Sunflower - Volume 2: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Much has changed in the years that I was away.

The mountain, as cold and as desolate as it once might have been, has gained a trace of the love of the now-extinct settlement that my friend had made in those fruitful times with others of her ilk.

— Others who sought paradise, but gave up the search on the way.

Markers line the trodden ways, over which many feet have now walked; to and from the village. Guideposts and railings have been made and the lower rungs of the mountain are flush and full of grasses that I do not recall being there, in a time since past.

I can not say for sure. But I feel as if a very long time has passed since then.

My dearest friend, who had just reached her adulthood briefly before our separation, is older now by a span of about ten years.

The scrawny, ratty, gremlin-like creature that my best friend, Burch, was, has grown into something tall and nourished and dignified. Her body, never having forgotten the incredible traumas of our journey, is well exercised and rigid, but has secured ample fat stores for its prolonged survival, in places where they do not hinder her movements.

Burch, the deadly killer that she is, has become an alpha predator of her species in body.

Her spirit however, has never quite entirely managed to let go of that horrible time that had caused her to manifest me into existence to begin with.

So it would seem.

After all, is that not why I am here again?

The seeds of my head, rich and large, have sprouted once more from their resting places, deep in the soil of her mind.

I, my prior existence, was simply a tool.

I was made, imagined, by Burch to help her cope and process her grief and fear in a way that her unique, child’s mind could understand.

Now, she has encountered a new nourishing anguish, akin to what must have happened to her as a girl, back with the hobgoblins, back those ten years ago.

— So, me being the great friend that I am, I have returned.

My best friend, Burch, needs me.

Her fracturing mind, already damaged from the incredible violence of our shared past, can not sustain itself without something to give her a sense of solid ground beneath her feet, bare.

As we walk, I look down towards the side, staring at some old hobgoblin skulls.

They are weathered and forgotten. They are bleached pale, by the light of many suns and the graces of many winds.

Yet, their hollow eyes stare up towards us and I can sense that she still hears their snarls in her head.

She can still smell them and feel their claws on her body, as if they were touching her right now, right this very instant.

— I poke Burch on the back of the head with a root.

She looks my way, roused from her condensing thoughts, spiraling around in a whirlpool of horrible memories that had trapped her attention.

I lift myself up tall and proud and spread out my leaves and my petals and I bask in the light of the most generous sun.

I am an exemplary sunflower.

Burch watches me for a moment and then, remembering our lessons past, lifts her head and closes her eyes, shutting any demons that might haunt her blank stare.

The two of us stand there in silence, atop the mountain-way and bask in silent appreciation of this good thing.

The sun can not heal any wounds, most grievous.

But it can allow us a moment of respite.

[Sunflower]

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 261/825

(Burch) EXP: 822/2550 + [Personal Journey]

___________________________________________________

One might have many questions about our past adventure and our current one.

If I am not real, then how do I exist?

How do I fight? How do my roots dig into the soil? How do I absorb the love of the sun?

Well, those would all be excellent questions, to which I have no answer.

It is not for a sunflower to know.

Burch wanders along the mountain way.

I like to think that I do exist, honestly.

Not existing would be very sad, would it not?

Perhaps I am simply a thing that exists, but a thing that only my friend Burch can see?

After all, I am as much a part of her, as her eyes, emerald, as her hair, flowing and as her skin, matted with dried blood, all are.

If you sing a song in your head, is that song not real?

You can hear it, can you not?

Does the fact that others can not do so, make it any less real or tangible?

— I think not.

So, in the same sense as a song in one’s head, I exist.

My actions, my presence, from an outside perspective, might not be easy or simple to explain. But I think that others have seen me from time to time.

— The woman of many promises, for example. The one who had tricked Burch, back when she was young.

I recall her looking at me, when I drained her dry.

But there were also times when I was not seen.

— The hobgoblins, who had pulled Burch out of the hollow log, back when she was a girl, hiding during our first adventure.

They did not understand my presence.

So, in the end, who can really say?

It is just something that we are not to know.

And even if we did, what good would it do?

Would life be any better?

Would the beauty of the sun be any more magnificent?

Or would one, after having this answer, simply go on to seek the next question to ask?  Like a hobgoblin sniffing out the rocks, always seeking more meat.

It is a death-spiral. A pattern that ought to be broken.

Questions are good.

But that does not mean that answering every question is good.

Life is complicated.

___________________________________________________

Who are the howling-men?

The hobgoblins were more or less a force of nature.

They were a swarm of migrating creatures, simply intent on heading towards the west, no matter what or who got in their way.

— In that sense, we were the same.

But Burch learned the truth, that paradise must be a combination of a physical place and a mental place.

If one were to find the physical paradise with a broken spirit and a screaming mind, then paradise would be worthless.

If one were to find mental paradise, but their body is broken and battered and does not work anymore in the ways in which they long it to do, then paradise is worthless.

In both cases, it would be like a lock to which no key exists.

I do wonder if the hobgoblins ever got there and what it is that they found upon the end of their pilgrimage?

Perhaps we will see them there, once we arrive.

Wouldn’t that be funny?

Burch wanders along the mountain path, following it around the lower rung of the great behemoth.

It is still cold and windy up here. But now, Burch has grown stronger and sturdier and she has thick, protective clothes, which shield her from the elements.

But the howling-men, I do not understand.

They are of her ilk, people.

But their eyes are hollow and mournful. Their howls are empty and cold. They cry for the air, like a lone mother wolf, howling for a pack.

Even if I am a part of Burch, I can not quite tell what she knows of them.

___________________________________________________

I have been to the mountain.

I have walked upon the shores.

I have been dead and I have been reborn.

I have been in fights and I have hidden.

I have wandered and I have stayed.

I have done and been and felt so many things in my short life and yet, I hunger for so much more.

The moonlight falls down upon us, as Burch continues to walk down the other side of the mountain.

[Sunflower]

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 277/825

(Burch) EXP: 851/2550 + [Personal Journey]

We have not rested since our intake of sunlight earlier yesterday.

But my friend is not keen on rest.

She has rested for the last ten years and now, her muscles twitch in a desperate longing for movement.

Her fingers twitch, flicking together with her eyes, shooting towards every crack in the darkness.

— No monster ever reveals itself to us.

Her spirit twitches, longing for a place that is so much more, longing to be a thing that is so much more.

In a sense, it is sad.

Because Burch, my best friend who I love most dearly, seeks a place where she will have no need of me ever again.

This causes me terrible pain.

But.

It also brings me great joy.

To be needed. To be wanted. Is there anything else in life that could give one such a sense of purpose? Such a sense of direction?

— I think not.

And so, I will exist for the purpose of leading Burch to a place where she will be able to cast me aside.

This is what friendship is, no?

I am a sunflower.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

___________________________________________________

We wander down the other side of the mountain.

Three days have passed.

Burch has eaten a bird. I felt sorry for it. But she needed the meat.

Here, on the other side of the mountain, lies a whole new world before us and I am excited to see what it has to offer.

I hope to see things most strange and wondrous, once again.