Changed the belt on my vacuum cleaner today. by @OrphanMaekr

Forgotten MoonHer light shines down on,A world that has forgotten her.A light that guided many,In a not so long ago past.Her ghost light willing still,For those to follow her. Her eyes looking down atA world that has changed.They see all and what,Has become of the world.Her eyes bleed of sorrow.Going from calming azule,To that of raging crimson. How...How could...How could the...How could the world...How could the world forget...How could the world forget me...How could the world forget...How could the world...How could the...How could...How... Once proud and brighter,Now knocked down by theCity lights and blocked out,By the pollution of the world.Her light still shines,Though no one cares to look. How...How could...How could the...How could the world...How could the world forget...How could the world forget me...How could the world forget...How could the world...How could the...How could...How... She looks down on a world,That has all but forgotten her.She, though, in all that she is,Has not forgotten them. Every night she still showersThe world in her ghostlike.Hoping that one day,Someone will care to look,And be marveled by her beauty,Once more. How...How could...How could the...How could the world...How could the world forget...How could the world forget me...How could the world forget...How could the world...How could the...How could...How... Her ghost light shines still.For all of those that care to look.She still waits,Alone in the world that is lost.

Kiss From A ButterflyHe couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. He didn't want it to end like this. His daughter, the only significant thing in his life, had lost the fight. She had fought against her sickness for so long and he, a poor man, was unable to do anything but to watch her suffer and pray that if there was some high divine power somewhere above, they would hear his plead. But they didn't – if there even was any deity listening, that is. He had tried to seek help from healers, but it was all in vain. They had ended up being all alone with their painful problem, dwelling in despair. And so, it happened on that one autumn morning that the little girl took her last breath. She had been young, way too young, and it was unfair that fate had stolen her life so soon. Her father had stayed up all night, grasping her fragile hand, begging for a miracle. It didn't happen. Her life slipped away trough his fingers. His daughter, his most precious treasure, was gone. The inevitable had ensued. Then came the tears. His vision got blurred and he couldn't help it. He wept and wept, but no matter how much he cried, the tears that dropped couldn't bring relief to his bottomless sorrow at all. Why did this have to happen? Who was responsible of the demise of such innocent child? Oh, he so wanted that somewhere out there would be a higher force so he could blame them for this tragedy. Deeply mourning, the father raised his beloved daughter and started to carry her tiny body. There was only one thing he could do. If the stories that were told around his home village were true. Perhaps he still had a chance to see his little girl. He simply loved her too much to let her go this easily. He just had to go to the hill of butterflies. The grieving father carried his child's dead body out of their warm home. The weather was a bit cold and the sky was clouded and dark like the man's mind. He began his travel to the hill that was good distance away from their village. Protecting the figure of the dearest person in his life as if she was still breathing, he journeyed to his destination. Even though the world seemed grim at that moment, the hill was beautiful. A lot of colorful flowers were blooming, and as the man reached the top of the place, then sat down with his daughter still in his arms, it appeared as if the gorgeous plants were guarding them. The man embraced her, petting her long, dark hair. Now he just had to wait. So he waited. Eventually the dawn turned to dusk. That whole time the man had squeezed his child's empty husk, mumbling to himself that everything was going to turn alright and that he loved her more than anything. He was so focused on the small body on his arms that he didn't realize that something miraculous started to happen around them. However, it didn't take long for him to snap out of his somber state of mind and become more aware of his surroundings. The magnificent flowers didn't get reduced to buds as the veil of darkness intertwined around the world. Instead, they started to glow with a radiant light in many different colors. The sight was breath-taking, but there was still more to come. Then they appeared; the butterflies. It was as if the flowers had summoned them. Those beautiful tiny beings just materialized out of nowhere, each one of them conquering a blossom for themselves. And then, in unison, they took off from their little plant platforms, rising higher and higher, and began to dance in the air. The sight was stunning. The man could just stare in awe as the butterflies fluttered around them. So it was true. The fable about night butterflies was valid. They could help him. Soon one of the colorful insects separated from the group of its sisters and brothers, descending to meet the man. It landed on his lips, and the man closed his eyes. For a moment the time felt like it had stopped. Only when the butterfly decided to leave the spot to ascend again did the man open up his eyes. “Daddy?” Greatly astonished, the father shifted his gaze at his precious little girl he was holding. She was staring at him with bright and joyful eyes. She was alive, she was alive! He closed his daughter in a tight hug, tears of happiness rolling down his face. His heart was beating wildly, bursting with love for his only important being in his life. Delight killed all the last remains of his previous sorrow that he had felt when he had arrived to the hills. It was like that misfortune never even happened. “Thank you… thank you!” father whispered and made known his gratefulness for the little insects. “What's wrong daddy? Why are you crying?” the little girl inquired. The man wiped away his tears before answering: “Everything is okay now. Nothing is wrong.” Then he kissed his daughter's forehead. She let out a small giggly noise, which made the father's heart melt. After that, they both stood up, hand in hand and looked together at the dance of butterflies. Those small creatures began to flutter around the father and his child. The family members looked at each other with a sheer glee on the face of them both. Then they gazed to the sky above and collectively, still holding their hands together, they started to ascend to the heavens with butterflies.

