I’ve sat here, on this empty piece of floating scenery for the all of my existence. I am not aware of why i am, or the reason this place decided to trap me on itself. Most might assume the loneliness is unbearable, though i should disagree, the place keeps me company in most days.
This place, this endlessly quiet land, It thinks and, in Its special ways, speaks to me. I dont say this as in one of your metaphors, as It does, quite literally, speak to me. It says things to my soul, my head. I can feel the life blooming in Its air.
Countless times i’ve seen travellers passing through to rest, when i was young, id hide from them, i was scared they would take me away. Nowadays, however, i enjoy seeing It transform to the humans in question. It speaks to their mind, too, It changes according to their memories, It makes them comfortable. I never knew why It loved them so much, if I think about it, I dont know much about anything.
The passing of ages led me to meet humans of all types, I even served some of them, when It asked me to. I have meet said kings and queens and cared for runaway slaves. Though I never learned their names, I deeply cared about each one. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know every little detail. I learnt how to read and write, and to speak properly, even learnt etiquette to some extent. I have learnt about people’s stories from all over the world.
One person, in particular, stays in my mind quite often. Her name was Grace.
She was loud, so impossibly loud. Never had i heard that kind of noise, it scared me at first. She also loved gardens, It changed into one for her, it was very beautiful, in her short stay, she cared about it quite a lot.
She stayed what i would estimate to be three nights, and Grace told me stories about her family and friends, her adventures and her old passions. She was unaturally pale and young, fragile, even. I cared for her much more than all the others, she would tell me beautiful things about her life and she would make me want to live it with her. No one ever made me want to leave this place before, it sounded too stressful. But with her, it seemed peaceful and full of life.
She then, slept another night, her final night. And when i say final, I mean it. She never woke up again after that night. I never knew how that could happen and I did not know what to do with her formerly joyous self. It told me she was ill and didnt want to keep spending her family funds on herself, as she knew she could never recover. I wont ever believe It this time. I cant accept that she killed herself, I cant possibly believe she gave up her own life.
I dont think im ever going to die, so I’m left to my own imagionation for all times, together with It.
M1tchie_S2 t1_ixeeple wrote
Reply to [WP] There is a place. A place between places. It's an actual place but it isn't here nor there. Lost travelers are the only ones who can find the place. Staying for a night, safe from other places and other things, and nothing more. Except you. You were born in the place. by Horror_Librarian_133
I’ve sat here, on this empty piece of floating scenery for the all of my existence. I am not aware of why i am, or the reason this place decided to trap me on itself. Most might assume the loneliness is unbearable, though i should disagree, the place keeps me company in most days.
This place, this endlessly quiet land, It thinks and, in Its special ways, speaks to me. I dont say this as in one of your metaphors, as It does, quite literally, speak to me. It says things to my soul, my head. I can feel the life blooming in Its air.
Countless times i’ve seen travellers passing through to rest, when i was young, id hide from them, i was scared they would take me away. Nowadays, however, i enjoy seeing It transform to the humans in question. It speaks to their mind, too, It changes according to their memories, It makes them comfortable. I never knew why It loved them so much, if I think about it, I dont know much about anything.
The passing of ages led me to meet humans of all types, I even served some of them, when It asked me to. I have meet said kings and queens and cared for runaway slaves. Though I never learned their names, I deeply cared about each one. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know every little detail. I learnt how to read and write, and to speak properly, even learnt etiquette to some extent. I have learnt about people’s stories from all over the world.
One person, in particular, stays in my mind quite often. Her name was Grace.
She was loud, so impossibly loud. Never had i heard that kind of noise, it scared me at first. She also loved gardens, It changed into one for her, it was very beautiful, in her short stay, she cared about it quite a lot.
She stayed what i would estimate to be three nights, and Grace told me stories about her family and friends, her adventures and her old passions. She was unaturally pale and young, fragile, even. I cared for her much more than all the others, she would tell me beautiful things about her life and she would make me want to live it with her. No one ever made me want to leave this place before, it sounded too stressful. But with her, it seemed peaceful and full of life.
She then, slept another night, her final night. And when i say final, I mean it. She never woke up again after that night. I never knew how that could happen and I did not know what to do with her formerly joyous self. It told me she was ill and didnt want to keep spending her family funds on herself, as she knew she could never recover. I wont ever believe It this time. I cant accept that she killed herself, I cant possibly believe she gave up her own life.
I dont think im ever going to die, so I’m left to my own imagionation for all times, together with It.