A Realm Without Rain

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Digital drawing. Silhouette of a hooded figure seen from the back and from waist up, standing in front of a large window with twelve panes. Two glowing translucent wings, delicate like a fly’s, emerge from the figure’s back. The window is framed with dark fuzzy curtains. Outside, gray clouds loom overhead. A few spots of light and hazy shapes are visible past a haze of rain, falling at an angle. A few drops and trickles of water appear on the window glass.

“Tell me of your wanderings,” my sovereign said, as I bowed before them.

“I bring gifts and I bring tidings,” I said.  I gestured to the pallet of goods from the land I had recently visited. 

“Have you found a worthy place?” my sovereign asked, ignoring my gifts.

I raised my head, but kept my eyes lowered.  “Yes, sovereign.  Worthy, but…I encountered a great challenge.”

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The Children of the Rain and the Sun

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When they were young, the seven children of the Rain and the Sun were inseparable.  They were magnificent, these children.  When they were born, so too were colors born into the world.  And the colors bore the names of the seven children.  Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet.

What each child touched became that color.  The red petals of a rose, the orange cheeks of a young fairy, the green spires of a pine, the indigo eye of a peacock’s feather.  They would join hands and skip through the world, coloring as they went. Continue reading