**Journal I**

Mortals, with such grace and powers which approves them, have lasted in this world for a rather long time. I, a man in my late twenties, have seen enough of them to know a few main things:

1–Humans should not be trusted, for even the most trust-worthy of them can slip their hold on you and break you like a shatter vase.

2–They like to be fawned over, especially some of the magickers that make their way into my shop now and then. Their carved wands are present on their hips for all to see. Is it a display of power? Do they want us to admire the fantasic craftmenship of the Carvers? I do not know, and the lack of knowledge does not pain me in any way.

And 3—Their eyes are the entryways to the soul. Just looking at them, their irises boring into my own, calls a shiver along the back of my neck.

My, how the time has passed. I look away from my journal to see my granddather clock tick away where it stands tall and proudly against the wall of my room. Five ‘till nine.

Time for a new day.

**Journal II**

Honestly, to question the mind of the mortal man is to spiral down a deep well in the shadows of the night—for one to comprehend the thinkings and thoughts, they would have to stumble around in the dark, thrashing their hands out to grab at the passing answers. If there are any answers at all.

I say all of this to make you understand, on some note or level, that all men, no matter race or religion, are elaborate and inhibit complexities that defy all natural things in Nature. It is our being; it is, and I am sorry for my words if they cause offence, the religion of all. To want something more than we need is abnormal in the face of Nature. _Human_ Nature is opposed to _Natural_ Nature.

Just the other day, as I went to the park for my weekly stroll, I happened to pass by a family of three: a mother, a father, and their son. They seemed to be well off, though, “well off” is an understatement. They were rich. You could tell it in the way they walked, in the way they talked, and their clothing.

Their son was having a tantrum, no doubt about something trivial. The mother had her gloved hand covering her face in shock, the other trying to hold her child still. The father just shook his head in disappointment.

“Oh, my dear!” The mother cried, wrestling her son in her arms. “Whatever is the matter? What do you want from mommy, dear?”

At the word _want_, the child stilled and looked up at his mother with an innocent smile. “I want…a candy.”

I grew bored of the scene after that and continued my walk with thoughts swirling in my mind. That, however simple and small of a scene it was, is an example for the greater things that could happen with the word _want_ in the human mind.

For instance, a king could just want to get more land for his kingdom, killing off thousands upon thousands of people; destruction of life, a Natural Nature. Or, on a lower and personal scale, a husband could just want to have a different woman, leading to infidelity; destruction of trust, also, a Natural Nature.

Honestly, there are a many, many things one could derive from this one word that disturbs Natural Nature. Of course, it seems my time with you, journal, is running to a close.

It is, again, five ‘till nine.