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Bloom Chapter 5 Putata sat in front of the fireplace with his sketchpad and small paint brush in hand. He scribbled with quick and sketchy strokes along the paper. As much as he'd rather be outside playing with Nyororo and/or go graffiti some buildings, neither him nor Mekeke liked the idea of getting frozen in a snow storm. The Puppeteer sat back to back with the artist while testing out the strings to his new puppet.
"Yo, Mekeke." Putata said without looking up from his sketching. "When do you think the snow will stop and we can go play?"
Mekeke shrugged. "Not sure. The weather reporters say it probably won't let up for a while."
The light haired keronian laughed. "Yeah, and they said that it wouldn't start snowing for a couple days," He shook trying to contain his laughter. "And that was yesterday!" Mekeke sat in silence as Putata let loose another burst of laughter. "Someone needs to fire those guys and
Bloom Chapter 4 Yukiki, who had been sleeping seated on the stool, woke with a start. The stool, old and over the years eaten by termites, shook and broke under the snowman's weight. Yukiki fell backwards and landed on his back. He opened his eyes and squinted as sunlight filtered in through the window blinds revealing the dust that was rose from the floor boards after his fall.
Just a dream. Yukiki sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The dream was rather vague and he could barely remember some parts of it. Even despite that, something about it gave him and uneasy feeling. But it wouldn't help him to dwell on it, so he didn't. Instead he picked himself up, brushing the dust off, and examining the damage done to the stool. One of the legs had broken off and was beyond hope of repair. He redirected his attention to the piano. With proper lighting, the condition of the piano was easier to make out. Compared to the stool, the piano was s
LithiumA single trickling rain drop
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
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