Stories, and then Some...

i met a disciple of Love who had the mountain breeze at the tips of his fingers. and everyday he sends it out to the lost and heartbroken to whispher words in a language of longing. but he tells me that sometimes it comes back to haunt him, becoming instead a caressing echo of his emptiness.

there was one who lived on top of a tall promontory where he can see the entire city unencumbered. he searches for the one being who can make him complete, but wished he was blind inside the bowels of the earth when he found out that she could no longer be his.

another was a force of Fire sitting on the face of a hill. around him were ashes and blackened remnants of his life. too fierce that his fire burned everything he touched. and in a fit of self-immolation, he has begun torching himself as well.

i once knew an element of Change who lived by the shore; her house was made up of things washed by the sea at her doorstep: driftwood, shells, bones, trash. she can be as placid as the summer sea, or as angry as the waves crashing in a tempest. one day she was carried away to a distant land never to be seen again. and her house was all that remained.

yet another tried to roam this city and its fringes to sate a hunger that has been eating at him for years. he has consumed Time, and the warmth of human bodies, leaving behind throbbing memories in the avenues, under fresh asphalt, on tire tracks and city grime, and the filth and refuse of this city regurgitates. and he does not stop, he cannot stop, as the more he consumes, the more he is aware of the void in him.

there was this lady who had the power to bring down a rain of tears that can wash away memories. and everyday people would be on their knees begging her to shed some for them. until one day, the rain became a trickle which ultimately stopped. she said her well of tears have dried up, and she slowly became a hard statue of a woman with two expressionless gems for eyes.

and the memories began piling up, becoming a lost mountain breeze, becoming blindness, becoming emptiness, becoming rage, becoming useless remnants of past lives, becoming a hunger that cannot be satisfied.