Sunflower - Chapter 39 (Patreon)

I am a sunflower.

Night has drawn to a close all around us and my friend, haggard and scraggly like a hunted animal that has been on the run for days, scours the area.

She is hungry.

In her years of healthy growth without me, Burch has become competent as a scavenger.

Just as she had become competent as a hunter, under my tutelage in our last adventure towards paradise.

— And this, despite the fact that sunflowers can not hunt.

Could you imagine if it were not the case?

It would be a very strange sight indeed.

Still. I am a great teacher, for a sunflower.

(Burch) has eaten [Sour Fruit]

Midnight looms around us, hanging heavy like a suffocating blanket. The radiant starlight dangles down above our heads in what almost appears to be frayed strings of the fabric.

Yet, I can not help but feel like they are the many loose strands of a spider’s web, hanging high above our heads.

Burch and I stare up towards the night, towards the many glows.

— I wonder, does she seek the spider in the sky like I do?

If so, neither of us appear to be able to see it.

What an odd series of thoughts.

Perhaps this is all just some poetic moontalk?

I do find that the night makes me more of a romantic.

How very unusual for a sunflower.

I am poetic and adventurous and most excitable.

But I am hardly a romantic.

[Sunflower]

You bask in the light of the moon

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 384/825

(Burch) EXP: 1058/2550 + [Personal Journey]

I wonder if this is the same for the creatures of Burch’s ilk?

Given her hurt at the many familiar bodies that she has found along the way, I do wonder indeed.

Although, romance does not seem to be a viable thing now, given the climate. But perhaps it was so during my rest.

Sorry, Burch.

But this is for the best, I believe.

After all, would I be able to release my best friend to someone else?

- No.

I think not.

Ignoring the fact that my existence is tightly tied to the life of Burch’s blood, I do not think that I could manage without her.

It is not so much not-existing that worries me, should I need to stop doing so.

I have not-existed many times already. It was not so bad.

No.

What worries me is existing all by myself, without my very best friend.

What a sad life that would be.

Even if Burch could not move forever, even if we were stuck here at this very spot where we stand now, beneath the night, doomed to never reach paradise — I would still prefer it to the alternative.

Staying here with a friend is better than going to paradise alone.

Hmm.

Life.

__________________________________________

A bird screeches high in the air, releasing a falcon’s shriek.

I immediately sense the changes in the soil around us, as the many mice scamper into their burrows.

Rabbits thud and stomp and hop into their holes.

Leaves rustle, as sparrows hide in the trees.

And all of this was brought to motion by the single cry of a single bird, so very far above our heads.

Burch sits in the grass of a field and I sit next to her, my roots laying deep down in the dirt.

I eat richly of the minerals and the nutrients of the ground.

It is interesting to wonder about, no?

— The things that are set into motion by a single action.

The cry of the hawk has caused every creature in our vicinity to interrupt its day and to hide, for fear of being eaten.

But what of the hungry snake, who would have caught one of these mice that now hide?

What of the badger, who would have eaten the snake?

What of the very hawk, who now circles above us in search of food? It could have eaten the badger, if not also the snake.

But now the mice are gone, so the snakes are gone and so, the badger is as well.

This leaves just Burch and myself sitting here and the hawk above our heads.

Because of one action of its own, it has made its life far more difficult.

I wonder if this could be said of Burch as well?

My friend looks towards me, tilting her head as she stares into my face and I back into hers.

I almost feel as if she heard me thinking her name.

But she simply turns back forward and watches the hawk and I do much the same.

The actions of the hobgoblins in a decade now past had caused the great destruction and the famine in this region.

The human city that we had passed through in those old days, those who survived the anarchy and the hunger became the howling-men.

And because of that, we sit at the end of that chain reaction here, now.

But where does it all stem from?

The howling-men stem from the hobgoblins.

The hobgoblins stem from the other side of the world, from where my friend comes too.

So… the problems that now befall these mice here, this hawk, the metaphorical badgers, they stem from all the way from the other side of the world. From actions and events that transpired over a decade ago.

— It really makes you think, no?

The hawk shrieks.

I assume not in response to my question.

I can not help but think that it is causing more problems for itself than it is solving.

Sometimes it is best to suffer in silence.

__________________________________________

Paradise.

Could such a place even exist?

A place where all things are warm and sunny. A place where the air is good and the soil is rich and the bees are fat and fruitful.

A place where the faces of everyone who we have lost along the way linger before our dewy eyes.

A place where all of the sensations and feelings that we could not partake in, because they were to be found down a different road than the one that we took, could be experienced in their full essence.

I want it.

I want to go to paradise almost more than anything.

But where could it be?

Given some… minor delays, Burch and I have technically been journeying towards it for over ten years now, since that fateful day we had met.

I suppose that, to be fair, most of those ten years was Burch taking a break. But still; the point remains.

Will it take ten years more?

Or perhaps ten days?

— I lift my head to gaze towards the sun above our heads.

Or perhaps ten seconds?

I wait.

Ten seconds pass.

[Sunflower]

You bask in the light of the moon

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 389/825

(Burch) EXP: 1068/2550 + [Personal Journey]

I look around ourselves and see that we are, indeed, not in paradise.

Oh well.

It was worth a shot, right?

Perhaps paradise really is just an internal sensation, rather than a physical place.

Stones litter the ground, which wouldn’t be unusual if not for an oddity.

They are full of holes.

— Why?

Burch stops and picks up one of them rocks, perhaps being curious as well.

I lean down and over her shoulder, my head resting next to hers as she spins the rock around before our faces.

But, it is just that, a rock.

Wow.

I never knew that rocks could be so diverse. Aren’t rocks always solid? Isn’t having holes detrimental to a rock’s purpose of maintaining consistent rockiness?

If so, then why does this rock have holes?

The only explanation I can think of is that it has another purpose.

But the reasoning for this escapes me.

“They’re hobgoblin jaws,” says Burch, throwing the ‘rock’ over her shoulder.

Jaws?

“When they die, people like to harvest their teeth.”

Oh.

Interesting.

I turn around and watch as the jaw clatters down, striking against another pile.

These aren’t rocks.

These are all bones.

The plain that we trod over is coated, fully covered, in bones belonging to a very large amount of hobgoblins.

It would seem that some force caught up with the hobgoblins eventually. From the looks of things, it consumed most of them before they ever made it close to paradise.

— The poor fools.

I do wonder what it is exactly that they all succumbed to.

I turn to the left and look.

Bones litter the world from here to the distant horizon.

I turn to the right and look.

Bones litter the world there too, for as far as I can see.

I wonder.

Do any of them remain?

Or did all of them perish here?

At the very least, the soil of the bonefield is fertile and rich here beyond comparison.

But I must admit that I am a little sad.

— Burch kicks a skull to the side and it shatters against another one.

In truth, I had hoped that our predecessors on this road, the hobgoblins, would have carved out the way for us.

But it seems that they have failed.

Still. I thank you, hobgoblins.

Without you to terrify and hound my friend, we would have never come this far or so close to one another.

I hope to see your ilk in paradise when we get there.

Until we do, I will live on in remembrance of your spirit.

I am a sunflower.

But today, in my heart of hearts, I am a hobgoblin.