The Most Important Things

“He said there is nothing more that they could do, so we had to let her go, I’m sorry.”

“I thought about whatever was most important to me that day.”

“There is nothing more we can do, so you have to let her go. I’m sorry.” His voice attempted to be gentle; reassuring; sympathetic, even. But it didn’t help at all. Behind his voice and in his eyes you could see his boredom, his want to get this over with. If I wasn’t too busy sobbing, too busy thinking, I might’ve attacked him. There was only one thing on my mind, though, and it was liquid, chocolate brown eyes and silky, mottled fur. Whites, browns, blacks and greys all molding together in a beautiful tapestry, concealing a constant buzz of energy and rippling, corded muscles. All I could think about was a sloppy, wet pink tongue and rough-grained paws furtively seeking my attention and love. Memories sparked and ran across my vision, blinding me with tears. A beaming mother proudly presenting a tiny, yipping puppy, squirming to escape her grasp. An awkward, lanky dog sprinting across the house and hitting every piece of furniture in sight, slipping on the tiled floors. A mad dash across the yard in a fruitless chase of dreams. A foolhardy leap into a pond, chasing after ducks. A silly—and loud—encounter with a closed screen door at the sound of a name. Days and days spent in happy content with the gentle touch of a loving owner and softly drooping eyes as they slowly fell asleep. 10 years of a best friend, irreplaceable to me. The veterinarian desperately tried to console me, seeking to steer us towards a hate-filled bill, but I was in no mood for his antics. I only thought about whatever was most important to me that day. And any other day.

An Enemy of the Kingdom

A harsh wind blew Corporal Andreran’s navy blue cloak over his shoulder. Grumbling in annoyance, he impatiently shoved it back. His cruel, crystal eyes scanned the surrounding forest warily as he applied gentle pressure to his horse’s sides, guiding it around a bend in the trail. A yawn broke his face and he glanced at the pale sky, gauging the sun’s position and a break in the eternal marching. Suddenly, Anderan heard excessive swearing from several of the men behind him, and the sounds of many men trying to move in panic. He spun around in time to see a second solider fall to a cobalt marked arrow piercing his throat. A third one flew in at impossible speed, and another of his men fell. He yelled at his men to reach cover, drawing his sword as he did so. His soldiers made a mad rush for the trees, drawing swords and unlimbering bows as they charged. There was a flash of darkness and he saw a sapphire-studded dagger embed itself in the back of one of the retreating men.

Anderan flew off his horse, landing heavily among the green foliage in the trees. He spun, barking orders to his men to form a defensive line, sending several of them out to scout the area. There was a sound of air hissing, and several leaves fell after the coming of a steel blade, slicing into armor as if it was made of butter. The man made hardly a sound as he died, collapsing heavily to the ground. Still Anderan had seen no sign of the attacking force. It looked as if several of his troop were fighting something on his left flank, but one by one they fell in rapid succession. There was chaos, his men dropping weapons and attempting to flee, only to be cut down by the shade in their midst. Bodies lay against tree trunks, and swords lay abandoned in emerald bushes.

Anderan attempted to call his men to him, putting his back to a dark brown tree trunk, holding his sword in a defensive position. Several rallied, crowing around him and slashing at everything that moved. There was another flash of darkness, and a tall, muscular man cloaked in mottled greens, tans, and chestnuts seemingly appeared in front of Anderan. His blade whipped to the side with ludicrous speed and precision, and another soldier fell to the dirt. A soldier charged from behind and his gloved hand flicked, sending a dagger into his throat. The hooded man cut down the last soldier in front of Anderan, and slashed at his neck. Anderan barely managed to bring his sword up in time to stop him. Another flick, and another bare miss. The man in front of him grinned, strands of brunette hair escaping his hood, and swung at Anderan again. Mid-swing his blade reversed direction, too quickly for Anderan to keep up, and the attacker’s blade sunk into his side.

There was so much red. Dark blood covered everything, turning spring into autumn. Crimson filled Anderan’s vision. Scarlet splattered boots slowly made their way in front of Anderan’s face, and a grinning man appeared there. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” He drew a dagger from his sleeve, clearly enjoying himself. He glanced around at the carnage and gore and sighed, as if he was disappointed it was over. “I would’ve like to have kept one alive, to send a message, but I got into it too much.” He confided to Anderan, tapping the flat of the blade against the palm of his hand. “Oh well, can’t do much about it, can I?” Corporal Anderan gasped in pain as the long, thin blade of the dagger sank into his throat. He tried to speak but his mouth filled with blood instead. His eyes closed, and all he saw was black.

A Sailor's Grave

Underneath the thriving Everlight Wisterias

Underneath the Peaceful Blue of night and moon

A Historical legend places a grave of unknown identity

With the stars crafting a Charted Course to anywhere

Out of the blue a ship breaks waves as it passes

A Cool Breeze from the island whips the hair

Of a man who warily watches from the Starboard side

Nautical Blue

The moon's eyes turn to

The darkness of the ocean

Waves reflects the night

Cranberries

Giant yawn transforms

Into a stretch for one more

Dark red cranberry

Golden Apricot

Gone for years are the days

Of childlike peace and happiness

Lost for ages are the memories

Days spent in the golden sun

Even with the most amazing pictures

No one can stop the tide of time

All the time I spent in bliss

Perpetrating great schemes

Running among any surroundings

Including it in my games

Called back by my parents

One moment of childhood remains

The taste of a golden apricot

Lily's Pond

It was an enchanted place, Lily’s pond. The secret grove was brimming with lively sounds and vibrant colors, all spinning in a mesmerizing dance of pure, unforgiving beauty. Every soft, nature-scented breeze, delicate flower, and unique, green-tinged leaf spoke of life. The crystal waters of the pond lapped gently against the supple grass reinforcing the shore, and sunlight sparkled across rippling waves. Any stranger would gasp at their gorgeous surroundings, and find themselves lost for hours among its magical properties. But the memories behind those surreal colors dampen my once deep love for Lily’s pond. When walking alongside the untainted waters of the pond, I can only think of the little girl who breathed sweet innocence and was the picture of childlike perfection that took the pond and called it her own. The young child who spent hours inside her hidden place, guarding its secrets with a fervor only children can have, falling hopelessly in love with the animals and the nature. So many times I looked outside to watch her run among the trees, chasing her creatures and tumbling down grassy inclines. I lost count of the times I wandered through to find her sleeping, nestled in the warm embrace of a tree, or curled on the grass. But one memory stands well above the rest, of watching the gentle wind push my little girl, and the ancient trees trip her, and the liquid blue waters steal her away from me. One moment replays itself over and over, because I wasn’t fast enough. That enchanted place is Lily’s pond, because she will always live there, and the pond will always have her.