EndlesslyThe stars are falling from the sky and I do not know why; are they escaping the blackest void that has spread across the heavens or are they tired of shedding tears to the world below that is now full of misery? The sight of their departure is beautiful nonetheless and when I shift my gaze away from the heavens and look back at you, I can see how the starlight is reflected from your glazed eyes, your body motionless as you wait for the sign that makes our bodies move like puppets controlled by strings. It seems like tonight you do not remember our earliest memories; I can see it from the way you are looking at me. No matter how many times I experience it, it always feels like a stab to the heart. I do not know if it is better this way, I am being torn apart anyway. Either we both retain our memories and are forced to face each other in the battlefield or one of us does not remember the other and thus only sees an enemy that has to be defeated while the other one is suffering from an unbearable heartache no one should ever have to endure. It never gets easier. But this is how our lives are, this is how it has been for a thousand years. Everything around us is dead and still, we remain. The soil under our feet has been lifeless for centuries, completely dry and cracked and nothing can grow from it. There are a few dead trees standing, like dry corpses, their branches like the fingers of the deceased as they desperately reach for the uncaring sky, begging for something, a rain or a sunshine, that would rejuvenate their withered carcasses. But the heavens ignore their silent cries. The trees here are the last ones remaining of a beautiful landscape before the war destroyed and butchered it all. Now they are nothing more but mementos of the days when everything was well. Winds play with their branches, twisting them, clinging onto them like mischievous spirits, not letting their dried-up corpses rest in peace. Tonight, however, the winds are in a different kind of mood. They are blowing across the vast field of nothingness in an ominous way and I can hear them whispering. They want blood, they want misery. I do not know what kind of sadistic glee they will gain from what is about to transpire here, but they will get what they wished for. With the vile winds came legions of soldiers of the past, groups of people I have seen for the past thousand years, but whom I cannot remember anymore. In my eyes, their bodies are translucent and their facial features have been smudged like ink stains. I simply do not recognize who they are anymore. Perhaps that is how they perceive me, maybe I am like a ghost to them, too. We are all supposed to be dead and gone now, and yet, here we are. Legions of ghostly soldiers have gathered behind your back and without looking, I know that I have comrades behind my back as well. We are all standing here, silent and motionless, waiting for the sign. Soon it comes: a blast of an ancient horn rushes throughout the battlefield, reaching every corner. The battle will begin and troops of soldiers who have spent a thousand years fighting the same war over and over again are engaging in a conflict once more, and some of them have forgotten why they even are here and what they are fighting for. But I know that losing your memories completely will not give you salvation. A luxury like a free will is something we do not have. Countless times I have raised my weapon against you and it just keeps getting harder – except on those days when I do not remember you. I do not want to do this anymore! But no matter how much I have begged or demanded this to end, it never does. My body is moving on its own, swinging my weapon, causing pain to you and every time my blade cuts your flesh, it feels like I just got cut, too. I never wanted to be part of this war and neither did you. The ancient mad lords forced us into this; they called it a holy war that would purify the land. But which side was the wicked and which was the righteous? There was no answer to that to begin with, the lords just wanted an excuse to steal the lands from the other one. This never was a holy war; it was a cursed one. We are still here, in the middle of a senseless battle, and where are the lords now? Have they died or just abandoned us, forcing us to repeat the war endlessly, unable to break out of this cycle? Just like our memories, the battlefield itself is flickering. It is unstable, a lot like our minds, and is unable to stay in its current state. Like ripples in time, flashes of various shapes of the field are echoing from the past, not sure which form to take. We can see past battles through the flickering and we are dancing macabrely together with the ghosts of our former selves. We will keep fighting even when our bodies start to break down. When do we stop? I do not know. Maybe when all of it is too much for a mortal mind to take and we get consumed by madness. Maybe when the land tries to reset itself and as a byproduct, so do we. Or maybe when whoever is pulling the strings gets tired. It definitely is not death that grants us a moment of rest and soothes our restless and rotten souls. Ah, how I see death as a friend… However, I have come to the conclusion that the world will die before we do.trophy

