Reminiscence

(A/N This was the first thing I ever wrote in English, about two years ago. I found it on my Goodreads profile recently and decided to post it here, leaving it as unedited as it came. I've done some things with it since, it's different now, but have a glimpse at what my writing looked like back then anyway.)

^

He stands in the forest, all alone and just enjoying the moment. No one is close, no one disturbing the silence and peace of the nature around him. He can see every tree; each transparent and white as snow, with thin veins of dark purple running through its core, visible just now and then. The leaves are also purple, but as they fall down to the ground they change tens of colours, turning instantly into ashes as they touch the land.

Butterflies tiny as grains of dust raise from the ashes. Their wings and bodies growing as they fly back up into the trees, changing slowly to birds as he watches them. The birds sit on the branches and sing, so quietly they not for a moment disturb the symphony of the blowing wind.

He closes his eyes, letting himself to fly away with the notes. He inhales a deep breath, smelling both sweet flowers and bitter fruit, in shape of a tear and hanging from a branch too high for him to reach. Feeling that overwhelms him is both light and heavy, both happy and sad, both dark and illuminating.

"Lord Alistair, um.. sir?"

He opens his eyes, observing for a moment as the forest around him loses the magic and again appears to be no more than just a forest. Than he answers, without looking at a butler standing behind him.

"If my father wants something from me, tell him I'm busy."

"It's time for your medicine, my lord", replies the old butler of Alistairs', obviously used to his master's reactions. "You know you have to take it."

/I know the way I see the world without it is worth every minute lost/, thinks the young lord, though he accepts the glass from his butler's hand. Mixed with lemon juice, as always, he knows the drug has a taste he dislikes. He slowly brings it to his mouth and than drops it on the ground, too unexpectedly for butler to do anything. The glass crashes, juice spilling around his feet. The young lord sighs, though his dark blue eyes are shining.

"It must be the illness made me clumsy", he says, carefully observing his butler's face as it turns almost as pale as his own.

"I didn't know", he whispers.

"Now, I'm sure mother must have told you", replies lord Alistair, turning his back to him and hiding a small, somewhat evil smile. "I do for sure know she'll be mad finding out you weren't listening." He continues, playing with his hair as he talks. "Nothing will happen if I don't take it once, and it will spare you the trouble with your lady. I do believe you do not want to make my mother angry or worried, yes?"

"Most certainly, my lord", says the butler, so loyal and honest young lord almost feels sorry for him. "But.. are you sure?"

He turns back to the butler, stretching his lips into a smile.

"More than sure. As I'm concerned, the thing is solved."

He watches as the butler leaves, mostly lost in his thoughts. What they all call hallucinations and are trying to destroy by medicine and various therapies he finds pointless, he believes to be glimpses into the world far better than the one he's living in. A world filled with magic and adventures, as well as emotions he knows only from books, so beautiful and enchanting mortals are forbidden to enter. Permission to take that away from him, nor his mother nor anyone else simply don't have.