She had always been captivated by the forest and all of its leaves. The towering and wise trees were mesmerizing, enchanting, bewitching. The air was sweet and rich. Once the trees encircled you, a sudden peacefulness overcomes you. Everything becomes ethereal and it was infatuating. All she wanted was to be in the forest, to breathe the intoxicating air and sit amongst the friendly and inviting trees. She longed to sit upon a fallen tree that overlooked a small brook. The brook flowed over mossy stones and pebbles, and it was covered in fallen leaves and branches that had gone astray. The brook babbled and gurgled as it twisted through the woods. Sitting on a log, she pulled out a book and began to read. Tranquil noises surrounded her and the sun overhead had disappeared behind the passing clouds. The leaves around her were all different shades of green. The color of the rough bark was a deep, earthy brown and was mossy and soft in places because of moisture. Birds would intermittently chirp and converse with each other, and every so often an insect would crawl or fly past her. All sorts of brush and growth flourished in this wood. The hazy blue sky peeked through the many branches above, and the stars at nightfall blinked faintly through the trees. If rain ever fell, the trees sheltered her. When it was hot, the trees provided shade. When it was cold, being around them warmed her up. The forest and all of its green made her feel safe. The trees were her friends, her guardians, and her love. Green felt like home to her. Green felt like peace. She was smitten and overly attached with it. The color of the forest was like a melody in her heart and it flushed through her body. It was forest green.
I’m alright.
How mant times must I lie?
Heartbroken and full of regret
How many times will I forget?
Every rose comes with a thorn.
My rose, my perfect rose came with many
But now my rose had wilted,
It was plucked from my hand.
Romeo to my Juliet no more.
How many times will I forget?
“Falling feels like flying until the moment you land.”
~Her pov~ Negative thoughts rang out in my head. I couldn’t stop them. How many mental breakdowns would I go through alone? Maybe I prefer to go through this alone. Nobody cares to ask how I really am anyways. This hurt more than anything I have felt before, and this wasn’t even a physical hurt. Well, I can’t say there is no physical pain in this. My heart felt heavy, as if it was sinking to the floor. My hands were shaky and my breathing turned to hyperventilation. I grew nauseous and felt dizzy. I let out an anguished cry and sank to the floor. I wrapped my arms around myself and hot, salty tears raced down my cheeks and ran off my chin. Why does it hurt so much? ~Her mind’s pov~ Anxious, depressed, lonely, and lazy. That’s the truth. No matter what we do there is always something wrong with us, there is always a possible insult. She can’t do anything right. Everything was falling apart. Every relationship, everything at school, and even our appearance seemed to be against us. This was one of the many breakdowns I had caused this week. I don’t know why I say these things to her, I simply say the truth. “What if it’s not the truth?” a small voice tells me. “What do you mean? Of course it’s the truth?” I retort. “So what if she has some flaws? You are making her feel as if she is worthless when you know she isn’t! She is smart, beautiful, kind, and has an amazing personality. Quit making her feel like this, quit making her feel like she can’t talk to someone about these feelings! She shouldn’t have to go through this alone, no one should. Apologize to her. Tell her something good about herself for once,” the voice sternly spoke. Why should I apologize? That voice can’t be right? Can they? I decide that I do owe her an apology. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel this way. I’m supposed to help you through things, not be against you. I’m sorry that I, your mind, can be your worst enemy. You are absolutely gorgeous, you are compassionate, you are intelligent, and our sense of humor is on point. You don’t deserve these mental breakdowns and I’m so sorry for causing them. I’ll try my hardest not to let you think bad about yourself. We got this.”
~Her pov~
I looked up and wiped my face. Black smudges were on my fingers. I thought this mascara was supposed to be waterproof. I sniffed and finished up wiping the last of the tears. My eyes are surely red and puffy, and I most likely looked an unruly mess. I sighed. I would recover soon enough. One thing was for sure,
“I’ll get past this.”
Alora’s aqua eyes grew round with amazement. She examined each thing in the aquarium with equal wonder. Every grey pebble and each individual scaley fish did not slip through her gaze. What she saw next was magical. She had been to this aquarium millions of times in her five years, and she had never seen anything like it. It was a giant fish that had a glowing orange color and large, friendly indigo eyes. It swam along with an elegance that could only be achieved by something of its kind. It stopped in front of little Alora and waved its magnificent fin as if beckoning her to come. Alora pressed her hands on the thick glass, wishing there was a way into its world. She wanted a way in, a way to swim carelessly throughout the water with her new friend. She wanted to learn its name and become friends with each individual fish. All of a sudden, Alora vanished. The sweet, redhead was nowhere to be found, or so everyone thought. The magnificent goldfish had known her thoughts and wishes. It granted her one day to see the world as a fish does. Alora turned into a fish slightly smaller than the goldfish. She turned the color of her eyes, a dazzling aquamarine. Now, Alora spoke freely among the fish, becoming immediate friends with them. Hours later, Alora was returned to her place on the other side of the glass. A bittersweet feeling rushed through her. She had enjoyed the experience most thoroughly. Alora missed the fish. She missed swimming along with grace and a carefree heart. Alora wanted to return to her friends on the other side of the glass.