Princess ApartmentKhrushchevka royalty, apartment-bred The stump in the courtyard houses a fairy There’s a hollowed out brick with a spider scary Shadowed by a hollow box, of princess apartment Concrete Rumanov, will you rot in the forest or in a Cementery? a house elf left a print in the cement, now the path has the hole of a coin sized hoof Leave a leaf under your pillow, four more if you’re behind on payment, Gnomes tend to be forgiving debtors Spriggans shouldn’t be landlords They burst the bubble in ‘08 Blamed it on that NFT monkey

[A.Teatime.Tradition.For.Two.][Dark Sun: PoE: A Tea Time Tradition For Two] [[Written by @Cheerful-SixEars ]] Within the serene, bamboo structured hut within the mystical and cozy forest seemingly well hidden so perfectly from any commoner’s knowledge, Papillon and his brother Devin-Jiang were bustling and setting up for a nice evening of warm tea and relaxing meditation. It was their day of birth, so to say. The day that most mortals consider and represent as 'Christmas' a winter holiday for sure, but not for them. It was their day to celebrate themselves and their bond.They spent the weeks prior, whenever manageable, collecting the needed herbs, fruits, and leaves for specific spiced blends that they commonly enjoyed, year round, whenever the ingredients were in season. They were nipped by cold and overcome with the want to sleep the frigid days into the blooming spring’s breeze and summer’s warmest rays. The frost nipped at their toes and the tips of their tails, but they worked hard to meet this yearly end goal as to celebrate it together, in cherished unison.They worked overtime and extra hard to collect the glossy jade green Jasmine tea leaves that they so earnestly loved. As the water worked up to a whistling, steaming boil in their favorite floral tea kettle, Papillon worked to drag their comfiest cushions out onto the small front porch balcony. It was perfect in size for the two of them to perch on. While Papillon worked to situate their seating, Devin lit a few spiced peach scented incense cones in a burner that was shaped very similarly to the infamously adored Monkey King. They were Devin’s favorites, and Papillon grinned with genuine amusement from Devin’s excited chortles and chittering as a result of Pap’s agreement to settle on that scent for the evening.The piercing whistle of the kettle was alarm enough to raise both their ears to sudden alertness and excitement. Devin’s mouth was momentarily agape as he glanced over to Papillon, who’s excitement was more of a gentle gaze of amusement. He nodded in a gesture to Devin to go and fetch the kettle so they could steep their tea to blissfully sweet, aromatic perfection.With the momentary time that Devin fetched the kettle and Papillon arranged the furniture and swept the balcony to perfection, they both pulled well-concealed trinkets from their fur to exchange with each other. Papillon smiled very warmly at a golden ring with a sunburst-chiseled pattern while the ring’s arches were structured like that of Sun Wukong’s historical crown upon his cocky brow. Devin had unraveled a small pendant in the shape of a crescent moon attached on the end of a reddish leather band.When Devin hobbled outside onto the balcony with the teapot in paw, they poured the heated water into their mugs and huddled closely to each other’s snow-kissed fur coats. They exchanged their gifts with the most childish giggles and amused, gentle smiles. Their eyes expressed the most gleaming allure and their hearts swelled with the wondrous feelings of safety and familial admiration for the other. They giggled and with jovial appreciation they hugged each other with the utmost gentility in their hearts.They flavored their steeped and steamy tea and chatted about golden memories and the promised hopeful dreams that they aspired to achieve and reach together. They laughed and smiled so wide at each other’s jokes and jovial comments about some of the silliest moments. Their harmonious connection was something only few ever experienced in life. They always were the happiest amongst each other. They thrived and shone the brightest for reaching such a peaceful and simple time in their once prior, tumultuous lives.They spent hours sipping their tea and eating the few snacks they baked and prepped for the golden evening. They admired the sun’s retreat and mother moon’s rising entrance to high view. They hummed in unison as a gentle breeze caressed their muzzles and snow-powdered cheek furs. Devin trembled and Papillon scoffed as the pulled a blanket up over themselves, cuddling close together, almost falling into a relaxed nap.They soon closed their heavy little eyes and fell into a gentle slumber, blissfully relishing in the gentle, warmest glow within their swelled, ever-grateful hearts. The simplest of enjoyments bring the biggest joys for the humbled little simians. They would cherish the very day, any time it was spent with each other, as long as they endured it and celebrated their lives together.…End…

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