[MoMoYA]

Mark

[spookypuff]

BIG FREAKING MARK

[Bloth Hoondr]

Brookmire
1951 words

"We chase after ghosts and spirits and are left holding only memories and dreams.
It's not that we want what we can't have;
it's that we've held all we could want and then had to watch it slip away."
CHARLES DE LINT, Moonlight & Vines

I hear them sometimes, distorted voices penetrating the mire. Be they demons or angels I have long since ceased to care. I think… I remember them. Yes, long ago when the moonlight bathed the basin in her ethereal glow, when the surface children shrieked with joy to play in these waters. It seems like so long ago, how long has it been? I cannot move, each miniscule motion seems to weigh more than the darkness consuming me. How lowly I have become.

There are some days where I welcome the blackness, for I have long become weary of the weight of the sun and the thought of seeing my reflection, a reflection of my home, would be too painful for me to bear. Thus I sleep and I drift and I dream. Forever trapped and lost within my memories, they are a haven for which this wretched body may find solace. However, the weary can never truly find rest for my memories plague my mind of all that I had and all that has come to pass. Is it better to lose myself in the delusion of better times than acknowledge the current state in which I suffer?

The goddess had truly blessed my home with her beauty, and myself by association. O how I bathed in the dapples of sunlight and grew the basin into something otherworldly. I danced in the moonlight and sang to the stars. I was unafraid of the creatures in the overworld for they were entranced by my grace and the hearts of the dwellers were unmarred. They gave me many names, more reverent than I deserved for I was at the mercy of the world just as they were. I loved each and every one of them, and the surfacers loved me in return.
My crystalline waters were the keepers of many secrets, yet now only the faintest tendrils of what they were ghost along the edges of my memory. Young maidens came to me to share their heart’s burdens. Often to confess their love for a friend, to shed a tear at the hardships of life, or to seek my blessings as if a mere glimpse of my form gave them courage. Though I could do nothing, I pray I gave them courage.
Perhaps it was the water and the love attached to the gifts that gave me my color, the purity of their intentions soaking into my being and flourishing.

There was nothing to fear in the memories of old, only envy. I remember as the children toyed with my hair. Plaits, braids, tails of many styles were tied and washed away in the ripples of time. I loved the bows, each as different as the surfacers themselves; the silks were my favorite. I was light with happiness as my waters were, for my lake was truly a heaven upon this earth.

As time passes, and the world changes, so too do the hearts of others.

Years passed, like ripples upon the surface and the age of wonder had come to end. Long gone were the curious children and the downtrodden. No more would the young ones tell their tales to my waters and find beauty in the quiet of my home. My names merely whispered upon the winds as a creature of myth. I gaze upon the overworld once in an age, the paths worn by its predecessors were once again given to nature. I find a gift from time to time, a ribbon left by those who still remember, or a treat by those desperate for something to believe. Nonetheless I sing my praise to the night, so that she may deliver it safely. Perhaps my cries were heard or the old ones believed for my domain was visited once more, yet my home would never be the same. The names given to me were changed once more to fit with the passing time, to become what they needed to hear.

The air was tainted with traces of a smoke most foul and flashes of light that screamed like lightning filled the night. I was scared for them. I was scared for myself. Armies of surfacers would come and go, my waters used for their needs. Orbs of steel began to litter my home and I cried in fear, retreating to the darkest depths as the thunder roared above me.

The first bodies came with no one to claim them. The lightning brought pain, and the red meant death. Time came to a grueling standstill and the battles raged above. The wounded were saved, and those who could not were given my burial. These precious creatures whose souls were lost to my domain, whose ancestors played in my waters, how could I turn them away? The lakebed became their graves and my flora their guiding light.

