It was strange. He made these maps of places that didn't even exist. And still don't. He'd stay in his room for hours, up to months, drawing painfully slow across aged paper. One time he let me watch. It was raining upside down that night. Bushes retracted back into the ground, birds swimming underwater. It was lovely... but while I silently admired this, his hand shivered with a carved pencil grasped between his fingers. He named this map "Grasha". It was his smallest map yet.
This place apparently had hillsides, with gorgeous light violet lakes and dark blue forests that housed creatures. I watched him. Bags under his eyes, his fingernails now long, and hair curling. I still enjoyed his company. He was a friend of mine, anyways. But as he gently made a new tree in his blue forest, a paper flew out his open window. I watched it, and wondered if it was important. Maybe it was a map. I didn't know. I opened the window wider, high up to where it met the ceiling, and it drifted into one of our birdbaths after I fully opened this window. Might I mention he made it himself out of Herrystone.
I personally thought of it as my favorite, but when he made it, and when he was barely making maps, he said he hated it. It was 'poorly done' he stated. I loved the way the bark of a tree grew on it, small and full black feathers rimming from the water in the bowl. It was gorgeous. But I still wondered why the paper lifted itself and left us. Did we offend it? But we've been silent. Did we abuse it? It was dusty from never being touched since last Yolemberun. It made no sense as to why the paper flew off. But now it chose to be with our nice birdbath bowl.
Maybe the bowl whispered sweet nothings to this paper in particular. There were more like it, though. But it left the stack of other papers for this bowl. Oh well, its choices. But I worried if he would get upset if that paper were a map he created.
I looked at him. He hasn't moved from his place other than his wrist gently bending to the right to fufill a rock near a root with beautiful brown and pink buds. Seems it didn't matter that this mysterious paper left him and his room. But I wanted to go outside. I wanted to see this paper. I would love to feel the rain hitting my elbows and under my feet between my toes and up. So I bid him a short warning that I was leaving, and he grunted ever so softly as a reply. I left his room, back into the rest of the house.
His room was stuffy. Lungs would have to work harder to breathe in there. The rest of our house: pristine and very crisp. There was always a faint smell of Fire Ragnunous, a sweet (spicy when not ripe, sugary when ripe and sour when older near its rotten stage) red root, in this house. It was welcoming. He personally loved it too. So I constantly kept a small plant of it in almost every room.
But as I walked through hallways, to our main door, the black bubbles and blobs creeped on my bare feet and ankles. They were showing signs of begging me not to leave. I had to turn down their plea. The paper was waiting and grinning mentally of me finding out what it was. A map. Document of life forms. Endless possibilities. So I bent down and gently picked them all up, their limbs wrapping affectionately around my fingers. Unfortunately, they would die in our upside down rain. It would simmer them into nothing but ash, quiet screams emitting from them even with no mouths.
So I carefully placed them in a Kofoger-Hammrela glass, its own shape holding them, and I was bidding them a sweet goodbye. They all purred and gurgled as a farewell to me in luck the paper would not drift away from our yard again. I opened the door and quietly closed it, watching the rain go up into the clouds. It was amazing watching the droplets shoot up. Today it was regular- not fast or slow. Though, last Gordaj it was skin piercingly fast.
I began to walk to the birdbath, its lovely wood and feathers beginning to point and shift towards me. It recognized me. I smiled, putting my hand out and the bark touched my longest finger. It really was such a loving and great birdbath. I then walked again, putting my hand in the water for a moment. It turned pink, a sign of adoration. I giggled softly. How sweet. I pulled my hand away and it turned back to clear, then felt the water on my hand go with the rain that fell up to the clouds.
My hand was completely dry, as I reached for this paper. It let me touch and hold it, and I flipped it over. Of course: the paper had a flower blooming on it. This truly was rare and was considered good luck. I held the paper and took it back with me to the house, opening the door once more and feeling the warm rush of Fire Ragnunous saying hello to my nostrils again. I held the paper and my pets welcomed me back with squeaks of joy: the black bubble blobs.
I took the cup again wih my pets in it, holding both items in my hands. Back to his room. I need to show him the flower on this paper. I rushed up the stairs, my feet beating on the steps. He heard me, I could tell.
I opened his door, and there he... wasn't. This was terrible timing, I thought. He hasn't moved in ages! How could this happen! I shut his door with my foot angrily, rushing up the other stairs to the third floor, and now I heard the shower. Why would he need cleanliness now? He never wanted it before.
I then went to the door, it being slightly open. My pet blobs transformed together into a large hand, opening the door and seeing the shower running with him in the bath, letting it pour on is.. blond hair..? His hair was black! Maybe all the soot and dust in his room caused this. His shining eyes looked at me and he smiled brightly. What a handsome person I never met but had with me this whole time.
I gently placed down the cup, my pets making a sad growl, holding the paper. But it slipped from my fingers and flew once again, landing in the tub with him. He softly chuckled and held it, and it became dark and light blue sparks in the tub. Like glitter somehow... His bags under the eyes were now gone, lips full and eyelashes fine and beautiful. This seemed so odd but so amazing.
The glitter and sparks made shapes of trees, hillsides and rocks near roots forming too... It..
It was "Grasha"!
His blue forest was now real, and his now petite hands caressed the floor of this incredible forest. My mouth was gaping, and he looked at me and smiled. I couldn't believe this but I also could. The forest's dirt was falling in the tub, new sparks of pink like the flower's sizzling in the water.
His eyes closed, and he sighed contently as my eyes watched in disbelief.
"I told you, my maps and blue forests are real, dear."
