It ambles across the room, its aura oozing with admiration.
But it seems to become bombarded with the usual hustle and bustle of the busy, booming city.
I can see it crumble and cripple beneath the weight carrying a calm and collected composure, trying not to cry.
Does it know that I, daringly with all the desire that this blue dome can offer, watch it from the distance, dreading despair or disappointment?
On the edge of my extremely entropic seat. I miss seeing its elegance, and hope that if it sees me, it does not think of me as eerie or enthusiastic. I am but ecstatic on ecstasy that I wish to share. If it envies me, I can enchant it so that it joins me in my rank, my league.
For I have magic from fairies that live in fantasies - frozen dreams that can fascinatingly be felt forever if they're fatally melted with fine fire, making the only thing that holds you back, frail, fragile and feeble!
God, I wish I beg for it to approach me. Let me grant it grace and glory. I can't let it live such a generic life, glossy and golden. Oh no, I see it glaring at me, gazing my way!
"Hello!" I yell, oh Hell, oh, Hell!
"Hi, what is this you sell?" comes its hoarse, husky voice. Calm yourself, I tell myself, and so I say: "Oh, just hazel, holy halos that can heroically save your life and sing with handsomely heavenly harmony." I say hilariously.
"I—I'd like to buy!" it exclaims. I can see that it is sick or the icy ice less that have irked it into idleness. It wants to live an immenseC idealistic life full of immaculate, illuminated idyllic halls. Intricate with impeccable detail and iridescent perfection that shines with such fashion, such innovation. It impresses all, inspires invention.
"Joking I am not!" it insists z
"Jealous you mustn't be, but if you have money, then come see, come see." I speak. It is jovial and joyous now. It sees the jaspers I sell, the gemstones that consist of jade, jet and jacinth. It looks jaunty, jolly and joyful now. Oh I can imagine it dance in jocular jubilee.
"If I can't afford such kingly items, then kill me! Oh, be kind, look at how keen I am. I know of you as knowledgeable. Oh, how my heart has been kindled by seeing such kaleidoscopic colours!" it cries.
"Oh, hush, little one! Linger here no more. I'll let you leave with a lilac-painted Jasper or a lovely lapis lazuli." I leniently say. "But listen me this, these stones may be luminous but it is what lurks behind them that is lucidly lurid." I let on.
"They carry meaning and morals. They may be mystic, majestic but they may be miserably messy too. Marvel at them all you want, and be not melancholic now that I have said this to be so. For if worn right their mellifluous melodies may be heard, mysterious and magical they'll make you a miracle-making maverick!"
"No! Is this a warning?" it asks.
"Have you never needed such?" I say, nay, it can't be naïve and narrow in its mind. "Be nauseous not, I am but warning you not to be narcissistic with these. You must be neutral and noble- never nervous or negligent! For if you mistreat them nastily, even nominally - I will stop them from you leaving you natural, numb and naked!"
"Oh, no! I will not be so obviously incompetent nor obnoxious but that is not to say that this won't be an onerous task." it speaks.
"Obedient be, take my advice for I am omnipotent, omniscient. If you are oddly offbeat or odious I shall make sure that your existence becomes obsolete." I warn.
"I am optimistic, but how can I turn down such an opportunity? These are far from ordinary, they're ornamental and orange, yes, but they are also unorthodox and outlandish - some opaque."
"If they are opaque then pry and prise it open, letting pretty purple or pink light through it. Then they will look pleasant and you, peaceful. But be placid and patient with them, such perks aren't priceless if you poorly treat them, they will no longer be pristine, but poison!"
"Enough warning me, hand me the quaint gems without your constant qualm which are like quakes to me. Quarrel not, just hand me said quantity? So I can take them and leave thee. Before we attract a queue and before you verbalise your queries. So, quibble not just be quiet please. Here, like quick quicksilver I shall snatch them and leave!"
