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The Plum Tree

Once upon a time....there once lived two common folks. One of the two was an evil sorcerer who specialized in enchantments and brewing. Now he was no different than any other evil-doer. He robbed, murdered and destroyed, many lives. The other one was a laddie, girl. She was nothing special to say, just a young broken heart. Even for someone as broken as her still loved true and with no conditions.
Now these one young evening frogs sang in their tiny jungles under the sea of trees where brightly colored ribbons hung, birds played the trumpets for the occasion, and young hairs galloped through the grass where they led the parade. Not far from the scene laid a man, the same man from the beginning of this story, but today he was not creating chaos or evil. Today he was relaxing under a plum tree watching the scene with a slight smile on his face for even he could see the beauty.
Now with all come things comes an opposing force, right? So to make this graceful scene a little less peaceful two young adults came out of the tree talking loudly about politics and of who they loved. Annoyed the man acted like he was sleeping and soon they shushed and whispered.
It had worked he thought.
At a moment the young lad came crashing into the sorcerer and they braced one another awkwardly.
“Oh my! I am so sorry my dear sir! My friend has a tendency to do childish things!” as she said this the man melted. Her beautiful brown eyes were a maze and he couldn’t escape them.
Now as we know he was evil, and evil always has a way with words so thus he spoke, “Don’t be sorry my dear lady, but if you would like to make it up to me maybe you could sit and talk to me about politics and life's subjects, or maybe just lay with me and watch the beautiful picture play out in front of us.”
And with that, they were chatting about poetry and he listened to her tales of the past. What he didn’t know is that he was falling deeply for this young girl, and once they stopped talking they planned to talk again. After they talked again, they planned to talk again, and the pattern repeated. After a few weeks of this pattern she asked him when he was going to make his move, and at that, he warned her of his past and the dangers of loving him, but for she did not care about the danger, only the love he had for her.
Now as the story goes they stayed with one another for many years through the good and the bad. She learned of the evil that dwelled in his skin and he learned of the power that love has over evil. She showed him the beauty of the world and how powerful he was...She showed him, true love. For years he had tried to make potions that had this same effect, but never did it work to this degree and now here it was. Something no potion could ever replicate. Now the story does not end there for he is evil, and evil does not get a happy ending. Now his love for her never changed, but it would soon end his happiness. Laster on problems started to appear. Soon deep dark demons trapped in the man confronted him and the promised of a fairer lady, perfect in every way. Now he protested over and over for weeks but the grim council in his head said otherwise, and soon he traveled to find this young gal. What he didn’t know was he was playing the demon's hand perfectly and kept hitting for more cards from the dealer when his hand was already twenty-one. Now that he had taken the bust and took his third card he played it like he hadn’t. Soon he followed a path of destruction and mayhem. The love he once had was breaking apart, and like this story is written in ink so was his mistake. Following this path soon showed his mistake in how the demons had been trying to turn him to ruins, and they did it so preciously perfect. Soon she was gone and he no longer saw the world as beautiful, or talked of poetry or tried to do good. Instead, he dreamed of the days he had her, and he tried every potion he knew to take away the pain and everything to go back in time. With no success, he gave up and dreamed of a better place, dreamed of a place for his soul to reap what it planted in life, Death.
At night he screamed out and begged for forgiveness, but the still wall sat in confusion. Promised all that he could, but still, the wall wouldn’t budge as he pounded his fist against the stone.
Every night when the world's fireplace ran out of fuel and the darkness grew stronger demons would appear and tell him ways to get rid of his pains. They told him how in life he would take a blade for her and that now would be a great time to prove take a blade to the heart, for her. Every time he screamed out against the demons and fought for the memory of his beautiful kind lady. Even for as strong as he was soon he would give up and soon he would decide that they were right and that night he walked to the palm tree where they used to see her and he wrote…

Black stars dot the white light,
as the white stars shine in the dark.
For the only difference is color
none else
For white could not exist without black;
as evil could not exist without truth;
Pain without healing;
As I cannot live without you;
my healing; my truth;
my life; my other half without you…

As he stared up at white stars in the dark black sky and thought and wrote and let everything go and as he wrote the lines become more and less legible. Soon he got the strength again to right…

Once upon a time...a long time ago in this man's head, he dreamed of going back in time to fix his dreams and remove the rain clouds that climbed over him.
In this dream he had fixed his mistake, he had fought off his demon and would not accept the serpents red apple, would not again fail his love. In this timeline, his evil ways were lost in the oceans of love he felt. For years they loved one another till they turned gray, but their love for another did not fade like them…

The bright light of the beautiful light now stood above his head standing tall and shimmering bright, the bright stars light felt like love...the light was moving and ringing in his ears, grew louder, his name called over and over in his mind; none of this mattered though cause the pain he felt lessened into nothing and the voices drowned out for the last time, and before the light went black he heard a wave of voices that didn’t sound like the demons.
A voice drained out screaming, and he could feel the warm hand on his open black hole where his heart once was. As the blurry light became clear he finally noticed it wasn’t a light at all but her...His heart ached and croaked while red tears drained the color of his skin and at last he spoke his last words.
“Can we go back to the afternoon, that fine summer day, where frogs sang, and birds played trumpets, and bunnies lead the parade?”.
Now the original writer of has gone away to a secret place where none spoke  ill over the dead and the new writer read his story and continued his story for him and at the end she wrote…
“Where banners were thrown and hung from the trees from the distant low hanging plum tree where love was new and nothing seemed to be wrong on that beautiful day…”

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