The Call_Red touches yellow_Make My Own Tale_The Tale of the World Through the Eyes of The Oak
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The Call
The first time my fledgling lungs fill with air, its humid warmth almost makes me choke. It’s thick, somehow, so unlike the frigid waters of our gorge. As I rise from the sea, I can feel my salt-crusted shoulders already beginning to sting in the bite of the wind. So, I think, this is what it is like to live above. The sea mud seems to hold tighter to my feet with each step that I take towards shore. Footstep by footstep, I pull further from home. The lights of land are bright and diffuse in the heavy air; as I grow closer the spots of brightness solidify into lanterns, windows, dangling bulbs...
Red touches yellow
I love to drive. I spend most of my day driving the same route back and forth. I still like it because it takes me thought the countryside and you can see the changes in the seasons. There are all kinds of festivals in the small towns I go though but, I never seem to stop.Today is the day I change that forever. I have decided to follow a new route and I am going to what ever festival I find. It is spring time. Cool mornings and warm days are here.So the very first festival I find is a reptile festival. I like nature and hike on a regular basis but most reptiles I am not a fan of. I see cages w...
Make My Own Tale
Make My Ownwww.onedoor.cc Tale Sitting up here, breeze through my now short hair is a good thing. Lightheaded sensations, if I shake my head no super-long tresses flop about, no weight making my neck sore. I sense again whisk of his sword pass my ear, rugged tugs and release of strands being severed from my head, each lock a leaden weigh falling away. Who would regard a haircut as bliss? Short hair more like me, fits my stereotype. I should be glad, except so many negatives push in. Firstly, his saddle pommel pinches against my thigh. I’m sure there is going to be a huge bruise later. His face, unshaven, s...
The Tale of the World Through the Eyes of The Oak
I do not remember when it was that I tasted the light of the sun for the first time - if such a moment even existed. But she was there each time I began anew, bathing me with her luminescence, fueling the desperate growth of my fingers trying to reach her, the determined burrowing of my roots deeper into the earth, and the ever-widening girth of my trunk. I do not remember the first but the cycle is always the same, and it has been happening for ages far longer than the furthest stretches of my memories.The oldest memories I have are of cold days, days long before They were born. The leagues o...