“Still dwelling on what’s done?” A man came up behind her, standing a respectful distance from her, and yet the feeling of adoration was almost visible.
“No, not on what’s done, but what was left unfinished” she frowned, and twirled a creamy colored quill pen in the fingers of her right hand.
“You left, let your heart dwell here, my lady” he took a step forward, a frown of worry creasing his brow.
“But should I have left? Where they ready for me to step away?” she turned towards him, a strand of blond hair falling in her face, and she brushed it away, her eyes turning sad. She added softly, with a tinge of remorse haunting her words, “Was I ready?”
“You know I am not capable of answering such questions for you, my lady”
She nodded, “I know…I know” she turned to look up at the dark sky absent of stars, but with cursive writing etched across it’s black expanse, “they call for me, their Mother, to return”
“And will you?” the man moved to stand next to her on the balcony overlooking a most mystical land of rivers, mountains, shadows and lights.
She nodded, and slipped her hand in his, “Can I not?” he smiled, and squeezed her hand, “Writer Mother, do what you must. You are our creator and you are the only one who can choose where your heart goes, but all I ask is…”
She nodded, knowing what he wanted to say, but was afraid to word.
She knew him, for he was a piece of her heart, as was this whole place, and every other place, every other world, her worlds.
“I will return to you, but I must finish the business I left undone. My heart will never be easy until I finish writing what I had started” she smiled up at him, and for a moment, wanted to hug him close like a Mother to her child, “How can I not return to one of my children?”
He laughed lightly, “I don’t think you can” he folded her into a hug, holding his Author Mother close before backing away, “We shall await your return, my lady”
She gathered her long skirts about her, and went to stand near a shimmering doorway that appeared from thin air, its surface looking rather like an inked painting.
“Do you think I fully leave you? Even while I am with the others, I shall be here too; I cannot leave me children completely. Even if it is in going to another” she blew him a kiss, and stepped through the doorway, her being disappearing into another fictional world bared to him.
And truth she had spoken, her heart remained. It was divided among all her children, divided in all the worlds she had created; A piece of her forever remaining even when it was finished and grown. Even when she set them to sail off on their own, as she stood on the shore, waving her banner, and drying her eyes with a fragranced handkerchief, she remained with them. Her mother spirit wafting like a gentle breeze.
He smiled, and took a deep breath, and watched as her writing instruments turned into a curl of smoke, and headed up towards the worded skies, doubtlessly going to join her in the other world she had left to.
And he turned back to the castle, heading to do the tasks the Author Mother had already set for him to do.
One doesn’t have much spare time when your Author likes to have dragons slain, trained, and befriended.
You know, I truly have no idea where this sprang from.....but, in case you wonder, its me and an unnamed male character.
And yet....I think I've started a new story as well.....
It was so weird.....and....nice. It just felt...just nice.
Tell me if my constant writing chatter is boring you to tears....