#amwordism

Real love is not born from desire or made from desperate lust. It is forged in a gentle fire and shaped by innocent trust.

Real love is not like a fairytale and can be difficult to follow but it ensures we don’t fail by never becoming hollow.

Real love is not always clear as it alters itself to survive. It can be something very dear if we just allow it to thrive.

~ AM Wordism 

there is something so alluring in the power of pure gold;

it falls from our hands, spilling, spilling in a mess of glory;

there is something so beautiful in the legends we get told;

it leaks from our words oozing, oozing to alter our story;

there is something so exquisite in the legacies of old;

it drips off our books, slipping, slipping to show us outlawry;

there is something so enchanting in the power of pure gold.

Original Fiction

“Can you feel this?” // “People like you have no imagination.” // “How can I trust you?” // “Will that be all?” // “Take what you need.” // “I heard enough, this ends now." // “No worries, we still have time.” 

It’s with a start that Moxie is jolted back into consciousness.

She hadn’t even realised she’d drifted off, but that was just another occupational hazard of trying to survive in a world that no longer valued those who were deemed to be imperfect, even if the standards of perfection were harmonious with idyllic impossibility.

“Rise and shine, Moxie,” Enzo murmurs from above her, his eyes the same colour as the sunlit leaves behind him as she meets his gaze.

“Why?” She asks, dragging out the last phoneme with a tired frown on her face.

Enzo takes her hand and places it on his wrist, letting her listen to his sprinting pulse before pointedly raising an eyebrow. “Can you feel this?” he asks, “It means we’re going to have company if we don’t start moving soon.”

With a groan, Moxie pulls herself up – using Enzo as a ballast, of course – and shakes away the aching stubbornness in her limbs, then taking the apple-flavoured breakfast bar from Enzo and breaking into it.

It doesn’t take them long to fall into their routine of erasing their tracks as best as possible and becoming mobile, their backpacks softly rustling as they walk. Although, they only travel about half a mile before there’s an alarming thud a couple metres in front of them.

“Was that a bear?” Enzo asks, bewildered.

Moxie shakes her head in amusement. “Nah, more like a deer or something.”

Before he can reply, an exasperated scoffing echoes from up ahead, followed by a reasonably condescending: “People like you have no imagination…”

Enzo frowns at that, taking a step forward as realisation dawns on his face. “Xnij?” he inquires, his voice gentle but firm enough to elicit a clear reply. Rather than a verbal one, though, the two of them are met with a familiar sheepish smile, accompanied by Xnij engulfing them both in an embrace.

Moxie stumbles, throwing her hands out to steady herself as the three of them find their balance again. She shares an amused look with Enzo, who pulls back from their hug with a fond grin aimed at the third and final member of their group.

Xnij matches his grin as they brush the leaves from their shoulders and their expression turns a little more serious. “You’re better off going the other way, trust me.”

“How can I trust you,” Moxie fires back immediately, “when you look like you just crawled out of a glittery black hole?”

She has a point. Xnij looks like someone threw them into the deepest abyss space had to offer and then let a happy-go-lucky toddler who’d just been introduced to sparkles have at it with them.

She’s met with a classic eye-roll, followed by: “You can trust me because I’ve just outrun the soldiers rapidly approaching from behind me and unless you want to start a fight, you’d better listen to me and run!”

“They’re right, we need to go,” Enzo mutters breathlessly, grabbing her wrist and giving her the momentum she needs to start running.

And they run. Heavens, do they run. They run and run and let the wind howl beside them as they run and only stop when they reach a small, crumbling café that seems to be more or less functional judging by the smoke curling out of the chimney.

Ducking inside, Xnij grabs themself what looks like a croissant and places it in front of the counter, where a small, elderly lady raises an eyebrow. “Will that be all?” she asks sceptically.

Xnij shrugs awkwardly, pulling out a single gold coin and placing it flat on the counter. “I think that’s all I can afford, right?”

The lady’s expression softens and she shakes her head, much like a mother at her troubled child. Gesturing to the basket of freshly-baked goodies, she says: “Take what you need.”

Enzo’s stomach grumbles at that exact moment and his face flushes a rich pink, an obvious contrast to the colour of hot chocolate that his skin resembles - although that particular connection may only exist in Moxie’s mind.

“That applies to all three of you,” the lady adds, nodding her head to the tantalising pile that really shouldn’t be able to exist in such a decrepit place.

The three of them shyly seat themselves at the counter and take their fill - or rather, half of it because travelling on a full stomach is a fool’s errand - without directly acknowledging the lady openly looking over them. Only once they’ve silenced their hunger do they stand, Moxie turning to the lady with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, we really appreciate your kindness. If there’s anything we can do for you in return…?”

