Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
The way the world had been working lately made the young Caretaker breeze through long, winding streets. Past stone pillars. Past tall columns of buildings she’d peered at again and again. Past towering, colossal things, and onto the Collegium – here for the sole purpose of getting to the bottom of the recent influx of vampire gourds.
She couldn’t recall a time it’d been in such an array – from what she’d known and learnt, they’d kept to themselves within the Grounds. But based on recent reports, they were everywhere; some small, some massive, some all-encompassing. So what had altered? What had changed?
Perhaps if she was lucky, the library would hold some information. Peering amongst and amidst the shelves, the woman made a beeline for familiarity in the creature section, intending to search a row of spines and titles for more clues, more context.
And Lena would’ve persisted, had she not heard a quiet rumbling around the corner – moving her head and looking downward to see the aforementioned subject, nibbling on some fallen tome. “Oh dear, not here too,” she murmured to herself, bending downward and attempting to sneak the marred book out of its fangs, ignoring the way it grumbled, hissed, and wheezed.
She couldn’t recall a time it’d been in such an array – from what she’d known and learnt, they’d kept to themselves within the Grounds. But based on recent reports, they were everywhere; some small, some massive, some all-encompassing. So what had altered? What had changed?
Perhaps if she was lucky, the library would hold some information. Peering amongst and amidst the shelves, the woman made a beeline for familiarity in the creature section, intending to search a row of spines and titles for more clues, more context.
And Lena would’ve persisted, had she not heard a quiet rumbling around the corner – moving her head and looking downward to see the aforementioned subject, nibbling on some fallen tome. “Oh dear, not here too,” she murmured to herself, bending downward and attempting to sneak the marred book out of its fangs, ignoring the way it grumbled, hissed, and wheezed.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
