And suddenly I'm five again.
I tear through the wildflowers in a meadow of dry grass, the occasional tree framing my path. I am a maelstrom of jubilee, and the world before me is no ordinary meadow. It's a secret garden, where I sing to the trees and tell stories to the critters that beckon from within. It's a mystical clearing full of magic, witchcraft, sorcery. Perhaps a dragon lives just over the bend?
Tender sunlight caresses my face -- it's only half an hour before it too will sleep. Worming its way into my lungs, I laugh. The world looks terribly small from up here, and I feel like a king upon men, gallivanting through the land that belongs only to me.
Panting heavily, I slow down, but do not stop running. I run like a demon set free, a hellraiser. I make flower crowns, and I start a mud fight. I am everyone, and no one. I am the wind, and I am the grass that I just stepped on, and I am the tree that watches from afar. Nothing has meaning, and I am lost in a sea of giddiness and sun-kissed, sweet joie de vivre.
And everything around me is alive. The rocks that warn of obstacles in my path, the birds that guide my way home, the wind that offers me lullabies. I kick off my shoes in a fit of rebellion, and the dirt has never felt so inviting.
As I near my neighborhood, I wish the sun a good night, and the moon winks back at me.
YOU ARE READING
Musings and Tidbits
RandomSome writing prompts/random stories (one-shot) that come to me and I feel like sharing :)
