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The Great Root Crossing

 I visited the Great Root Crossing. Idoltus always led with “Great” on new things. The Great Palace, the Great Capital, the Great Empire. Now it was the Great Root crossing. Give it a few years, a few new projects and it will just be called the Root Crossing, just like the Palace, the Capital, the Empire. But yes, I saw it. It was not done when I visited. It still had a number of years of singing left to turn it into the thing that Idoltus dreamed it to be. The project had burned through a number of singers, but the few that Idoltus hand picked to lead the project still remained. These he believed could see his dream. And a singer that can visualize a dream can bring it to life.  I saw it, the Crossing and the dream. And that's when I lost faith. Or at least that's when I began to doubt. Idoltus wanted the area around the Root Crossing to be clear cut. He wanted the bridge, and its four pillars, two on either side of the SongRok, to tower over everything around them. He wanted...
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My Digging Arm

I have discovered, in the quiet, that I am being listened to. And in silence, I am being spoken to. I can tell, even alone, that the words I speak to myself fail to capture what I think. My parents could say much more with their words, but I cannot. I speak my half thoughts and they are heard, the other half filled in. 

It would not be hard to find place in the woods. Many villages I know of, and a far greater number are throughout the VitchWood here, far outside the eyes of the silver-clad El. But I feel, I know, that is not where I belong.  

My body is growing into a shape that I do not recognize. Some nights, I awaken in a fit, my right arm bruised in it's attempt to dig itself, and me, into the soil. Even through solid stone my fingernails will be worn down and my finger tips bloodied trying to find purchase in the rock. 

Beyond just my arm, my being, twisted in its dual capacity seeks to be buried beneath the dirt. Now I feel the urge to satisfy this alien craving, to satiate the simple pulse emanating from my right forearm. I need a home. I need to find it's home. 

Something calls to me far from my little valley home. There seems a great wound in the ground that begs me to it. That clawing, digging sense of mine drives me there. And I must fulfill it's hunger. 
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