Where am I?
What does this little child see? Tumbling down the hills, rolling and tripping at any attempt to recover from her fall. What is in this little child’s imaginative eyes? Maybe she is chasing an angry tiger away from destroying her home town. That was mere imagination to anyone else’s eyes but to that kid it was her whole world. Perhaps that was her trying to hide from the vulgar truth of nature, postponing it with her strong imagination. The trees watched as she bumbled after a butterfly? What was this butterfly’s role in this world of imagination? Perhaps it’s the mean tiger stealing or it’s the maiden running away as Misty becomes the tiger.
As the gods were feasting, one particular god seemed fascinated in this little kid. Perhaps it was her carelessness of the world around her or the fact that there were grisly bruises and cuts ruling this little girl and she hadn’t noticed quite yet. He shrank in his seat in despair for he could see the ugly future. What he could see was too big of an adventure. One of the child’s dreams but soon to be her trauma. Pity was written in his eyes as he munched on his salad. It is god’s law that one will not interfere with one’s life so he watched her mother to call her to the safety of the house. He did not know when, but he did know most of the how’s soon to come in her adventure. “Misty,” her mother hollered from inside their Cottage “it’s your favourite, roast lamb!” Misty’s heart skipped at that as she left her world of fantasies behind in the playground.
At the dinner table Misty tore at the lamb with her teeth. Who needs knives anyways? Through mouthfuls of meat Misty recited her brave encounter with the evil tiger. A smug gleam in her rose-gold eyes. Tales of Misty’s fantasies drifted through the house in her cheerful voice filling it with laughter. Her eyes happy crescents as she acts out the scene rolling on the floor. She pounced, she slashed and she growled when she was acting out the tiger. Misty climbed onto the table and yelled “Leave them alone, it’s me who you’re looking for!” as she bounded of the table, play sword in hand, slamming it down onto the floor where the tiger was. She shrieked she sprinted and she swung her play sword.
She wanted justice against the tiger, a rematch. So after dinner she burst out the doors of her house and hunted after the tiger, only to find the tiger’s hideout! All the butterflies bolted away in surprise, but Misty was determined to find the rare faraceit butterfly, the queen and stop this crime. “I shall conquer you once and for all tiger!” She hollered into the darkness of the woods. The butterflies scattered across the woods at her high-decibel voice. As she sprinted through the trees the hue around her slowly changed from sky blue to a gradient of a pink and orange sunset. She chased for ages oblivious to all things surrounding her. Eventually a deep dark blue and black blanketed the calm, silent woods. The woods only had the sounds of the orange autumn leaves crunching underneath Misty’s small feet. Misty’s only light source was the crescent moon shining through the gaps in the treetops revealing a glint of orange through the tall, brown tree trunks
Panting for breath she paused for a short moment, she heard a rustling noise made by sharp claws in he deep thicket. An actual, real life tiger shot out of the dark trees right before her very own eyes but Misty’s dry throat protested against screaming. Pink scales spread like a disease from horn to talon, enormous blue wings burst out of her back as she shot into the cold, dark sky. The cool wind biting at her scales. In the darkness she couldn’t make out the familiar shape of home, not a single campfire visible in the darkness, she couldn’t hear a single shout, not a single “Misty!” As she was searching around frantically turning left and right soaring and flapping. A desperate roar broke the forest’s silence. Startled, Misty whirled around to find the owner of that fierce, loud roar. Left, right, forwards, backwards until finally down. When she finally looked down the animals below her stared up at her in newly earnt respect as if she had been the maker of that roar. Impossible Misty thought, I have never, ever roared before! but the animals in the forest beneath her thought otherwise.
Misty’s wings were aching with effort, they weren’t going to hold her much longer. She plummeted as fast as a stone towards the twigs and leaves of the forest floor. She tried to grasp onto whatever was within her arm’s reach, air whooshing through her fingers. The sounds of her sandpaper throat’s screams drowned out the animals’ laughter and mockery. Tree branches mercilessly giving her splinters instead of hospitality. She neared the bottom of the forest floor hands grasping air. Snickers from the animals of the forest was now the new sound, no crunching of leaves, no, Misty was now airborne. Her brown hair flailing in the wind covering her eyesight. Mother wouldn’t know what killed me. Tears stung her eyes at that grim though, at the helplessness that she now owned. A shallow river was beneath her filled with unforgiving sharp rocks. No matter how much Misty flailed her arms she was falling, into the rocks.
The god was forced to sit and watch as new wounds opened through his eyes turning the once clear water a musty red. How many more will die before him? He was a god but he had to sit and watch them die. He had to be helpless. What use were these stupid powers anyway?
