01-26-2019, 10:09 PM
Awake and free of the smoke imbued nightmare, I find myself disoriented once awareness grips me again. It had all seemed so very real, and now I wasn't sure that this field was true. Would it go up in flames as well? Eaten up by hungry fire while I fought in vain to escape? It was a dreadful thought, and it took me a moment more than it should have to fight past it and realise that time was running out. Everywhere I looked, blooms faded like oversaturated watercolors, once brilliant hues melting into dull echoes of their former glory.
Watching them, I felt my own vibrancy fade, sucked dry by an unfamiliar feeling of ineptitude. This had been my first attempt at doing something that went beyond myself, that effected others. I might have helped, but as I began to frantically rustle through a field of papery flowers, I realized I had missed it. My chance to help was gone, withered with the season's first blooming. Stranded in the midst of the now dull field, muted petals caught up in the tangled strands of mane and feathering, I felt angry at myself for falling short. Others would succeed, I hoped, all wouldn't be lost. Still, the disappointment clung to me like the ghosts of flowers, an old perfume no longer used.
Head held at half mast, I let the tip of my sun gold horn trail mournfully through the now brittle stalks surrounding me. I hoped this wouldn't be the last blooming I would see. It had been a wonderful thing to witness, even if the side effects had been a bit brutal. Blinking into the morning's light, I shook my head lightly. I think i might linger a while, and see what other flowers this place had to offer.
Watching them, I felt my own vibrancy fade, sucked dry by an unfamiliar feeling of ineptitude. This had been my first attempt at doing something that went beyond myself, that effected others. I might have helped, but as I began to frantically rustle through a field of papery flowers, I realized I had missed it. My chance to help was gone, withered with the season's first blooming. Stranded in the midst of the now dull field, muted petals caught up in the tangled strands of mane and feathering, I felt angry at myself for falling short. Others would succeed, I hoped, all wouldn't be lost. Still, the disappointment clung to me like the ghosts of flowers, an old perfume no longer used.
Head held at half mast, I let the tip of my sun gold horn trail mournfully through the now brittle stalks surrounding me. I hoped this wouldn't be the last blooming I would see. It had been a wonderful thing to witness, even if the side effects had been a bit brutal. Blinking into the morning's light, I shook my head lightly. I think i might linger a while, and see what other flowers this place had to offer.
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Twin to Erotic