alittledeer

stygianopal:

So this has a story, I’m curious how many actually know the books I’m talking about:

Back in like…6th grade, I was introduced to this old novel series called “Birth of the Firebringer”. Really short trilogy, I could read through it in a couple days. So, I did.

Basically, a story of unicorns, thrown from their home by lying wyrms, and only to return when the prophesied Firebringer is born, introducing his people to fire which would kill the wyrms and they could return home after 400 years.

Hard to summarize all of it, I read it again recently and was pleasantly surprised that I still very much enjoyed the books.

There are also gryphons and dragons and other beasts, I’ll draw them at some point.

there are times that i want to leave.

leave everything.

i just want to get up, fix my eyes on the horizon, and go.

i don’t care where i’d go, i’d just go.

if i could fly, i’d let my wings carry me onwards and onwards. i would sail over empty ocean, live forests, and busy cities.

i would take comfort in all the thousands of millions of lives that i pass by, knowing that we would never meet and never touch, but they exist.

maybe some are heartbroken. maybe some are happy. maybe some are finding their crush at a coffee shop. others are mourning a lost job. all of them stories, intricate, woven, yet comparatively small.

as small as me, and my story. we are all just stories.

if i could walk, i would let my feet carry me past those stories. i would explore every alley, street, and abandoned road. i would walk through fields and forests and towns and never stop once. just a passerby.

i would lose myself in getting lost.

i would be reassured by the unfamiliar. knowing those places haven’t been touched by my story. they are new, they are there for me to explore and observe.

i would forget everything, everything i felt, everything i thought. there would be nothing but air and ground and whatever i surround myself with.

there would be nothing but peace.

nothing but breath.

i wouldn’t need my own story. i would become the stories around me.

i would wander, only lightly touching the lives of people around me. an occasional chat with a stranger who doesnt care who i am or where i’ve been or what i’ve done. a bite to eat alone in a restaurant, soothed by voices i’ve never heard.

everything would be momentary. i would be only me, at that time, for an instant. that place, and those people, would be an increment of time. then i would move on.

never stopping, always wondering what’s around the next bend or hill, what’s possibly in that new town and what life that stranger leads.

i would absorb the world. all its joy and pain and millions of tiny stories that make up the place we call earth.

i would have no one, and yet, i would have everyone.

one unimportant story touched by all others.

there are times i want to leave.

but ultimately, my heart is devoted. my soul is woven forever to other stories. they are helping me fill in my pages.

and my book can’t finish empty.