Young Writers Society

Haring picked the glossy, rosy apple, pushing it upward and giving a little twist as the apple fell into his fleshy red hands. For a moment, he swore upon Tsema's divine utterance-- the apple had smiled towards him.

Although the king was going mad, Haring's garden was a lush paradise, with several groves of different types of trees covering several acres. The trees and plants often had borne elegant flowers, some of them were sentient (and sapient), sometimes greeting Haring with a Hello! or How's your day? along with other greetings.

And there were also creatures, from the small Yujae fairy colonies that dwelled within the forest paradise, or the fluffy, warm-hearted Wagmi beasts that would follow or help Haring's laborious tasks. The two species were in peace and harmony, as it was both of their habitats.

But the King was the one in great misery, despite living with several creatures and a pleasurable, vast garden. The King had lost his spouse and his two children during the day he spent time in the garden, and the King could not find a trace of their disappearance. Haring could not properly cope with this incident, for the World he lived in was big, or perhaps the Gods have kidnapped the King's loved ones.

The only thing the King found joy in was collecting resources and making food. He would only be able to serve it to the humans who had haplessly wandered to the Realm of Purple Skies, where it would start raining shards of metal violently.

Therefore, Haring found great joy in creating and making food for such unexpected guests, as some were... quite mysterious. The food sometimes would be served with identifiable ingredients such as strawberries, apples, onions, potatoes, or meat. However, some ingredients came in exotic colors, such as violet vegetables with a crunchy texture of a carrot or sweet-scented orange pineapples.

Such mantras and dances that were sung with other Paradigms, who created the patterns of this nasty, wicked Earth was not weird to the youngster Felikz and Kris.

In fact, what the two just sung were his father's poems. The two were too naïve and young to understood the lyrics, but they enjoyed singing it's beautiful melody. Each note represented with such importance and joy to the children.

However in the other hand, the children's other father (or as they would call him "Papa!" with a cheerful glee), the self entitled King, disagreed with teaching the children with songs with such disturbing meaning to it.

"Muse!" the King scolded the Singer of the Poems, "it is not right to teach the children such sacrilegious and profane songs, for it would defile their damned soul to a greater punishment. A generation of violent, wicked creatures surely will bring great destruction upon this broken, doomed Universe!"

"My King, what wrong have I done in your sight?" the Singer of Poems objected, "us, all of us as a family, are Paradigms. We are creatures equal to the biped beasts who dwell and thrash against the beautiful Maiden Urth. Our visual and auditory abilities aren't like the past. I am merely a doll that has centipedes dwelling the insides, and you are a doll who desires to taste despite having no mouth to devour."

"Fool! You are nothing but a wicked centipede who manipulates yet knows nothing about themself!"

"You are also a shell that has a morality more crooked than the back of an elderly mortal."

As Kris and Felikz saw with awe their parents arguing back and forth and insulting each other, they giggled softly.

"Teehee!" Felikz under their own breathe, "do you see our Fathers, who had loved each other in the past, bickering like two mortals, brother?"

"Indeed," Kris grinned a superior smirk, "the discord! Brother, do you not find such great joy in the arguments between two parents?"

"Yes..." Felikz hesitated speaking for a moment, "brother, do you ever wonder who or what we truly were before we had received our Numen?"

"Have you even questioned about this?"

"Does it matter?" Kris questioned, "we aren't even Paradigms unlike what our new 'parents' think of us as. Were young forever, wandering to find the true purpose of ourselves. We were born as wanderers—"

"—and we are still wanderers," Felikz finished the line, recieving a chuckle from Kris, whose emerald eyes were shimmering with joy.

While the two were talking, the King and the Singer of the Poems stopped arguing. It was until for a long time the two realized it was very silent with no one yelling or arguing.