Headspace

They say that eyes are the window to the soul. You've heard the phrase "to see the world through new eyes". What if they're not phrases, what if it's a warning? What if the eyes /are/ windows to the soul, but not our eyes, not our soul?

When the family pet sits across the room, staring at you, do you think they want attention? Maybe you think they're hoping you drop some food, offer some pets. Your children, observing your actions, mimicing your mannerisms. Your supervisor, reviewing your performance and ensuring your compliance. Your friends, sharing your secrets and your innermost thoughts. The truth, as it is, is more sinister, more invasive. Their eyes, they are the windows.

Their eyes showcase the world as you experience it, the world as you believe it. Like a fish in a tank, your actions are supervised. Your behavior draws crowds, your experiences provide entertainment.

Your life is viewed through the eyes of those around you, providing windows to you, to the soul you pour into the world around you. To see the world through new eyes is to view your actions through a new window, to see your life in a new setting.

I started hearing voices when I was eighteen years old. Well, not voices in the plural sense, just one voice, singular.

At first, it was just a word here and there, like a conversation overheard from across the room. As the months passed, the words turned to sentences, to one-sided conversations. When the voice would come, I would sit quietly and listen.

The voice was masculine, my first reason for viewing it as separate from myself. It argued with me, guided me; my second reason.

I'd be trying to make a decision, and the voice would give advice.

"Wear the red one, it brings out your eyes"

"Don't call him back, he's not worth it"

I'd be oblivious to my surroundings, the voice would be paying attention.

"Step to the left, there's a puddle"

"The lights red, you should probably stop"

I came to think of the voice as my mental version of a seeing eye dog, guiding me through the path of life, directing me which way to go.

My life continued in this way for a few years; life was progressing as normal. Until it wasn't.

I was sitting at my desk filing away unimportant emails, counting the moments until my lunch break began. Behind me, footsteps approached. The voice returned.

What if dragons weren't the majestic creatures of mythology? What if, in the world's they inhabit, they're just animals?

What if instead of fish, the oceans are filled with dragons of different sizes? Tiny serpentine dragons, swimming through the waters like our eels. Larger dragons the size of whales, who exist wholy in the oceans and lay eggs in the depths below. Dragons of all sizes, styles, and colors, caught by fisherman for their scales, for their eggs, and to sell as pets in water dragon fishtanks.

What if instead of dogs, cats, and horses, there were companion dragons? Small dragons who would curl around your neck as you walk, peaking out over your shoulder and blowing smoke rings at anyone who gets too close. Medium size dragons who were kept on leashes, obediently walking or flying alongside their owners. Larger dragons, used as pack animals, carrying passengers and cargo between cities across roads and through the skies.

What if instead of creatures of the forest, there were dragons? Small butterfly like dragons, flitting from flower to flower as their iridescent wings reflect the sunlight. Medium dragons, building nests in the treetops, laying their eggs away from the slithering serpentine dragons down below. Larger dragons, with dark scales hiding them in the night, stalking prey who happens to wander too close to their hunting grounds.

In our world, we have introverts and extroverts. Those who recharge through solitude, and those who recharge through socializing. What if these differences were something more? What if those differences were a natural magic that existed within us, subtly using our surroundings for energy, like a plant photosynthesising?

Those who have an affinity for earth, filling their house with plants. Their gardens always manage to grow just a little better than their neighbors, their flowers a little brighter and their crops just a little bigger. When they're stressed, they add another row to the garden, repot the plant that was growing too fast, and surround themselves with living greenery. Their living room has vines flowing out of potted plants, wrapping around the upper reaches of the walls. Their tables have floral arrangements, sourced from their personal garden. Their herbs are fresh-plucked from their windowsill garden, bringing just a little more potency to dishes than they should.

Those who have an affinity for water, who almost always are found near a pool. They are summer days at the beach, swimming until their fingers prune. Their bathtubs are deep and large, perfect for relaxing after a long day of work. They always have water that manages to taste just a little better than your own, just a little more refreshing on a hot day. They can hold their breath just long enough that it raises suspicion, but not long enough to worry.

Those with the affinity for air, who escape out into the open. They feel at home when surrounded by open space, wind brushing their hair over their shoulders. They run, chasing the breezes and leaving their stresses behind. Their windows are always open, a refreshing breeze always carrying the fresh air inside.

Those with the affinity for fire, who gather around campfires and bathe in the light of the flames. Their summers are spend basking in the beach, absorbing the warmth of the sun. When they cook, the food is always evenly cooked to the perfect temperature.