Memories are my treasure

I arrived late, alighted from my National Express carriage and found a seat to rest my cramped limbs. The bus station was abuzz with Scotsmen shouting drunkenly. A man, sounding like an Australian, sat down opposite me. "Hello". "Hello". He wasn't Australian, he was born in London but had gained 18 years of a Texas hint. He said he'd missed his bus. I commented on how comfortable the cold metal chairs would be and chuckled. He said I had a bad sense of humour for laughing at other people's suffering, then he winked. We talked. He said he wanted to meet a girl, go out and just have a fun time. I hoped it would happen for him. He wanted that girl to be me. I would have liked that girl to be me, but somewhere along the way the time-keeper had got things wrong. He took my hand and kissed it. He said he hoped we would meet again, in the next life, when the clockmaker will be more efficient, and he asked if I'd like to meet him there? After a short gasp, I asked the same question to my heart? "Yes, I would. I really would." He told me if we both wanted it to happen then it would happen. Another kiss on the hand, and a farewell. I watched him walk away, and before going out of sight, he turned around, our eyes locked, causing my lips to smile. That moment lasts forever. But it was over so quick. He was gone.

And in walked my friend who oblivious to what had happened. Life grabbed my hand that had just been kissed and it marched on.

Deep in the forest

One decadent December day, Johhny was on his way to visit his mother. Monsters line the path, some named Greed and Fear, others Envy and Worry. They clawed at the poor boy, their fangs piercing his skin. But every once in while he'd spot a small opening where the sun shone through, where the greenery glowed and the air was scented with Glade freshness. Johhny would stop in these places, lie back, feeling the moist emerald moss cushioning his body into the earth. And he'd relax, freely allowing himself to be part of nature for a while. Deer would wander past, not fearing him in the slightest. Bees buzzed by, but Johhny didn't mind, afterall he was in their home. He'd fall asleep and dream of sweet maidens, dancing and singing, loving and caring, playing and giggling. He dreamt and the dreamt, but nothing was remembered once he'd awoke. Then one day a real maiden slowly walked into the forest, stopping to smell every humble flower along the way. He was spellbound.

And so the story goes, happily ever after.