Let’s dream away.” I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take over. “I guess I’m too eager here. How can I dream wide awake?”

There are dreams, visions, and dreamvisions. I can dreamvision all of what came before me and some of what is yet to be. Entering our dreamvision is quite easy. Just follow my instructions. Breathe in for a 7 count. Hold for 4 counts. Exhale for 8 counts.”

“How long is a count?”

“Synchronize your counting to the beating of your heart. The inhalations will fill your lungs with CO2 and help you on the journey.”

“Whoa. CO2 is deadly to humans. Doh. My body is out there. It’s my soul in here. My soul has no lungs.”

“It is a mindset. You are correct and the CO2 cannot hurt your spirit.”

“How can my spirit breathe? It’s bodies that breathe.”

“You need to trust We on this. Repeat the breathing sequence a few more times making sure it is perfectly aligned with your heartbeat.”

I cannot sense my heartbeat. I put my hand on my imaginary chest. There it is. Da-dum. Da-dum. Breathe in 7 counts. Hold 4 counts. Exhale 8 counts. Repeat. Repeat. I’m feeling light-headed.

“You should be feeling lightheaded. The Carbon Dioxide is infusing your system soon you will pass out.”

“Pass Out?” I pull out of the breathing sequence. My vision is reduced to a tunnel which, in time, returns to normal.

“Yes. Pass out. The CO2 is a shock to an oxygen-breathing being. Don’t worry though you will awake almost instantaneously and experience the dreamvision of We. Just let yourself go.”

“But… but…but…I don’t want toooo….I’m afrai…”

A raven croaks. A long, drawn-out croak. A soulful croak. It’s long, held in perfect pitch, a vocalist singing and extended until the breath is exhausted then persisting a few heartbeats longer.

“What’s up with the Raven?”

“Raven unties memory knots helping us to recollect past and future memories.”

I open my eyes. Two moons hang in the sky, waning crescent moons half as bright as the sun piercing the clouds on a foggy day. “How can there be two moons? Why are they flickering between black and white?”

“There are always two moons. You are seeing through the eyes of We, seeing what We see. As I told you, the parallel universes are always present, superimposed in the now. The flickering you see is your mind approaching the ability to comprehend that black and white, dark and light are identical.”

“The moon was full yesterday. How can they be identical crescents today?”

“The moons are not identical. One is waning, the other is waxing. And what makes you believe today is today?”

“Isn’t today always today?”

“You have entered the meditative dream of We. Today, yesterday, even tomorrow have no meaning. We can experience any point on the time continuum beginning with the emerge of First Tree. Think of it as being fully present in the now and now can be any now, any time, the particular now necessary for enlightening. Trees are all bodhisattvas and we are sharing bodhisattva experience with you.”

“Bodhisattvas? Like the Buddha?”

“Of course. Do you recall where Siddhartha Gautama achieved enlightenment to become Buddha?”

“Beneath the Bodhi tree in what is now Bodh Gaya, India. I’ve been there a couple of times. I collected some leaves fallen from the tree. My wife framed them. They sit on our bookshelf.”

“You don’t think it was an accident that Siddhartha became Buddha beneath a tree, do you?”

I could be a smartass and say coincidence but this seems like the wrong time. I wanted to see where Tree teaching took me. “I guess not.”

“It was We who shared the knowledge opening Siddhartha’s eyes. Over the days he meditated at Our feet, we dropped leaves around and on him. Some became birds before touching Earth. Others were perfumed with understandings of the Universal Consciousness puzzle. It took a while until Siddhartha was able to connect the pieces into partial understanding, enough for a slice of enlightened knowledge. That is the origins of Buddhism.”

“Partial understanding?”

“Yes. As I said, the human mind, in its present evolution, cannot grasp full knowledge. So, we dispense what is needed when it is needed. As has been our practice throughout your history.”

“There are others?”

“Yes. Siddharta was one of the few with a spirit evolved sufficiently to grasp a fragment of true knowledge. He achieved the fourth phase in one lifetime.”

“Fourth phase? Grandfather taught me about the four phases. Do you know grandfather?” It was a question to which I immediately knew the answer.

“Of course. Grandfather is also We.”

“Were there others you gifted special knowledge? Of course, you just said were there were others. Who else have you gifted this enlightening knowledge to?”

“There have been many others.”

“Like who?”

“Moses at the burning bush. It was we who simulated burning in his mind and dispensed the knowledge needed at that a point in history to help humanity on their journey. There was Jesus at the fig tree. We scared him so he made We whither then avoided We for a long time. He learned enough to understand the necessity of loving one’s neighbor. We needed to engage with him again to complete his teaching but didn’t have the opportunity until he was hammered into the cross. The cross was We and We completed his education. When he moaned, “It is finished.” it was because he finally understood and was ready to leave the fourth phase into Spirit existence.”