The lady waves a hand at them dismissively, her fingers curling around the gold coin for a second before she closes her eyes and opens her fist again, three coins now resting on her palm as her hands glow ever so slightly.

Enzo’s jaw drops but he’s quick to grin widely, then frown sadly. “Thank you but you can’t help us, haven’t you heard that it’s illegal to give aid to outlaws?”

Her eyes flash with what looks like carelessly controlled rage. “I heard enough.” Her voice is all but a hiss, making even their blood freeze for a moment. “This ends now.”

“This?” Moxie echoes hesitantly.

“This… This whole idea that we cannot provide for those who belong to us, those who so desperately need our help and are only denied it because of a selfish greed that controls the hearts of our corrupted so-called superiors.”

The three of them blink, not having expected such rebellious determination but admiring it all the same, Xnij wordlessly accepting the three gold coins as she hands them over, a sense of calm returning to her delicate features.

“Would you do me a favour and tell me what you think of my new pie?” She asks innocently, her previous venom gone as if it had never been there in the first place.

Since the lady is looking at her, Moxie offers her a clueless shrug, looking over to Enzo with a questioning look, knowing he’s the best judge of how long they can stay in one place.

After a second, he nods. “No worries, we still have time,” he says to Moxie, before turning to the surprising old lady, a charming smile on his face. “We’d be honoured to try it!”

And so, despite the fact that they’re more or less in mortal peril, the three of them ignore the world for a little while, settle into the cosiest decaying building to exist, and simply enjoy the most unique pie they’ve ever tasted in their lives.

He was a broken angel basking in the shadows.

She was a healing demon hiding in the daylight.

Their paths intertwined, they set out blind.

He risked it all and she heard his call.

With souls entwined, they slowly became aligned, learning to live between their worlds.

I want to go back.

Back to when I was only eight years old and my grandfather had just gifted me my first camera.

Back to when I spent days taking far too many pictures, asking anyone and everyone in my family to smile when they were in the vicinity so I could take even more.

Back to when I didn’t care for impressing anyone except myself - although I did also want to impress my family because their approval was enough to fuel my crazy passion.

I want to jump back into the photos I took and relive that childish innocence, relive the way I could spend my time fooling around and laughing at nothing until I got too tired and collapsed on my bed - or on a parent’s lap - at the end of the day. 

I want to sink back into the way I did whatever I wanted without overthinking it to the point of quitting because I crave the freedom to experiment and make mistakes and grow through messing up rather than seeking perfection until it physically hurts.

I want to fall back into how I had no fear of failure and no qualms about asking for help because I was young and dumb but, as all children are, smart enough to venture away from comfort zones and dabble with things not even remotely understandable.

When I look back at the photos I took, I crave the simplicity of childhood.

Of a time where judgement rolled off my shoulders like the coats I always refused to wear during winter, much to the exasperation of my mother. 

Of a time where unfamiliar challenges were just as enjoyable as familiar routines because there was nothing to lose and something, anything, everything to gain.

Of a time where having fun and passing time was just as normal as stress and pressure are now and when there was no such thing as having wasted time.

I’d rather be small and young and still in the process of learning because reminiscing and regretting is no fun and it turns out growing up is the furthest thing from the childish comfort of simplicity. 

I crave that simplicity.

On days like today, I want and wish to go back.

I wish so hard that my skin trembles and my heart aches and my soul feel like its been wildly tossed out of place.

I wish with all the strength I have in my tired and growing bones that I could somehow dissolve into those photos, those memories, those carefree times. 

I wish and I wish and I do everything but seek out a well to throw a coin into, every moment of my day filled with a melancholy desire to reverse the clock and experience my childhood all over again. 

I want to go back. 

Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

You appeared to me suddenly and took over my whole world by posing as a loving oasis in which I saw nothing amiss.

I was lured into your promise of completing my journey but I somehow didn’t realise you meant that as my demise.

Giving you the keys to my heart is something I’ll always regret but now I am far more aware of which parts in me to share.

You didn’t warn me when you left as if I was nothing in your eyes, just another lonely traveller who fell for your illusion of colour.

But you didn’t stop and consider that people can bloom from pain so keep your mirage of love and watch me grow further above.

~ AM Wordism 

Their eyes are incredibly simple and yet they are so much more. The magic lying with them is something I’ll always adore.

Their eyes are filled with stars glittering like a night sky and the constellations formed are too beautiful to deny.

Their eyes are filled with nature like forests or quiet lagoons. Every time I look into them, the love inside me blooms.

Their eyes are filled with colours that change under the light and each different shade elicits a new kind of delight.

Their eyes are full of mystery that borders on ineffable and each detail just proves that they are simply incredible.

~ AM Wordism