A Piece Of Paper Lays Underneath Leshy's Pillow, Unnoticed.

a piece of paper lays underneath leshy's pillow, unnoticed.

one day, as he reaches underneath, he finds it.

his hands cross it, but detect no physical signs of writing.

merely a blank sheet of painter's paper.

...

isn't he supposed to do something with this?

he reaches into the mud.

he has not seen mud in many years. the crown could not give him sight, even if he was a god. he could only sense its presense and know it was there.

now, without the crown, he could see nothing.

mud, he remembered, was brown. what was brown again?

it had been so long, he could not remember.

his muddy fingers scrape the paper, forming some sort of shape that he does not know.

what is he doing?

time time time later he still holds the paper. his hand is devoid of mud.

he does not know what is on it, whatever it may be.

i miss painting, he might think, if he could remember something so long ago.

on the paper is a perfectly drawn, muddy crown.

in the center is a triangular eye, stained green with grasses.

leshy leaves the paper outside to blow away in the hot nighttime breeze.

screaming

sometimes its because i see something lovely

sometimes its because i say something unfortunate

sometimes its because i hear something wonderful

sometimes its because i think something awful

most times its because i do something unspeakable

but of course, i cannot scream here.

there are words and words and words to say.

much better to waste words on kindly nonsense than wordless worldless words.

so in dreams i scream

i scream for my eyes my throat my ears my mind my hands

bloodstained with thoughts i brought into existence

hands bloodied by their my our own doing

all these things i've done

perhaps i will be the blood that stains another's hands

what a comforting thought

pet names? ha, no

me and my best friend have owner names

pet names are like "oh, youre my pet" (baby, honey, sweetie)

no! i call her "your excellency" and i am "your honor"

i think all the siblings of the old faith did art before their respective tragedies

leshy painted masterpieces. each of his siblings has a painting of themselves in their temples, and his followers sacrificed art pieces to him, before he lost his eye.

heket sang beautifully. she wrote songs for all her siblings, which are still played in their temples, and her followers always sang during sermons, before she lost her throat.

kallamar played any and all instruments. he orchestrated magificent pieces for all his siblings, which are played without knowledge of their background, his followers had to learn instruments for indoctrination before he lost his ears.

shamura wrote impossible riddles. they had one for each of their siblings, and only heket and narinder managed to figure out theirs, the others of which are still thought about today, and their followers sacrificed everything to them, begging for answers before they lost their mind and forgot the answers.

narinder whittled intricate designs. all his siblings had mini wooden versions of their crowns that they carried with them often before, his followers sacrificed and burned hardwoods for him before he was chained.

leshy can no longer paint.

heket can no longer sing.

kallamar can no longer play.

shamura can no longer remember.

narinder can no longer whittle.

they have stolen the others' abilities to create.

have they stolen the others' abilities to love?

after her throat was cut, did heket try to scream?

did she starve?

did she bleed?

after his eyes were taken, did leshy try to see?

did he cry?

did he bleed?

after his ears were taken, did kallamar try to hear?

did he strive?

did he fear?

after their mind was taken, did shamura try to shed a tear?

did they think?

did they fear?

five does not become four if they already were nothing.

I got you!

Insp by animation trends on tt and brainwashing ritual :)