Harmonious_Echos

It was a cold and restless night for Harmony, even with the exhaustion, Muse's warmth, and the forest's goodwill seeping into her bones. The crackling fire seemed to whisper into the darkness, and the small, hot form of Kyir on her chest made her painfully aware of how vulnerable they were... a few hours after her first sleep, she work with a moan, flinging off the weight of a horrible nightmare about ghouls coming out of the grave-cavern and tearing them apart. After that her eyes would not close so easily. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, and she found herself in need of relieving herself. She wrapped Kyir tightly in her cloak and managed to squat awkwardly behind a bush while hanging onto the babe with one arm and a tree branch with the other... not the most comfortable of positions, but it worked, and she hadn't soiled herself. She heaved her still-heavy body back up to standing and kicked some forest trash over it, then wobbled back to the fire. Muse was already there, a white were-cat with purple eyes, staring at the fire. When Harmony approached, she glanced up and sniffed a sigh. "what do we do now?" Harmony shook her head. "I don't know...Kyir needs real clothes, and shelter. We need a place for him. A village, or something." Muse stood up cat-like, stretching out to nearly three times her seated length, then arching her back, and then finally standing. She turned her gaze eastward, where a glimmer of sun could be seen staining the sky pink and gold. "A village is there." Harmony looked; a faint black outline of mountain, trees, and other shapes--man-made shapes--stood black against the far horizon. "That's a least a day's travel by horseback, Muse... We can't walk that!" Muse grinned a cat's grin "have you forgotten ME so soon?" She lept into the air, and came down a white war-horse with a beautiful, flowing mane and tail. Harmony smiled in admiration and appreciation. "I guess I did forget. That's a nice one, you should use it more often!" Then lifting her wand, Harmony flicked water from the creek onto the campfire until it was out, and even the ashes flowed away into the grass. Muse laid down to let her mount, and soon was cantering tirelessly across the ground, hooves missing rocks and branches in a way that would never be possible without magic... Trail-less terrain that would've taken a normal horse a day, or even two, took Harmony and Muse less than a day to cross. Soon the shapes that were seen by early morning's light became wooden buildings, rugged but sturdy, a group of about 10 in all, surrounded by a high stone wall and a guarded gate. On the far side of the wall, it thickened and stretched upwards into a small stone castle, simple and sturdy like the houses below. From the mountain-side, Harmony could see directly into the town itself. Dogs barked and chickens pecked on the ground; a few fruit trees grew beside houses, and small gardens dotted the spaces between. On the gate-side, the wall opened up to a wider space where a few market stands stood, and on a raised platform a bard in a wild costume waved his arms and some kind of instrument, telling news of other lands for a mixed group of children and adults. Beyond the market-space, a second lower wall separated the castle from the town & protected a large, low building where a furnace was obviously burning, from the large smoke-stack that was billowing smoke. Harmony smiled. The place reminded her of a great stone mother hen, hovering over her chicks. It felt warm and quiet and safe, and Harmony ached with the hope that she could find a place there. She knew it might be too much to ask.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words. What words would you use for this one? I feel like there's definitely a story here.

I think we could totally world-build a cooperative writer's group game, not necessarily actual D&D but we can definitely use the characters or design it along similar lines? For example; my family like to play & I, although I have never played, greatly enjoy listening to them talk about their campaigns back & forth and laughing about the stuff they did. Taking it 1 steep further we could just have our own no-rules campaign with a bunch of Pennites, jumping in to play whomever or whatever character we "are"... it definitely would be a lot like Death of the Mighty Pen or other threads here I say let's do it I mean I'm already a Muse, might as well continue flitting around obnoxiously chitttering at people until they talk back 🤣

(munches popcorn) Wow!! I love this character-building. It's funny to me that although I have ZERO history I'm still pretty much following this, it's very scifi but I would love to see more.

Thoughts on a platter, sounds like me A little bit rhymed and clunky, a little bit short and chunky, a little bit out of the water now-- splattering thoughts like drops from the clouds. Thanks for freeing this rainbow-- these shattered bits from a day's life wrapped in a scarf of expressions, shone through by an inspiration's light. ❤️

Oi! Sir, If you would PLEASE My wings are fine and full of breeze, Not stapled thus, or glued, but magic'd on by author's art. (Athough at times, they smart!) I'm here to fan this flow, paddle the wind, Make the drafts blow Shake the cobwebs from the corners of this Pen and start again-- Sending fairy-frog-dust-glitter out and bringing PEOPLE in. ❤️

interesting..... I wonder what would make a 6 inch warrior turn into a giant? ...A Muse, perhaps? 🙃😆 Lovely to see you on the Pen.