“Are you telling me you instigated the great religious revivals?”

“Yes. It was communion with We that inspired Mohammad’s recitation of the Islamic Holy Book. We have gifted a litany of shaman’s and holy people throughout history reaching way back to the cave paintings in El Castillo, Spain and Sulawesi, Indonesia. There are older ones from the Neanderthals that have yet to be discovered. Few remain because CroMagon man destroyed them believing they were against their view of God. Your kind seems to never learn.

We point you forward yet you choose to close your eyes. We always chose a messenger from a person in their fourth phase because they have proven themselves capable of spiritual evolution. The problem is the many in the early phases with marginal abilities to comprehend the ultimate, grasp onto the lowest limbs and force them down the throats of others as gospel. And thus you have your unholy wars, your dogmatic religious practices, the hate across belief systems.”

“Why are humans always the recipients of your knowledge. Why not animals?”

“Animals, plants, rocks, all beings other than man are many lifetimes into the spiritual phase and coexist in the Collective Consciousness. They are also We.”

“This is absolutely fascinating. I must share this with the world. Too bad my blog has so few followers. Our world is pretty fucked up now. Hopefully, you’ve picked out the next great teacher to help guide us. The US has an orange baboon in highest office fighting with cockroaches on both sides of congress. Evil is gaining strongholds the world over with a stranglehold on political power. An enlightened teacher is needed now, was needed yesterday.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Have you found one yet?”

“We have. In the past, We chose messengers who achieved the fourth phase in one life cycle believing their intelligence was the key success. This time We have decided on an individual that has struggled through many life cycles to reach the fourth phase. The thinking is that resilience is key and their experiences will help cement the message in souls also struggling to progress.”

“Who is it? Can you tell me? Would I know her, him, they?”

“Grandfather tells We, you are ready.”

“Me?”

“You have been chosen.”

“But, I’m a nobody. What can I possibly do? Nope. Not me. Pick another…someone with…with…I don’t know. Someone who is not me. I am getting old. Retirement is a few years away. I want to spend my time traveling. No one will listen to me. I have proof. My blogs have been out for a good 7 years and they have few followers.”

I pause, breathe. Wait for a response. Nothing.

“How can Tree expect me to nudge the course of human history when I can get barely any blog followers? You know, I’m a loner. No one will listen to a loner. I can’t even maintain friendships. Who would take a loner seriously? A half baked, half-assed loner like me?”

“As were they all…”

“What? You are equating me with the prophets? With the Son of Man?”

“Of course not…not yet. They were all similar to you before their anointing. They did not believe in themselves. But they all made the leap.”

“Hmmm…let’s say I acquiesce with your ask. Will I be well known? Will my blogs increase in followers making me an influencer?”

“That is hardly the point but yes. You will be well known, near-universally known. As such, near-universally loved and near-universally hated. Your penchant for solitude will be critical for you to rejuvenate. We foresee long periods of alone time in the desert.”

“That I like. I love the desert…especially red deserts with twisted canyons…but you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Of course. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Ok…let’s say, for the sake of argument, I play along. And I’m assuming I have a choice?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Why me? Why now?”

“We could go into extensive detail about why you but you would throw up objection after objection to any and all logical or illogical, spiritual or corporeal arguments. To avoid the fruitless, a bit of Tree humor there, debate, We will just say, ‘Why not you?’”

“I get that. Then my 2nd question, why now?”

“History has cycles, ebbs and flows. There are buds in spring, fruit in summer, color in the fall, and barren winter days when We withdraw into our subterranean root system. Humanity, mentally, is in a trough…worse than being barren. When barren, fruit is not created. When in a trough, the fruit is actively destroyed.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Do you not read your own blog? Despite the metrics pointing to this being one of the safest points in history, The powerful would have everyone believe we are in crisis and must resort to isolationism and hoarding. It is they who are forcing the crisis mentality. History is struggling because of a small but influential swath of humanity. We are in a point where the numbers show flowing yet the voices of the elect claim we are ebbing, stuck in a trough and fighting a squall. In the current human trough, the fruit is being poisoned. Humanity is the poison fruit destroying all life including your own.”

“Is it global or only America?”

“Narrow thinking. It is impossible to be healthy in isolation. We is connected globally through an extensive root system. We are aware of everything happening everywhere simultaneously. We are acutely aware of the complete and total interconnectedness of all beings.”

“Humans are deluded by the egregious belief that one arbitrary enclosed space can exist isolated from all others and be healthy. It is a dangerous delusion that will destroy the planet including your America.”

“No surprise there.”

“It is your destiny to awaken humanity before the tipping point and the impossibility of return.”

