#aprilfool

The gods, or the elementals

as they like to call themselves,

are born from Cecilia;

the mother of earth.

She had a vision

of how she wanted the world to be.

She created the elementals

to make the planet habitable.

Their job had always been

to work together.

To coexist,

as humanity was meant

to coexist with each other.

Though, how can one easily

coexist when you have been

pitted against each other

from the start?

They were not all created equal,

with some having more

natural gifts than others.

Who has the most abilities

is an indication of who

is Cecilia's favorite.

They all have been named from mortals.

Only the gods themselves,

know of their true names.

While all of them can change form;

most have rules and limitations.

Stated to be the most important thing

I god could have.

There are many reasons

for such rules in place.

The world has flooded,

froze over, and burnt to a crisp.

A crossed god cannot

senselessly wipe out

the inhabitants of a whole world.

Cecilia is not happy

when her life's work

is taken over by someone else.

Even with that information,

we still do not know much about her.

She is the grand creator.

She has put the elementals in charge.

There has only ever been

one sighting of her.

A painting of her,

in here natural form.

No other form has been documented.

Written and painted by AprilFool 🐸

While at a gas station bathroom,

A little girl peeked under my stall.

Please do not look under my stall.

I said calmly, my tone firm.

Her guardian called her over

with no mention of what happened.

A few moments later,

I hear the caregiver lecture them

about the dangers of

wandering off alone.

"It's not safe to do that nowadays."

She started.

"You can't just wander off alone. People are scary, they'll just snatch you up."

I don't disagree, safety is important.

I don't understand why you didn't

lecture them about the bathroom stall.

A moment after a woman walked into

the stall next to mine,

I hear the caregiver tell the child

not to look under people's stalls.

At least she ended up saying something.

My head hurts.

Written by AprilFool 🐸

And the words flow out of me

like fine wine.

I don't have to think twice.

I don't have to try.

It flows.

Ir flows, it goes,

and I type.

Though it drains slowly.

I halt,

ger caught up on the words.

My brain is a cluster,

my thumbs so down.

I cranked them out,

I let it out.

I released.

The flow has come to an end

but I am ansty.

I want to write.

I want to flow.

Until then,

I guess I'll float.

Written by AprilFool 🐸

Sand in my name

Sand in my hand

Sand in my face

Sand in my place

Grains in the cracks

Stuck in place

Sticky from sweat

Clean the slate

The slate?

In this state?

Sticky with sweat,

sand in my name

Written by AprilFool 🐸

Crushed and twisted

on the side of road.

Sun reflects off of it.

Shiny, like the blood

that sits on exposed flesh.

A cut she didn't feel.

Shallow and meant nothing;

unlike the others,

that burrow in the back of her mind.

She picks up the can

and studies it for a moment,

before tossing it aside.

They were one and the same;

both forgotten on the side of the road.

Written by AprilFool 🐸

I just deliver them.

I am not the snack

that helps you get by.

The rumbling in my stomach

makes me wish I had one.

I look good,

thank you for the compliment.

I like the flattery;

the attention is nice.

Although, it is not fate

that I returned to your doorstep

with your drink in hand.

"They forgot my drink smh"

is what you had texted me.

I looked down at my cupholder.

I had completely forgotten.

I am so sorry!

I texted.

I'll turn around right now and bring it to you.

I wasn't far by any means.

I was only a block away.

I still remembered how to get there.

It was no issue for me.

I am under paid and overworked,

but it was my mistake.

I'll gladly make it right if I could,

and I could.

I drove back and ran his drink up.

I apologized again,

and that was that.

We parted ways.

He texted me on my way home;

said he wasn't gonna say anything

but I came back so it must

have been fate.

Thank you for the kind words,

but it is not.

I simply wanted to right a wrong.

However, I do appreciate you

waiting until I left

to shoot your shot.

Delivery drivers put themselves

in a valuable position.

It does remind me a similar encounter

I had many years back.

It was about eleven pm

and my hair was wet from my shower.

My pizza just arrived,

but they had forgotten my pepsi.

The delivery driver

went back to the store

and got it for me.

Asked me for my number

when he returned.

I was in my early twenties.

I was young, dumb,

and gave him my number.

I kind of felt like I had to.

The parallels are kind of funny.

Written by AprilFool 🐸

It is miserable out;

my sweat has sweat.

My hair is sticky

atop my head.

I want to go home

but I want to be fed.

I want to go home

and I want to go to bed

but I know my room has heated

and that I dread.

It was hot all night,

while the living room stayed cool.

I was up and down,

on and off.

I still think I slept well,

though I am drained by the sun.

I am writing to pass the time;

listening to an audiobook for fun.

I will shower at my parents home

after I stop by mine

for some clothes.

Perhaps I will feel better

when I no longer

stick to everything.

Written by AprilFool 🐸

Some say she's their daughter.

Some say she's their lover.

Some say she's both.

You know how gods can be.

Some say she's the rock god

in a form never before seen.

Due to the majority of the

sacred scriptures being burnt

to a crisp, no one knows.

She comes out when it rains.

She shines like day.

Her hair long; wild and unruly.

Her dress is black and white.

Short and form fitting,

with a high neckline.

Rain falls upon her bare arms.

You can tell she is godly -

for she looks so devine.

If she is not naked,

she wears a variation

of said dress.

If bulky black shoes

are not worn upon her feet,

she is barefoot.

She drinks up the rain.

In it, she sways.

Dancing as her droplets

move with her tune.

The wind blows -

damp hair veils her face.

Her voice soft and sweet;

singing of salvation.

What a lovely thing.

Written by AprilFool 🐸