Snypiuer Bard 591 Location:Over here. NO! Over HEERRRE!! Posted August 2 O.K., I'll probably, eventually, send out a bulk email about this, but if you're one of the few that lurk, this will give you a head start if you're interested in it. I have a problem. *Ha-ha, I know, "You can stop there Snypiuer!" reaalll funny😒* ANYWAYS, I have this concept for . . . something. Not sure if it's a poem or a story, how long it is, genre, etc. just the seed of an unknown flower. What I need is others to grow it and see what they come up with. So here it is: "A small child finds a box under its bed that wasn't there before." That's it. I have NO idea ANYTHING else: Where it goes. Is the child alone. Is it day or night. How big the box is. How old the child is. Is the child curious or afraid. I can't come up with ANYTHING beyond the nascency of what it can be. So, if you've been wanting to write something for a while, let's see what you can come up with! I have a LOT of these seeds, so I may make a section for them. Let me know what you think. (Harmony could not reply to the post "help!" So I am starting another to see if this one is better) How about-- A small human child finds a box under her bed that wasn't there before. She puts a shoe into the box thinking it is a shoebox. That night she dreams an amazing dream about shoes and hotels and fairies and wakes up, writes it down, and turns it in as an english project for school. She gets an A, and her teacher commends her for her creativity. Curious about the origin/connection of the box to the dream, she tries experiments; puts food in, dreams of a feast and a great festival, and dances the night away in a medieval castle with an elven prince. She puts in a toy car, and dreams of a racetrack and for one night is the star of NASCAR. She puts in a feather, and dreams of a great phoenix who carries her above the clouds. She starts experimenting further. One night she puts in a paper with her best friend's name on it, and a peppermint candy. The next day her friend comes to school raving about this dream she had about a Peppermint Planet that was so real she could just taste it. Then she tries something more dangerous--she puts in a paper with her bully's name, and a Grimace toy she got from McDonald's. Her bully says nothing, but when she mentions going to see Grimace at McDonald's, the bully flinches and looks ill, and then leaves her alone... The girl is thrilled at this newfound power and spends the next day wondering how she'll use it next. She makes a list of people she'll send dreams to and how she wants to use the dreams... She gets home and finds the box gone. Heartbroken, she hunts all around her home and finally goes to bed without it. She knows she can't ask her parents about it without revealing why she wants a plain little cardboard box so badly. Unbeknownst to her, her mother cleaned her room that day & found the box, and thinking it was a nice size & shape for storing things, had stashed it under her own bed...full of her mother's "personal toys", and a tiny, labeled glass jar of the girl's baby teeth.... (that's all I've got but I think the rest writes itself, don't you?) 😐 😅

What would YOU do? I know what I'd do I'd prank my dear Papa with condiments in his shoes I'd laugh like a llama with my face to the flue I'd eat lima beans--they taste JUST like glue-- that's what I'd do How about you? How would YOU wish? I know what I'd wish I'd catch my dear Mama a sackful of fish I'd repair my heirloom deviled-egg dish, I'd make all my worries and bank-loans vanish that's what I'd wish How about you? How would you fight? I know how I'd fight I'd whisper the war-cry in the dead of night I'd tickle my daughter to hear her laugh bright-- I'd paint rainbow bubbles under every street-light that's how I'd fight How about you?

It's just MUSE. In hedgehog form, rolling across the floor, looking for these so-called suicide squirrels 'cos I've half a mind to give them a good thwack, suicide is no way for any decent squirrel warrior to meet their end... hmph! 3 AM is the perfect time for hedgehogs and dragons and frogs with wings and other such things. Also pizza. There's never a bad time for pizza. *offers Snypiuer a slice*