He strolled along through the downpour. His dark, coffee colored hair became dreched and water rolled down his face moistening his eyelashes that surrounded his misty grey eyes. Droplets rolled off his nose and chin. At this point, his forest green sweater and his tan trousers were drenched. He didn’t care. He watched as people ran to escape the rain. He did not want to escape it, he walked further into it. He loved the rain. It gave him a feeling of peace and serenity. He stepped onto a sidewalk that would lead him away from his bustling town and into a wooded area. The woods had become his favorite place. He went there in the morning when fog and mist encircled the meadow beside the woodland area. He would go after work to enjoy the quiet that nature had to offer. Sometimes, he would visit it at night to gaze at the stars. Drawing him out of his thoughts, was an innocent and soaking wet kitten. He bent down to examine it. It had slate grey fur and deep, fearful, emerald eyes. He decided to help the kitten and take it home to ensure that it would be warm, safe, and dry. Scooping the kitten up, he drew it close to his broad, toned chest and turned around. He began the hike home to his small, but homey apartment. A hansome grin overtook his face as he looked at his new found friend.
They had come in vast numbers. Upon their appearance, a heaviness had fallen on our people. My people. My army. A great silence filled with fear and waiting had covered my ranks. I wanted with everything inside me to comfort them. I wanted to tell them that all was not lost. My people needed a hope, they needed to see that we would overcome, but here I stood on the fronts of battle, my face filled with indifference. My face stayed expressionless and my eyes gave an icy glare while their eyes filled with fear. I knew my people thought I was a cold hearted king. They did not see through my facade, but they most assuredly knew the reason for my coldness. My ever present glare and my unforgiving icy eyes was a cover. I had lost my dearest friend many years ago. He was a trusted advisor and a great warrior. I loved him, for he was my son. After his death, I shoved away all feelings and built a wall to keep them from showing. Today was the day the wall would crumble. Starting with little cracks and turning into dust. My people needed me. “My people! My friends!” I shouted so that all would hear, “today calls for bravery, courage, and hope. Today, push aside all fear, for hope remains! Let us fight for our homes, fight for our land, and fight for each other! Have you forgotten that our allies are coming? Muster all your strength and all your heart! Let us fight!” Just like that, my army let out a deafening yell, a battle cry, and raised their swords and readied their bows. I gave the signal and we rushed forward into battle with a newfound hope. My sword encountered another’s and it began. The traumatizing sounds of battle erupted. There was no turning back.The next few days would be filled with chaos, trauma, and pain, but most importantly, hope.
Taurion, nephew of the elvenking, rushed through the many corridors of the palace. His destination was the garden. It wasn’t an ordinary garden. It was magical and hidden from the rest of the elves. No one in all of Erynarda, except for Taurion and the king, had been inside of it. Well, no one except for her. The one whom he loved, but officially would never have. She had been given two names. One was the name given to her by her parents. This was a name from the world which she had come from. The other name she was given by the elves. Taurion had found Fleur wandering through the forest that surrounded the palace for miles. She had been admiring every intricate detail of the wood. He remembered how her eyes shone with delight and awe as she took in the majestic, towering trees. He remembered her face as a seemingly harmless creature changed form and held a sword to her throat. Taurion had saved her from an Ancalagon. The Ancalagon were the only group of elves in all of Erynarda that were evil. That day was Fleur’s first day seeing an elf, and it was an elf’s first day ever hearing the word “human.” He had led her to the elvenking, where she learned her fate. She was to help wipe all Ancalagon from the face of Erynarda. Taurion had trained her. She had become very skilled in using all kinds of weapons. Word of Fleur had spread to the evil elves, and they had gathered all their numbers and declared war. Fleur and all of the elven allies throughout Erynarda faught against the evil forces. Before they knew it, they had won the war. Relief spread throughout the elven realm. Fleur lived in peace with the elves. She was accepted, despite being mortal. Taurion and Fleur had become loyal, devoted friends. One day, Taurion decided to take Fleur to the hidden garden. This was against the king’s wishes. When they stepped into the garden, a plant, or rather flower, had sprouted and bloomed. This flower was unknown to any elf, but Fleur knew all about it. It was from her world. It was a rose, an elegant, romantic, red rose. She didn’t hesitate to tell Taurion about the romance and delicacy of the rose. The rose spread througout Erynarda. All the elves soon gave Fleur the name “Lothiriel.” It meant flower-garlanded maiden. It was very fitting, for she had adopted the way of the she-elves and wore flowers in her hair. She didnt wear daisies or other delicate flowers that the other elves wore, she wore roses. It wasn’t long after the war that Taurion felt more for the human girl. He wished these feelings for the amiable and graceful Lothiriel had never come upon him. She was, after all, a mortal. Nothing would ever be able to blossom from their friendship. Nevertheless, he had fallen. Taurion remembered the night that he reluctantly told his feelings to her. She had cried in sadness, for she too realized that they couldn’t become more. Many years passed and Lothiriel grew old, very old. She had ashy hair and a frail, fragile body. She was now unable to accompany her ageless friend to the hidden garden to see her beloved roses. Taurion had become full of bitter, melancholy feeling. The inevitable day had come. She had passed. His best friend was gone, and with her, the roses. All over Erynarda, roses were vanishing. Taurion ran to the hidden garden and let out an anguished cry. He watched as the beautiful roses that had been kept alive by her spirit, withered, died, and turned to dust.