Dear, god. Dear mother. I miss you my forest. Dear, heart. Dear father I miss you my sea.
For the few people I know call me the child of the forest. For I seek freedom alongside my sister. For I travel the world from forest to forest and beaten track to ever so slightly more replenished track.
For it is I who loves even those who hate me. For it is I who love all those who love me.
For it is I who will sit steady and listen and the wind whistles through curled and tramped leaves. Through the boughs of branches, through the heights of the canopy.
This is my homeland.
My father of the sea, how you made the waves to paint my face and how you write to me, and tell me you love me. All through scriptures in the sand. The roar of the waves is the sound of your breathing and with in your soul are the many creatures I seek truth from within. For it is I who carried the water and poured it into a hole and created you. For it is I who remembers all those heavy pots and buckets balanced upon my head, hands and shoulders.
For it is I. My parents only child who created my sister. With the blood and bones of the dead. Her pale white skin as pale as clean bone. Her eyes as red as the blood that flows from our hearts to our toes. For it is I who loves family, nor sorrow and weakness. For it is I who created this land.
YOU ARE READING
The Guide
General FictionA series of very short stories. All in varying writing styles. I'd say my favourite is Ravenous.