Harmony's legs began to shudder almost immediately at the strain of standing up, and black dots danced before her eyes as her blood pressure dipped sharply. She sank back against the tree trunk for several moments, struggling to hold onto the baby. Trying to distract herself, she studied him in the dim light. He had a fuzz of pale hair, large, almond-shaped blue-black eyes....ten fingers, ten toes... so tiny and fragile. His fingers wrapped around her thumb and tugged it towards his mouth, and he blinked at her sleepily. Muse bumped her rabbit's head against her leg. "what should we call him?" she asked. Harmony stared at her, at the white fur scuffed with Harmony's blood, black against the fire-light which turned the white fur flame-colored. A name rose unbidden to her lips, as if it had been waiting all along. "Kyirtana....yes. I'll call him Kyirtana. Kyir for short." Muse rolled over, transforming into a milk-white snake, and shed her skin, leaving the blood and waste on it; the "skin" shimmered and then vanished. Muse stood, then, for once taking the form of another human being, a milk-white mirror image of Harmony herself. She reached out carefully for the baby, offering a tiny white blanket. Harmony smiled, exhausted, and handed Kyir to Muse. Carefully, then, she lifted off the tunic, lowered herself to the ground beside the stream, and washed herself, as best she could. The water was cold, but not icy. She watched as it turned red, and scrubbed off any blood that had dried onto her. There would be more, she knew, but this would help. Then she remembered the wand; was it still beside the fire? She glanced at Muse; Muse had turned 1 hand into a wash cloth & was carefuly bathing Kyir's face; Kyir was studying hers as if memorizing it. He still had not made a sound. Harmony knew that was odd, for an infant, but right now she was only grateful. Too many things responded to an infant's cry, on a dark night, and she was not prepared to fight after such an ordeal. The wand lay in the grass beside the fire, and Harmony found it after a few moments of careful searching. Lifting it, she reached into her reserves. She didn't have a lot to spend, just now... but the mountain and the forest were replenishing her, even now. A good night's sleep would have her magic at full strength again. She ran the wand across her skin, and tapped the tunic; it vanished, and another garment appeared, similar, but clean--and longer, narrower. This one Harmony slid on, and tied at the waist, forming a simple dress with an attached cloak. Muse's purple eyes looked reproachfully at her as she took Kyir back, but she said nothing except "keep him warm.." Muse herself became a massive white bear, and laid down facing the forest, back to the fire. Harmony and Kyir snuggled in on the fire-side of Muse, and soon fell asleep. It had been a long night.

**(Harmony acknowledges Snypiuer with a cheeky, tired grin) It's been too long. Yes. I finally reached a point where I was able to put pen to page again (digitally) and find my voice. And I put my poems into print, too... but that's another story... Now, back to this one!

Hmm...maybe you're threatening the time threads too much! Time can only bear so much flux! (and squirrel squads)

