September 2, 2014 - 6:07pm — Below
As the cold season drew near, I found that I had more time to think to myself than when I was alone before. I thought about the day I discovered the Nina Isi, and the day the Glitch and I met. They were both shaped similar to me, but were not anything like me. My kind. . .where were they? Would I ever find them?
Would I ever find the golden one?
I pondered for days at a time and stayed in the same hole, only leaving it to find food and to empty my bladder. Although I had found other creatures who had taken a fondness of me and I in them, there was still an underlying, lingering feeling of dolor.
A few times the Nina Isi would lope up to the hole I dug, bend his hot head down and peer in at me inquisitively. Every now and then I would give him a smile, and each time he left a round little stone at the entrance of my hole.
Often, when I was alone in the long days before I had found anyone, I would talk just to hear the sound of my own voice. A voice which, despite being my own, had kept me company and given me solace when I wandered the lonely forests and seas of sand all by myself. A voice which said it would never give up on finding the golden one, even if it would be the last thing I ever did.
Now I wonder, what happened to that voice?
It was fading, trying to be heard over mixed emotions and other priorities that attempted to put themselves in front of it.
I knew that I was no longer a small, simple creature who struggled to survive alone, left behind by some towering, aureate guardian.
The sadness began to deepen, putting down roots. The seed had been planted a long time ago. Many times I had planned to get rid of it. But as time wore on, doubt and hopelessness seeped through the cracks. Sometimes I even speculated that day to be just a forgotten, fuzzy memory, replaced with that which I thought had really happened so that I could just have an excuse to look for something.
My face leaked continually throughout the days, and the best I could do to dry it was to turn and rub my wet cheeks into splotched, dirty fur.
Thinking about the golden one made me wonder about where I had come from.
I did remember waking up in a dark hole. But then again, the golden one had found me.
Who was the golden one?
Who was I?
My name, the name given to me by the golden one, was the only thing I kept tethered to that memory.
Ahtunowhiho
The one who lives below.
I swear....I'll say it again
I swear....I'll say it again - You. Have. Writing. Talent. And perfect music choice at that.
I enjoy discovering the stories you write and having the pleasure of reading them!
Makes me feel sad for Ahtun. Hope he will find the golden one some day, and if Nina Isi could help at all would be seen as a privilege to him.
*sniffle* :'C
Thank you, edj. I'm glad that
You might see later how the people [rather, creatures] he meets along the way could help him.