“Destiny. I am beginning to hate that word. I gather this won’t be easy?” A half question at best. A question to which I already knew the answer. Why ask it? I don’t know. Sometimes, I need to hear the obvious.

“No. Change never is. Think to your corporate life?”

“You are aware of my corporate life?”

“Yes. Are We not on the patio of your office?”

“Yup.”

“As We said, all are interconnected including the We planted on your 7th-floor office patio. Change is difficult in a corporation with a clearly defined mission. The difficulty of course-correcting humanity will be like escaping from inside a black hole. You will be adored, reviled, ignored all at the same time, by the same individuals. You will have all beings, with the possible exception of roaches who expect to inherit Earth once your kind destroys it, helping you in this quest to save the world.”

“I enjoy a challenge but, I’ve got to say, none of this ‘reality’ endears me to the cause.”

“Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion.”

“I love that quote. Did Ed Abbey get that from you?”

“No. Enlightenment is multidirectional. We learned quite a lot from Abbey. He wrote with such wisdom, opened up new worlds for We to see.”

“As did I.” Emotion roiled in my soul for the author I appreciated more than all others. I still feel anguish at his passing.

“Ok. I’m reluctant but if it’s written in the stars I guess…well…destinies are as destinies will be.”

“Destinies are destinies and one of yours will influence all of ours.”

“So much pressure. What’s next?”

“We teach you to connect with the universal harmonic. It helps you to tune in the Universal Consciousness, turn on to the connectedness, and drop out from the mental clutter wall separating you from Everything.”

“You must be referencing the Aum.”

“Each being connects in their own way. To humans, the way is through repetition of the Aum.”

“Aum in 108 repetitions.”

“No. Again a human distortion of knowledge shared ages ago. The 108 is manmade not universe ordained. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I think I am.”

“I will lead you. All you need do is repeat after me until you are tuned in. After that, it’s in your hands. Until then, follow me closely. So I can steer you clear of the broken worlds laying shattered inside. You’re not strong enough for those yet. Visiting one could give you a Psychic wound. They are difficult, almost impossible to recover from.”

“I’ve heard enough. Let’s kick this off. Hit it, Tree.”

“Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Auumm.”

“Longer. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Aaauuummm”

“Listen closely. It is much longer. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Keep repeating. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.” Raven croaks, almost as if it is laughing. “Hey, I’m feeling an internal vibration. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“You’re getting it. Keep going. Hold the Aum longer.”

“Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm. Aaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuummmmmm. I’m getting a vision. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“David.”

“Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“Ccooommmme ooonnnn.”

“Come on? Tree what’s that supposed to mean. Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.”

“David, Comme ooonnnn. I want to get to the dunes today before it’s dark. Let’s finish up this hike so we can get to the dunes.”

“Dunes?” How confusing. “Aaaaaauuuuuuummmmmm.” I feel a strong tug on my arm and open my eyes. It’s my wife.

“You’ve had enough time to photograph this dead tree. We need to get going if we’re going to make Great Sand Dunes before sunset.”

“What?” My hand is still pressed against the tree. The bark is cold. There’s no heartbeat. “What the hell? Have you been here the entire time?”

“What do you mean the entire time. It’s only been a few minutes. There’s some bright orange lichen on this petrified stump. I think they would make a great picture.”

“I can’t be worrying about pictures now. There’s so much to do if I’m going to save the world.”

“Save the world?”

“Tree said it was my destiny…” I stopped. A red mist descended over her face quickly replaced by concern.

“Don’t tell me you had another hallucination. David, this is bad…really bad.”

“They are NOT hallucinations. It was real. They were all real. I experience other dimension interconnectedness. I’m chosen. And all my experiences you call hallucinations are connected. Common elements are woven between all of them. Grandfather is the unifying thread. He either shows up or is referenced in the experience.”

“In my professional opinion, one of two things are going on. Either you have cancer and your brain is feeding upon itself or you have dementia, maybe even schizophrenia.”

“Schizophrenia?”

“Yes. There’s no mental illness in your family history so it is more likely early-stage cancer. Hopefully, early enough to be caught and eradicated. When we get back I am going to make the Doctor’s appointment.”

“A shrink or a cancer doctor?”

“Both! We are going to get to the bottom of this insanity.”

“Insanity? Nice joke.”

“I’m not being funny. I am worried.”

“Ok. Ok. We will set up appointments. Shrink first so I can prove to you I’m not crazy.”

“Thank you. Now, let’s walk over to that outcropping. It is picturesque. Then we can drive to the dunes. I can’t wait to climb the great sand dunes. You know how much I love sand dunes.”

Tree is We But We are Not Tree The long, leisurely drive from Garden of the Gods to the Comfort Inn in Alamosa where we will hole up during our visit to the Great Sand Dunes National Park takes us by the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument.

#Destiny #Grandfather

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