For 2024:

“I thought the goddess of love would look…different.” The wrinkled old woman waved a dismissive hand, leaned closer, and smiled. “You are thinking of my daughter, the goddess of passion and romance. Dearie, I am the goddess of LOVE.”

The cracking rumble of thunder mixed with the soft, warm kisses of the rain is a better combination than you might think. I don’t like chasing storms but I appreciate the ones that come through where I live.

I love the majesty of them all, especially thunderstorms. I used to be afraid of them but now, if I let them, they’ll easily put me to sleep.

The only time I am truly afraid of storms is when the clouds touch the ground. I’m protected by hills and mountains so those storms don’t happen too often.

I have wondered if being in the presence of a thunderstorm is like being in the presence of the king? Where some might find him intimidating while for others he’s soothing.

If I got the pleasure of meeting him, I think I would really like him. I’m not saying that only because I’m one of his subjects but also because I think I would be one of the ones that finds comfort in him.

I wonder.

My highwayman and I started picking out way through an abandoned fishing village. The snow piled up was ridiculous, so much that some buildings were almost completely buried.

The sound of noise of something walking on snow made him freeze.

A clockwork soldier meandered its way around a building a little further down the lane.

"Maybe we shoul-"

"Excuse me!" I called out to the bypassing clockwork soldier.

It stopped and clicked as it turned to face both of us.

"Which hour are you?"

It clunked and clicked over to us.

"I am hour eleven," it informed me.

"Do you have anything to report?" the highwayman questioned it, his hands clasped behind his back.

The clockwork soldier gave a long spiel and all the while, the highwayman was scribbling down something. He always kept up with hour eleven.

"Thank you for your report but I need you to stay for a moment," my highwayman replied as he glossed over his notes.

"That's a bad word," I meekly pointed out one that always meant bad things.

He sighed out an agreement as he made circular movements around some markings he made.

The clockwork soldier chirped when the highwayman addressed him.

"Hour eleven, do you have access to the king at any moment?"

"When I am not active mostly but, yes, when I am active."

"Alright, I have a response to the king's proclamation."

The quiet lake town has always been a favorite places to visit. It wasn't as densely populated as the capital was and it was just all around relaxing.

I haven't been to the marshes, bogs, fens, or anything like that west of the little town. There are rumors of monsters living there.

I like knowing that little town is okay.

The highwayman looked at me steadily.

"Honesty doesn't mean stupidity," he simply stated.

You gotta write for funsies sometimes. Everything doesn’t have to be groundbreaking. Like. Who cares if it’s a little silly it is made out of love

"Tell me something I don't know," I asked the strange man.

He looked up into the mostly cloudy sky and said, "All kids have magic. Some are allowed to keep it while others outgrow it."

"What makes those kids loose magic?" I scooted closer to him.

He looked... lost. "I don't know exactly why some don't keep the magic. Some say that they stop believing in the Elemental of the magic. Others say it depends on if their family had magic in it." His forget-me-not colored eyes bore into mine. "Then you get those like you. No one has come up with a rhyme or reason as to why you and other mages like you are here."

"I think they're meant to be here. All the mages and regular people. Everything wouldn't be the same without anyone missing."

"What about the disgraced king?"

"He is needed, too."

The gentle king was surrounded by many children, as if he himself was one.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold in my tears.

Why was it that I couldn't have that? Why did I have to be feared?

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was getting emotional over a picture used to tell tales to children.

Through foggy eyes, I looked back at the kind; fabled king. Why couldn't he be real?

Original