A Place of My Own

[helia]

Helia sat, watching the small animals, thinking whether or not to draw them or possibley write about them. He sighed and thought of where anyone could be.
Alone he sat, with noone to call his own. It makes him sad, but he can cope with it. There was a girl when he was younger and then there was Flora.
Flora, he thought, why must it the way it is? The way it is does not seem right to me, but I have done what my heart told me. I do not know what to expect of the future, but I do hope it is kind to the both of us.

[helia]

Helia took his notebook and pen, then started writing.
Nights of nights,
Days of days.
Lead the way to love.
He stopped and sighed, he just had no inspiration.

[helia]

'Why is it that I can not think of anything to write,' Helia thought. He sighed.
Under his breath, he sang a song that his mother made about him and sang to him when he was a young boy.
My sweet little poet,
How do you think of
The flowing of lines,
The ones full of love.
I love thee to pieces
And though I may go,
I want you to know
That I love you so.

My young little poet,
Please, always do well.
I will love you forever,
As time shall tell.

I love my sweet young boy,
Helia he is called.
My loving boy,
My caring boy,
The boy I now know.

When the day comes
That I leave you,
Remember this song
And I shall always be with you.

The flowing of words,
The ones full of love.
Remember this song,
And I shall be with you.

Tears came to his eyes. One slowly rolled down his cheek and landed on the notebook's paper. Helia looked down at the tear and he saw that it was shaped like a heart.
This comforted him some and saddened him some. 'Is the heart for my mother or for the girl that I love?' he thought.

[helia]

He sat and cried, thinking of the past.
The memories of his mother, the sadness of her funeral and the tears of his family.
The memories of the girls that he thought he loved before, and then the images of the girl he loves now.
Tears swelled in his eyes.
Helia didn't see the small birds coming up beside him and turning their heads slightly in concern.
He just kept crying, thinking of the songs that reminded him of loved ones.

[helia]

Helia picked up his pen to start drawing when he noticed a small speckled feather. He took the feather and open his pen. Inside was a small tube of black ink he could dip the feather in.
He dipped the feather in and drew the nature around him. The trees, the birds, the flowers, and even the scenery of the far of bodies of people he guessed to be fairies and specialists.