“Who is first amongst equals?” Socrates asked.
“I am!” stomped Earth. “Without me, there is no ground for arguments to stand on.”
“Boooo!!” howled Wind. “Did you lift that bit from Water? Or did you get mud in your ears?”
“Stop blowing smoke!!!” roared Water. “No, I mean… stop with the nonsense.”
“Hahahaha” cracked Fire. “Water, I thought you’d be the most fluid. Never knew you’d rather be air-dried cough cough 😊”
Socrates rolled his eyes and sighed “I’m appointing Aether as first. Rest of you… get a planet.”
“What hubris!” the four exclaimed.
Every winter solstice, Eve awaited a message from Apollo. Her husband had embarked on a dangerous mission to chart the fringes of the universe. Catastrophe struck the vessel and the last letter was strewn across the wide cosmos. Erecting a beacon that could transmit signals faster than light, she hoped to warp the past from the present. Every attempt however merely distorted the circumstances; the ship collided into an asteroid, lost compression from a puncture, ran out of oxygen… She mourned each failure knowing that each misstep resealed her beloved’s fate. Such was the cost paid for her undying love.
Entry to this week’s What Pegman Saw! Location is La Santísima Trinidad de Paraná in Paraguay.
A young prince once asked an old cripple how he could sleep so soundly each night. The cripple responded that he had been born with his deformities and had learned to live with this fact. Curious, the prince offered to have his best doctors and servants treat him. The old man chuckled and politely declined, replying that he was content with his lot in life. That night, the boy dreamed that he had turned into the cripple who begged for his livelihood. Waking up from the nightmare, he swore to never let such a fate come to pass.
Decades later in old age, the prince who ascended the throne and became king wandered the halls alone at night. Now an insomniac, he cursed the cripple for having steered him onto his current path. On his deathbed, the man finally broke down and begged for a reprieve. His wish was granted.
A young boy frolicked by a spring-time lake. In his exuberance, he accidentally trips over Death’s scythe and falls into the water unconscious. Death pulls the boy out from under as it was before his time. He then etches the true hour of fate in the back of the child’s mind.
Decades later, an old man returns to the site. He finds Death waiting in a gazebo overlooking a winter-time lake before announcing that he’s ready. Death inquires whether he’d live a different life if ignorant of his fate. The man replies no. The reaper grins and wakes him up.
Shade of Hellos, you’ve lingered far too long.
Wept dry tears after sorrow turned bitter.
Swallowed a rock that settled in your gut.
But I now see your barricades crumbling.
For I’ve kindled a small fire in the dark,
by a tiny corner den in your heart.
Extinguish it you may try, but white fire never dies.
And grow it will into a conflagration.
And burn it will all rotten deadwood.
Melting the sap that suffocates the air so.
Opening that canopy that kept you low.
Till all that remains is red ashes and charcoal.
Fertile grounds for a new life and soul.
So awaken now young seedling, become the tree of life.
Grow tall and dig deep for there will be strife.
The shade no longer hides the sand.
Hellos now shines across the land.
Illume, the light of the soul, had been blessed with the gift of life. She could animate all that she touched with a flick of her wrist, turning earth into gnomes, water into spirits, wind into doves, and fire into sprites. The dark lord who wanted to possess her however cast a pernicious spell while she slept.
One night, Illume encountered an ebony mirror in her dreams. The mirror did not reflect who one was but instead who one could be. On that night, a resplendent queen appeared in her guise who commanded the adoration and love of all the subjects in the land. The next night, a powerful sorceress emerged atop a mountain who fended off a great barbarian invasion from the north. On the third, a fierce huntress and she-wolf materialized and nearly leapt out of the panel.
The midnight encounters continued for centuries as the dream world slowly bled into her waking life. Illume developed her powers, transmuting herself into every one of the possibilities that the mirror showed. Each time, the ebony mirror absorbed some of her light, slowing turning its dark shade into a translucent sheen until she was eventually no more. By the end, a magic mirror stood in her place in a lonesome tower. The dark lord at long last arrived to claim his prize. When he gazed between the frames, he saw nothing but a blinding light for the magic mirror no longer reflected what one could be, but what one can never have.
A late pie act burnt his face,
And ate pieces. Attractive urn kiss surface.
Band mated piecemeal. Reactive turnip is laced.
Contraband matter mealworms regurgitated nipple vis bootlace.
Contrast tattered wormwood agitated pineapple vista tollbooths.