08-11-2015, 11:16 AM
Trees surround me; I feel as if the Dale has swallowed me whole. My body is enwrapped in her center—I have certainly made it far without discovery. Of course, I could have border patrol on me now, following me but hesitant due to my familiar scent that lingers every so often with a light breeze. I smell, for the most part, like a mixture of my parents. Which, of course, I am.
I don’t know why I come now, of all times. Maybe it is to see how he, my father, is doing. Or maybe it is to see how the kingdom itself has done (without me). An unloyal child I am, a boy who would have rather played with the pretty fillies in the Jungle than dedicated himself fully to a kingdom. Foolish child I was.
Foolish man I am now.
The sky is a hazy shade of grey’s and blues, and an uneasy draft tickles the tips of my skin. My stomach is twisting in knots of anticipation and yet fear all at the same time. What am I to expect? Who will I see?
Will I retreat back into hiding, or stay for once, in front of the blackness, and be what I was born to be?
It takes me too long to reach her heart and soul, and when I finally due I come to realize the scent of my father no longer lingers in the thin needles of her bitter pines. He has gone, and I have failed. I didn’t assist him down from the throne, offer my support in his absence, or step up to the plate.
Mother is disappointed, I can feel that already.
So now all I can do is wait. Wait for someone to come to my presence—who will most likely, by the way, be infuriated with my prude intrusion. They will accuse me of poor manners, become defensive of their kingdom, and who am I to argue? I did this. I expected things to never change while I did nothing in the back drop.
Now, finally ready to do something and everything has slipped from my grasp.
Lighting crinkles at my toes in frustration.
I don’t know why I come now, of all times. Maybe it is to see how he, my father, is doing. Or maybe it is to see how the kingdom itself has done (without me). An unloyal child I am, a boy who would have rather played with the pretty fillies in the Jungle than dedicated himself fully to a kingdom. Foolish child I was.
Foolish man I am now.
The sky is a hazy shade of grey’s and blues, and an uneasy draft tickles the tips of my skin. My stomach is twisting in knots of anticipation and yet fear all at the same time. What am I to expect? Who will I see?
Will I retreat back into hiding, or stay for once, in front of the blackness, and be what I was born to be?
It takes me too long to reach her heart and soul, and when I finally due I come to realize the scent of my father no longer lingers in the thin needles of her bitter pines. He has gone, and I have failed. I didn’t assist him down from the throne, offer my support in his absence, or step up to the plate.
Mother is disappointed, I can feel that already.
So now all I can do is wait. Wait for someone to come to my presence—who will most likely, by the way, be infuriated with my prude intrusion. They will accuse me of poor manners, become defensive of their kingdom, and who am I to argue? I did this. I expected things to never change while I did nothing in the back drop.
Now, finally ready to do something and everything has slipped from my grasp.
Lighting crinkles at my toes in frustration.