I love this... ❤️

Muse chuckled and flung sparks in the fire, digging through the hot campfire coals like a sooty, purple-eyed chipmunk. The sun was beginning to set before Harmony was able to clean and cook the fish; it made a mess, but she was so hungry she didn't mind the smell or the sticky feel it left on her fingers. What she minded was the fact that it was getting dark, and she was alone with Muse, on an open hillside, and the waves of pain were getting stronger. They came and went more slowly than before, but now they lasted longer, too. The last one had left Harmony shuddering, leaning against a tree trunk for support. She'd nearly fallen into the creek while trying to get herself a drink; she was so top-heavy that she couldn't balance, even when she lowered herself to her hands and knees. It felt so strange to her, that her body was like this. It almost didn't feel real. She watched Muse in a daze, hunger finally sated, and felt weariness threatening to overtake her. Muse, she thought, Make sure nothing bothers us while I sleep, ok? Muse sat up in the middle of the fire and gave a tiny salute. Harmony knew she'd watch over her...she really didn't even need to ask. It just felt polite to. After all, Muse was almost like a person... A very odd, small, constantly shapeshifting person.... Harmony's eyes fluttered closed, and she slept, lulled by the soft snapping of the campfire and the overbearing weariness of her long day. Slept, and dreamed.... ....a pale blue light...a pale presence, colorless, and somehow, movement that was stillness in itself. A sharp gasp, but not her own... a sensation, and a wetness... of being pushed, bodily...pushed into, by another body, over and over... yet Harmony felt calm, detached...cold, and free from fear. Her skin felt sticky and loose, and she couldn't move. A part of her mind wondered, am I dead? And still the pushing continued...then, a suddenly as it started, the sensation withdrew; as did the light, fading palely away, leaving nothing but a deep greyness. Suddenly there were bright lights, blasts of rainbow color, popping, soundless explosions in front of her face, in every shade and color...and a feeling of being shocked, unbearable. Burning, burning, hot hot HOT, ah, OUCH! Harmony woke with a gasp. The pain had returned, taking her breath, making her hiss with the force and depth of it. The curling sensation was replaced now with a rippling, rolling like a wave of boiling lava, pouring over her from head to toes, over, and over. She couldn't breathe. I'm dying! she thought. Muse's thought reached her like a breath of cool air, sucking away a bit of the pain. You're having a baby. Harmony suddenly felt nauseated, and in an extreme effort, rolled herself on her side. The scent of grass and earth wafted up at her and she realized, this must be what every mother goes through at some point... feeling helpless, knowing the pain has completely taken control. She shuddered and gasped, then forced herself to think only about taking another breath, releasing her mind from her body, giving up control. That's it, Muse's thought came softly, Just let it go. Your body knows what to do. I CAN'T! Harmony screamed in her mind, It's tearing me apart! The ripples of heat and pain became a sensation of pressure, a grinding, deep in her hips, making her spread her legs involuntarily. The pressure became an object, a smooth, roundness, and Harmony felt with her shaking fingertips the heat of her own blood, smelled the sourness of her body, and the overwhelming urge to be free of the object causing her so much pain, to force it out of herself. Gathering as deep a breath as she could muster, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned into it, pushing outward and down, as hard as she could bear.... And the pressure released. The object slid forward with the force of her push, slid out between her legs, pale and bloody and wrinkled. For a split second Harmony thought it was her own guts, then realized it was a baby. Of course it was. The tiny thing startled at the cool grass on its skin and shuddered, gasping. Muse, now in the form of a white rabbit, crept forward and nudged it with a soft nose. welcome to the world, little one, Harmony heard. She forced herself to breathe out, her previous breath trapped in lungs accustomed to a heavier weight holding them down... Blowing out, she felt a relief as the pain ebbed and nearly vanished, and a different wave crashed over her; emotions, all at once, in a thundering herd of anger, joy, fear, relief, and a new sensation--care. She reached forward and lifted the slippery, sticky baby, who opened dark eyes, softly blinking at her. She wrapped it in the front of her tunic, the loose fabric allowing plenty of room for them both. She was glad that she'd fallen asleep without thinking; if she had known the tunic was bunched up around her waist during her sleep, she'd have pulled it down to cover herself, and it would have been soiled when she gave birth... She lifted herself awkwardly, shoving them both up and back, away from the debris and blood on the ground where she had laid. Then carefully, she sat up. A gurgling sound came from her and she quickly lifted the tunic away, as a rush of blood--and the placenta, with the baby's cord--came blobbing out, gleaming redly in the firelight. Harmony sighed. Giving birth was such a messy business. She knew she had to take care of it immediately, though, because the scent of birth would draw all sorts of things... So she rolled over to her knees, then carefully lifted herself and the baby. She reached out to Muse, who immediately lept into her hand as a gleaming bone knife. Harmony smiled and quickly, before she could think about it too much, she looped the baby's cord around her fingers and pulled the knife's edge through. Then, freed, she stood and kicked dirt over the mess, and cradled the baby in her arms for a better look. Look, Muse, she thought, It's a boy.

The light broke over Harmony's face like a warm caress...she had not realized how deeply she missed the sun. Maybe it was the length of her stay under ground? Maybe it was the circumstances of her burial, which were still a fog? Maybe it was Muse, who lept at the crack of light and swarmed through it, leaving her alone, for once...seconds later, a quick 'tapping' rang out as the edges of the door burst inward, some invisible seal breaking, and loosing gusts of dust which spurted at Harmony's face. Slowly she reached out and grasped the handle, a simple curve of metal set in the heavy wood. "PUSH, Muse!" she thought, and pulled, leaning back, using her newfound weight. Slowly the door swung inward, til it stood open, and Harmony tumbled forward through it, laughing and gasping. She shaded her eyes as they adjusted to the bright golden light. Muse was skipping around in miniature fawn form, head-butting tree trunks...tree trunks! And grass! A blue sky opened its soaring chasm above her, and the sunlight sparked and glittered off dew-drops on a long, sloping hillside which spread on two sides. Between the hills, almost directly in front of her, Harmony saw a dimple of a valley, with a tiny brown creek winding down the center. It found its beginnings at the side of the rock-wall face through which she herself had just passed. Harmony left Muse to her rejoicing and studied the wall. It wasn't that high--only a few feet of wall appeared above the door, before disappearing under a thick cover of ivy, and then more grassy hillside, which rose above that. Further up, Harmony saw craggy slopes and snow-capped cliffs. It appeared the entire burial maze was beneath a mountain. No wonder it had been dark...and oddly magical. Harmony started for a moment at the stream, rippling merrily out of a hole in the solid rock beside the door; where did the water come from? There had been no trace of water within, only a moldering dampness. Yet here it was. Muse stopped head-butting trees and chose to jump in the water instead, splashing drops everywhere, bending down to scoop handfuls and fling them; laughing squeakily, she came up with a fish and hurled it at Harmony. Harmony pinned it on the grass with her foot, and grabbling a few sticks, she clicked her fingers to start a fire. It would be nice to eat something real.

