Four missed days of poetry = four haikus…

because they are easy to phone in.

Also, a piece of fiction. Just a piece. Unedited.


As it turns out, the princess’s room was a lot larger than what Chris had first walked into. There were at least two more doors in the back, behind pink curtains and drapes. Melody led them through hanging fabrics to a room she was more comfortable talking in. This was apparently a play area of sorts. It looked exactly what a girl back home would want for a princess themed room. Only instead of the pink bed, wardrobe, mirror, etc, the room was much more open, but with a ceiling that what was within eye sight. It still was very tall though, and Chris couldn’t help wondering, after seeing the “lightbrick” if maybe these ceilings were just tall in appearance; perhaps they were charmed that way, like Harry Potter or whatever. This new room, an official council chamber apparently, had a large circular table in the middle and then a plethora of toys and games. It really did seem to clash in regards to purpose. It looked as if Melody just kept every play thing she ever had, and dumped it in this room. Everything from play ponies to rattles, to dolls; there was even a tiny pink play castle in the corner of the room. But on the table there were hundreds, maybe thousands of official looking papers ranging from decrees and speeches to reports on exported and imported goods, letters from mayors, marriage announcements between minor royalty; the table was literally covered in stacks varying from an inch to a couple of feet. Was there not a single steward–out of the hundreds throughout the castle–that could deal with all this? Surely she had to have a some royal secretary of sorts. As Melody approached the table, she murmured something under her breath, and flicked a hand. Every single piece of paper flew up and created a tornado of documents. Chris hadn’t noticed it before, but, while the walls in this room weren’t as tall as every other, they were covered, after about five feet from the ground, in shelves. The paper storm dispersed by creating lanes in the air, routes to the various areas among the wall-shelves. “Oh right,” Chris thought. Magic. That’s how she does it.

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