A new series of mine. It is a pretty psychological/emotional series, and some topics may be deep. The writing may be kind of unclear/confusing/vague at times. This is intentional. Why? It's because it's up to you to fill in the pieces. I hope you enjoy, and please tell me if I should continue it.


About Suggestions

Feel free to comment on what subject you'd like to see in the next entry. It can be...

  • an emotion (fear, joy)
  • a virtue (faith, friendship)
  • a situation/event (moving, marriage)
  • a thing (snow, cats)
  • an abstract noun (winter, culture)
  • whatever else

Heck, you could even use it as an advice column. Or you could ask questions about her or request her to do stuff. Anything works, really.

Entry 1: Waiting

The wind rustled through the leaves of the trees. The stream babbled its soft murmurs. The sun's rays warmed the grass underpaw. The sounds of many birds mingled into a single, distant harmony. It was peaceful. She could feel it.

There was a rustle in the bush beside her. She turned to see a red bird leaning down on its branches, gently nibbling on the juicy blueberries. A red bird of paradise. So graceful. The fox's eyes flitted back to the stream before her, as the creature continued to enjoy its meal of berries.

Splash, splash. She looked up. A long, graceful figure waded through the brook before her. A scarlet doe, its long legs slowly moving through the water. She gazed at it. Its aqua eyes looked back at her.

"Hello," it shyly greeted, in a tone not unlike a whisper. "Rose."

"Hello." The fox's voice was a gentle tone. Intuitive. Knowing.


Rose finally spoke, patiently talking to the deer. "You were mad once. But now?"

The deer sighed, letting her thin, elongated muzzle drop. "They were fighting again."

Her eyes were still focused somewhere else, gazing off with a blank wisdom. "Oh really?"

The doe nodded. "Yes. He wants to run away to Shiveer with my sisters and I."

"Is he a man of empty words? Or does he mean what he says?"

"The truth is, Rose, I don't know. He's so unpredictable."

There was another pause before the doe murmured, "It's like I'm waiting for them to get a divorce..."

The fox answered with a deep knowledge. "Waiting. An agonizing sensation... It makes you feel so helpless, no? Like you don't have control, or a voice, or a say in the matter. All you can do is sit. And wait."

"Yes, exactly..." A timidness filled her voice. An inward fear.

More silence.

"But I just don't understand," the deer suddenly burst out. "Everybody tells me there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Everybody tells me there's hope, and to not give up. Everybody tells me I just need warm faces and smiles. Everybody tells me it's going to be okay."

Her aqua eyes began to water. "I just want to feel okay..."

Rose sat as she felt a face bury into her shoulder. Tears dripped from the doe's eyes, rolling onto the fox's fur. Rose's own eyes clouded with concern. She patiently nuzzled the deer, until the flow of tears gradually slowed. The atmosphere was of a silent, quiet mourning. The colorful, carefree birds of paradise high up in the treetops fell to the silence. Even they paid homage to the humble scene of grief.

A quiet moment followed, where the two found themselves looking into each other's eyes. The wise fox looked with compassion deep into the two aqua eyes in front of her. The wind no longer rustled through the leaves of the trees. The stream ceased to babble its soft murmurs. The sun's rays did not warm the grass underpaw. She was hurting inside. Rose could feel it.

"Strongspirit, sometimes there's nothing you can do. Sometimes you just have to wait."

((Based on an actual conversation I had with a friend.))

Entry 2: Grief

It had been a nice evening. Rose had certainly enjoyed the premiere. The wolf was great company as well. She sat on the smooth wooden decks in the treetops, gazing down at the forest below. The canine sat beside her. The glow of dusk shone through the trees in colors of pinks and yellows and oranges. An incredible display. All seemed well.

But it wasn't. The fox could tell. Her friend was acting strange. Rose felt it. He was quiet. Solemn. Troubled. Like a flood had come and washed away his bright light. His flame was snuffed, leaving only a damp void. Rose knew exactly why. And even she was troubled by the answer.

It was a raw topic. Not many ventured into it without good reason. But it was something that her companion needed to hear. Rose turned to the tan wolf, eyes filled with the wisdom she was known for.

"Firststar, she's gone."

She immediately saw the pain in Firststar's orange eyes. Those eyes. Once bright, now solemn.

"No," he whispered, although the words were hollow. Both the speaker and the listener knew within that they were false.

Rose said it again. "Firststar. She's gone. You must accept it."

The wolf spoke again through gritted teeth. "No. She's not. She's not gone."


"No, Rose!" He snarled. "She isn't. She's- she's just not, okay?!"

Rose's eyes softened. She didn't use words this time. She gazed into those hurt orange eyes. They told of pain, regret. The fox looked into them. They lost their hard, angry stare, and gave in to reality. Firststar's mind forcefully gave up its denial.

There was a pause. The flame-pelted wolf then sighed. "It's just not fair. It's not. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to die. It's not fair at all."

Rose stared off distantly. Her tone was a hollow murmur. "Sometimes life doesn't play fair in its own game."

They both sat for a moment. Firststar huffed, and finally stated, "You know, I feel like there was more I could have done. I could have noticed her signs early on. I could have taken her to the Center before it was too late. I could have even been there to protect her when she contracted the virus." He stopped. "But you know what? I didn't. I never took note of her symptoms or anything. I failed. I failed, and now Daisy is gone."

The world seemed to stand still.

"Daisy is gone." A tear ran down his cheek.

Rose gently touched his cheek with her tail. They had a silent, warm embrace. The moment seemed to hang in the air. Both hearts were heavy. Both pairs of eyes were clouded with sorrow. She waited, and then spoke to him with gentle care.

"Firststar, Daisysun was an amazing person. Nobody could have known about her illness. Nobody could have guessed what would happen to her. You were there for her, every second. You were her protector, you loved her. And she loved you. Nobody cared for her more than you did. You were the one she cared for most."

She softly smiled. "Even though you feel like you failed her, you were the best brother she could have."

The wolf glanced at the fox. "I keep being told that even though she's not with us anymore, she's with us in spirit and in memory." He took a deep breath, and exhaled. "But Daisy isn't here."

"Daisy isn't here. She's no longer with us anymore. It's something no spirit or recollection of her can compare to. But what they say is true. She is with us in memory. And even though those memories will never truly fill the place of Daisysun, they are at least something to hold on to."

Firststar smiled weakly at his friend's familiar wisdom. He nuzzled her in a mildly playful way, and she returned the gesture. Some of the light returned to his eyes.

They turned to see the last rays of sunset touch the horizon, the glow fading from the tips of the trees. The incredible display was completed with dusky pops of reds and faded oranges that blended with the sky of midnight blue and deep purples. They felt the smooth wood of the treetop deck beneath them. It had been a nice evening. All was well.

((Interpreted from a suggestion from FoxStray.))

Entry 3: Heartbreak

Rose sat in the small, round plaza. It was separated from the rest of the township, a private wonder of its own. Vines entangled ancient columns, and sunlight filtered down from above. Only one stood with the fox. A symbol. A sign. A reminder. A statue. Mira.

Mira, the great bird. The co-creator of Jamaa. The protector, the mother. The keeper of peace and harmony. The image of all things beautiful, gentle, and caring. An emblem of hope for the nation of Jamaa. The giver of love.


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