"Wrong you are if you think you can run! Take only the red ones and be gone! Be gone! Take your rambunctious radiance away from my studious stand." I watched in surprise as the rebellious little rat thieved lime-coloured one's from me instead, the greenest of jades. Revenge, I'll have, I thought.
"Such a sly, sneaky little snake. I shall clutch its neck and ask it to spontaneously sing for me before it dies." I whisper, once alone. Several eyes darted my way, shaken by the scene that had taken place. "Slither your glances away, please. I'm fine. As sinful as a striped candy cane, partly silver and partly scarlet."
If I must, I will sacrifice my stones for a sandstorm spewed by myself, birthed by me. Anything to steal his sapphire steal to leave him in sadness and sorrow. An eye for an eye. A stone for a stone.
"'Tis night now, go home. Come again another day!" I tell, I yell.
"Tomorrow come, thoughtful or tiresome, tranquil or tensed. So, I may tailor you the stone you need." To them, I say so I tactically put my stones away in places no-one knows. I take my things with me, to take that tiny tottering troll's life if he may threaten mine. But if I do, I'll make sure to take mine too. An eye for an eye. A stone for a stone. A life for a life. Atone, atone.
Under the umbrella I undeniably wait. Uttering utterances that are quiet and sayings that are archaically quaint. I hate urban areas, of which this is so. Urban places are ubiquitous now, though. Ugly and unnatural. Ultraviolet lights. Unusual to me, not unadorned like the countryside that often stinks of horrid things, I must admit.
Oh! - There it goes by! I call it 'it' because it is inhuman, unnatural as ever! Its voice as ugly as an untuned ukulele.
Voice a vicious, harsh one. One that constantly bothers you with begging. A vacuum to all pleasant sound a vapid void of nothingness, looking for more vulgarity - as if that was possible, to fill up its raggedy peasant beige rags with violent shades of magenta and violet too rich for someone as mucky to rightfully afford! It is a thief! And I shall thieve all that it has thieved!
"What is it? Why are you here? When did you first arrive? Who are you? Where do you come from?" I wail at this man's response. He obviously is not it.
It. I need to know its name!
"Why do you need to know all of this? It is wet out here, let me inside where it is wonderfully dry then I shall wilfully spill my secrets, like a willow tree droopily dips it's leaves into the river for the river to taste so that it knows if the willow's woeful life."
"Oh, if I did not hear all of the tunes of a xylophone! I am here," it said, pushing past the guard. "What do you want with me?" it asks.
"He wants our xeric shelter."
"Tell no more then! Out of the icy blue and into the yawning yellow that yawns in comfort and warmth." It says so kindly, to my surprise.
"You took the wrong stones-."
"And you! You yield a weapon! Yellow in its yearlong gold!"
"Stop! You are so spontaneous and zestful in your zeal for whatever it is you seek! Give back what is mine so that I may give you what should have been yours!" I demanded.
"No! You zap me with your zig-zag words no more! I am at my zenith and you dare disrupt me! You know not the zoo I have had to pass to get to this point in my life! A Zanuck I have had to sail on to get here! Through zippy, soul-snatching seas yet you care not to ask! Or to use your eyes to see more than glimmers or gold! Look at all that is mucky with questioning eyes' do you not see the struggles, the pain, the inequality, the poverty? No! You are a zany one in comparison to everyone else! Eyes blind to zeroes!but your rich zone always! You see a horse not a zebra! There are two dichotomous stripes in life. Zodiacs, many. Zillions of zones, of shades of browns to golds. Zillions or types of classes, or circumstances, of personalities- of lives! Zillions. So, forgive meA for I needed the rubies not the jades." And it cried.
Finally, I recognised it as a person. As a 'he' or a 'she'.
"I am sorry, forgive me/ let me now be the one who leaves without the stones he desires." I speak. "I will no longer be zonal or limited. I shall venture with my gemstones, never selling them in one place. And so the rife ended in zen. I sold my stones to people, zillions, diverse and unique. All across the globe. I even zoomed to those who spoke Zulu. Oh what a zealotry journey this ride has been.