She surveyed the undergrowth and focused on a cluster of fern fronds curled tightly against the new life they had been given. She often wondered why the fern’s new existence was so firmly wound up. But she questioned their response no longer. Oaklee felt every muscle in her body want to curl up in self-protection, to comfort the pain, anger, and fear.

Feelings are real. They often become one’s reality. But they are not always based on truth.

Are you ready to discover what is real?

Once again, he became outraged that humans—more specifically his dad—would rather invest in something pointless than the people right in front of them. Would Earth still suffer and need movements dedicated to its healing if humankind was rooted in reality?

Not a single rumor whispered on the wind here. He was too high up for such lowly experiences, too removed from the mundane and the pain. For these few blessed moments the rushing sensations blew away his controversial existence. And he smiled.

He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed. Like the hiss of incinerating ashes. 'What is this bright, orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?

My heart is broken and I grieve, for I have known love. Your heart is broken and you grieve, for you have not.

How boys transitioned from bothersome pests to men who made her pulse skip a beat and her head swim in a flood of pleasurable sensations was beyond her. Perhaps this was the true definition of magic.

In her mind, the ground rumbled and split open revealing the edge into a dark abyss. The shadows were always calling to her. Laughing at her. The familiar strains of loneliness flared under their torment. Drawing in a deep breath, she screamed to the black, “You’re not allowed to hurt me and know it!” Her voice echoed off the earthen walls and whispered back, “Be free. Be fearless.

There is a difference between being able to love and believing your love is valuable, worth giving away.

Secrets are foolish creatures, I have learned. No longer do I wish to play with fools.

Love has little to do with romance and everything to do with honor.

Sometimes words ruin everything.

The fish, whose tail was nipped, separated itself from the group and began to appear sickly, most likely from stress, Coal reasoned. He refused to be this fish, or the belly up fish, or the blue fish gasping for air. Rather, he resolved to be the other fish, the one who found purpose and meaning despite the unnatural environment, despite depending upon keepers for survival.

He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed. Like the hiss of incinerating ashes. "What is this bright, orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?

As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.

Secrets upon secrets were weaving into a strange and mysterious fabric that would ultimately clothe his future.

Their leafy whispers delighted her, and she promised her confidentiality by gently touching the trunks of both trees. They had held her secrets close to their hearts, she could do no less.

Multi-colored lights flashed and glared on the wet road and cast eerie reflections, reminiscent of artistic surrealism. Fillion imagined that his distress and anger swirled and moved with the refracted lights, creating an urban masterpiece of demented fury.

The scenic route was a paved graveyard of dreams, but Fillion hoped his would rise from the ashes, marking the moment when he would finally own his life.

Leaf felt buried beneath the remains of their prior life, the ashes coating every part of who he thought he was in this community.