The peaceful surfacers came once more, once again finding truth in the legends. The tears that fell were no longer soothed by a song or my presence but I tasted their sorrow and heartbreak. My love knew no sides, all who were lost were welcome, and countless families brought them to me for their final resting place. As I wrapped them in my arms and made my decent to the bottom, I saw my reflection in the surface. Light pinks and blues dulled into reds and silvers. No longer were my waters pure, nor would they ever be again. My home was scarred from battles I did not ask to be a part of, yet I was swept in their current nonetheless. My heart wept for what was lost, and what I had yet to lose.

As time passes, and the myths forgotten, so too is the humanity in others.

Time slips away yet again and I remember tending to the fallen. Countless decades had passed since the last souls were entrusted to me and I kept them safe at any cost from those with enough hate in their hearts to disturb their slumber. I fear returning to the surface. For when I do flashes of battle, of those pain-stricken faces and tears of the mournful fill my senses and I retreat back to the dark, back to where the glow of my gardens fills me with calm. There was no place for me in the world above.

Yet, far from the light of the surface, I knew I was changing still. I felt myself growing slow, as if the worries of my mind weighed me down, and swimming beyond my cove became a chore. I slunk and scraped at the bottom of the lake, gathering the strange glitters and muck that had found their way into the depths. I felt myself grow lighter as I offered these to the surface yet for every piece I gave back, more seemed to have littered my home tenfold. I felt my heart grow cold; how could my help be repaid with this? I gave the surfacers my mind, my heart, my voice, and my love and yet with each passing day I find myself falling further, sinking back down into the depths.

The roar of the steel birds marks the passing of days and my efforts seem futile. Is there nothing I could do? Are all my efforts for naught? What is the point of even trying? Are the creatures I’ve loved for so long going to be my end? Each day I find it harder to find the motivation to clear my waters and each day I find it harder to breathe. Until at long last I could not. The fear gripped me at my core as I felt something alight within me. I would not let this be the end of me. Each swipe of my tail propelled me further yet I felt trapped. My lungs were filled with tar and my eyes stung with the toxicity until I broke the surface, gasping for a breath of fresh…anything. Yet no relief came.

In the distance I saw the metal chariots leave, and in their wake were silver barrels floating along the surface. Their contents spilling into my home. I tried to swim but I could not, the poison dripping from my form like molasses, prohibiting my movements until I grew tired and let the water take me yet again. I felt like death, yet I knew I would not die. No light came and no light ever will. No surfacers to right the wrong they committed, no surfacers to hear my cries. I was cast into despair and there, here, I remained. Alone. Mutated. A monster. How I longed for the days of old.


The current state of my waters, if they could be called that, seem hopeless, an impenetrable cloud of inky black and purple that sits in stasis, trapping my hopes and dreams beneath it. I lay awake and remember, but what good can memories do but remind you of what you once had? I crawled along the floor once more, inching my way closer to the surface, closer to my fears. As the sun illuminated the mire, it seemed almost beautiful, and sometimes I get lost in its cruel beauty, wanting to sink back down again.
But not today. Today, something unexpected happened.

A hand, old and gnarled, skimming the surface with some resistance. In a fit of desperation, I reached out to it, a feeling so strong in my gut it made me ill. Hope, this is what hope felt like. However, reality came crashing down, icy tendrils encompassing my heart once more as the hand quickly retreated. Yet, before I could let myself get lost in the sensation, it reached for me again, and pulled me up. I had long since lost the energy to resist.

A weathered surfacer with wrinkles like canyons and a smile like the sun, calling me by a name I hadn’t heard in ages; The Lady of Brookmire. I was scared and confused. As I looked at our connection I began to weep, how could this pure soul allow herself to be tainted by my likeness? But she shook her head at my feeble attempt to pull away. Yet I could feel her heart, she wanted to help. How is that possible? Is my home not too far gone, left in an irreparable state I could not hope to fight against?

Her eyes were kind as she outstretched another hand to card though the sludge that had become my hair and I fell into it. Her hands were so warm, and my cries grew louder at the first touch of kindness in so long. Lost was I to my memories yet again, to the warm summers spent on the shore as the children spoke stories and tied my hair. “It will take time” she spoke to me. “So much time, but there is hope.” I could not let her do the work by herself. She made me promise to meet here again and I agreed, if only to be held once more.

