inspiredbychocolate

My earliest memory is probably when I was four, maybe five years old. All my other memories of this time are vague and unclear but this memory is distinct. I can remember the exact taste and smell of every surface in the house. I sat cross-legged on a brown shag rug and watched the hypnotic orange and blue flames of the fire perform their strange dances before my curious eyes. The smell of lilies and pinecones mixed in the air, creating a memorable scent and through every window stretched a sea of endless whiteness in all directions. My mother stood by the fireplace, watching it with blank eyes. I remember getting up and wobbling unsteadily

As Apollo ends his graceful, dainty flight, And Luna slips politely into view, Zephyr has kissed the rocks and stones goodnight -- And all the little silver pebbles too. When fleeting faeries close their tiny eyes, And busy bees have gone to lazy rest -- The Forest sings those hushèd lullabies, And Darkness claims her bittersweet conquest. See how those creeping dangers come at night, Clandestinely yet stealthily they crawl, Too patient are the wicked souls to fight -- Be sure into their traps you do not fall. So worry not, my child, I pray of thee -- No entity shall harm you; save for me.

 In the midst of a nation damaged by centuries of turmoil, lies a valley where the sun never rises; through which no soul dares to tread. Northeast of the valley, where the forest bears no trees, where the river flows dry, where nefarious cries of hungry birds echo spitefully, the jagged, towering hills knife the heavens and stand as silent witnesses of the greatest war mankind has ever seen. The land once teemed with timid creatures, once crawled with colorful curiosities, is now a cruel testament; a necropolis of hope and all things good. The air is saturated with a thick, grey fog. The earth, scorched and dry, holds in its stifling depths