Perhaps not time, then, but age? Age is the reason I cannot pass unscathed...because most things I touch, age as I pass..I wish it were not so! To age in an instant truly is a breaking of time's concepts, but then, all concepts are merely one point on the circle of theoretical advance... wheels turning, gathering dust, until we all shudder under the weight and shake ourselves free of it. And write a poem, instead.

As one such intersection, I would have to agree...the Pen is yet another. For myself,it is just, nice, to have a decent conversation without bending time around one's self and accidentally breaking things. Time is awkward and unmanageable. Some bits are gaspingly short, and bright, and hard as diamonds, polished to shine forever in their places; others quiet, and slow, yet quickly, silently pass us by like ships in the night. Many years have passed since I have spoken on the Pen. And I will be back again...

Fairy dust upon the wind, Khione's glitter shaken from above; She crafts her icy magic With a fierce, artistic hand. Next line: A melancholy plum

Hmm...Harmony wonders if this is referring to all the long time writers on this forum who have vanished for years at a time? (Looks around sheepishly) my apologies for the lateness. Glad to finally be back where Muse shines and quills are never dull...

Harmony stood wondering what to do next; but the lure of a door was too much to resist. She stood for several minutes, listening to the sound of the retreating mech, before following Muse's nose down the dimly lit, grimy hallway. Carefully, she stayed to the center of the hall. The dust and muck once again obscured the tiles, but she assumed the green path would follow same as the previous hall. Reaching the dead end, Harmony saw that the decoration, as Muse had called it, was nothing more than a tattered tapestry of green leaves, obviously hand-sewn, obviously old. The edges crumbled when Muse bounded up and sniffed at it. Harmony waved her aside, impatient to see what lay behind it. At that moment, Harmony was struck by a singularly curious sensation; an almost falling, dizzying rolling sensation, followed by a shock of extraordinary pain. She gasped as her muscles tightened against her will, and her body lurched against the tapestry, sliding down to rest on the wall. Muse flashed into a small Fire-sprite, hovering next to her with a worried expression: she could feel the pain, too, but couldn't understand it. This was no magic, no wound. The moment passed, and the sensation eased. Looking down at herself, at her body, Harmony realized that her stomach muscles were tight as steel bands, and beneath that, it felt like her body was curled in on itself. A few minutes more, and Harmony was able to hoist herself back to her feet. Heavily, she reached up to brush away the hanging tapestry. It fell to the floor in rags; behind it, a heavy metal door frame was filled with a hard, solid wooden door. One single hole at the top of the frame blazed with light, warm and golden; sunlight! Harmony's eyes filled with sudden tears. A door to the outside!!

sacrificial maidens in search of evil find what they seek (or does it find them?) armed and cloaked in deepest black, they march to the place of ritual with scowls of deep concentration. Arriving, they circle the altar stone, close their eyes, and count to ten; then, squealing, they chase each other with magic death wands till all have been solidly thumped on the head, and run off to tell Mommy that the others aren't playing fair. The song of slavery haunts these halls

pizza and poems peace falls on the evening all's well with the world

Gnarled and tall, lonely stands the fire-cherry tree; alone it lives amongst the lava flows. No other bears fruit so sweet, or blossom so divine; and none shall see nor taste its fruit til firey rivers wane-- nor taste them then, for fire flows in this great monarch's veins when lava cools, the cherries turn to stone-- and sweetest flower, into rosy quartz.