For the first time in a long time, I feel hope towards my waters instead of desolation. I look out across the surface and see the possibilities of what I once had and what I could have once more. Perhaps with enough time and effort, someday, the water will be pure again. Someday, I will be whole.

As time passes, and the waters heal, so too do the lives of many.

_________________________________________

There's quite a lot I've done to help the environment recently, more so now than ever before! Growing up, my family made recycling seem like a fun thing to do and it stuck with me throughout the years. When I was saving up for a trip to europe, I recycled enough to pay for almost a third of my trip, gaining a little more than $3,000 in less than a year. While I did it to gain money, my dedication sparked a lot of change in certain sections of the community I lived in, primarily the yearly Relay for Life wanted me to head a recycling campaign and though I was not in a position to commit wholeheartedly at the time, they nonetheless began to recycle at our local walks over the coming years.

Sometimes I become to sentimental over certain belongings, but having to move out of my home made me more aware of how much stuff I didn't actually need. Sure I kept some clothes from the many plays or concerts ive attended but now, living in the area I do now, I feel good about how much I was able to donate. I have lots of family in places that aren't as well off as I am so I always make it a habit to send them as much clothes, toys, books, etc as I can before giving the rest to charities or other donations around town.

As I mentioned before, I moved recently and I now live in what has to be the greenest part of my state, both literally and environmentally. Still keeping in mind the three R's, reduce reuse and recycle, theres so much our local community does that just blows me away. I was always an avid lookout on what gets recycled and what doesn't but the local university lets all of the incoming students what specifically goes where in a one hour seminar. Oh, and save for the 3 chains that were grandfathered in, there are absolutely no corporations or corporate franchises allowed within city limits. A lot of restaurants and grocery stores as well as the campus have a system of reusable to-go boxes called OZZI where we pay once for a token and from there on, use this to go box to get our food, and so long as we return it cleaned to a cashier or OZZI station, we get our token back and saves so much on not having to constantly hand out paper or plastic to-go boxes.

Every farmers market, and avy event we host at our plaza is spearheaded by our Zero Waste campaign, meaning each trash station has a person overseeing it and every stall abides by the zero waste rules. If we offer drinks, we use reuseable mugs patrons can keep after the fair, we use recyclable plates with bamboo utensils, and all food- related products go into the compost section that's donated to local farms at the end of the day. It's a very rainy area so no need to have any sprinkler systems other than on the university campus and the main plaza. I've been eating a lot healthier too as almost everything is local or organic. When it's fishing season, everyone abides by strict rules as to not overfish and cause harm to the environment, the local tribes fish first and if enough fish are left, the public can fish a certain ammount.

Not only on that front but so much more is done within the community itself. Every time a new batch of students come to the university at the beginning of the semester, a community pot-luck is hosted and it's a huge event. Townspeople and students are all welcome and on one half, it's dedicated to the community bringing in an array of things for the students to take if they need it. Anything from blankets, towels, toiletries, soaps, furniture, cookware, books, clothes, you name it someone brought it. The other half is dedicated to food where anyone can come in and eat or take food to go and share their recipes for the next generation to learn. Another section for rooms and houses for rent as well as local job opportunities, and so far I haven't missed one of these yet. It just goes to show that recycling isn't always just about bottles and cans.

There's so much I've done to help the environment and continue to do so, and though this is a lot more broad, community-driven things, perhaps in a lot of places where there arent many programs like this, it can be a start!

[carpe noctem.]

mARKING

[König]

m a r k

[AuroWander]

marwgh

[Lady Tuesday]

Markkkkkk oh GOd
Tuesday

[Ember the Wolf]

mark

[Firedancer77]

my gosh mark - Firedancer77

[Calibri]

Mmmark :thonk: