ORIGIN: Draw a spiral and throw in a tentacle or four. Where there was a liver, now you have a fearless snail, ready and eager to take on the world.
Snails crawl at their own pace. Courage can’t be rushed. Your liver will get there eventually. I know your heart is in the right place. No one can blame you for all the little things that will have happened by the time that snail called courage finally finds its way to you.
Courage doesn’t have anything to do with it. People were burning knowledge long before I was born. There is something called human nature, it’s the reason we don’t learn from our own mistakes or anybody else’s. And I just don’t see the point of amassing knowledge in the absence of willingness to learn. I can’t give my life for such a worthless thing.
I don’t believe in anything. I don’t have it in me. I was born in the age of street lamps, not in the age of starry nights. If I could, I would retrace my steps. I would go back to the womb and retrace the tail of a shooting star. But I wasn’t born before my time, I was born long past it. My steps would lead me to the slime trail of a snail, where I would have no reason to put up a fight. Those that have been born before their time can blaze and, with any luck, find their people later in life. But I would be waiting in vain. Because the chances of a snail catching up to me are slim to none.
I don’t know why people call it an eye. That part a needle has always reminded me of a keyhole. When I finally learned to thread the needle my mother handed down to me, it was like being let in on a secret. My fingertips were covered in band-aids, but I couldn’t contain the smile on my face. It wasn’t long before I was replaced by something cold to the touch. I was gathering the courage to fight for what was mine, but that sewing machine didn’t bleed. It was over in the blink of an eye, that sewing machine didn’t make a single mistake. My mother told me to hold on to my smile. She told me that warmth would always be mine and mine alone. So, I put down my needle and moved on. But now there is no limit to what machines can be taught. And I don’t know where to go from here.
It takes courage to be yourself. But before you can find it, they throw you in a classroom and tell you who you are.
Is that a glint of courage I see in your liver? Snails have such a voracious appetite, do they not? It looks like their shell is about to burst at the seams, yet somehow it never does. Maybe that’s the reason questing knights always take their time. A chest full of courage has to be savored. Dragons aren’t in the habit of sparing feelings, and no one wants to see their courage crushed underfoot quite so soon.
Dragons are a classic for a reason. Our journey to the top started with the theft of fire. Animals have fangs and claws, and if we had fought tooth and nail, we would never have emerged victorious. We owe fire our edge. That’s the reason no spark can be left unstolen.
Clouds may look sturdier than air, but neither one is a place for castles. When the time comes to find your feet in the real world, they won’t do you any good. I couldn’t help building mine, I have yet to meet a child that can, but the first step to becoming a functioning adult is letting go of your childish hideaways. People are flawed. Dreams have no place down here, and you can’t live up there.
How could they lie to me? They told me that courage is everything. That a life lived in fear is not a life. But now that I have heard a siren song with my own two ears, I know that’s not true. Skill is everything. She didn’t miss a single note. She hit where it hurt most. Where she was sure to wreck my ship. I didn’t stand a chance. And I just don’t know what kind of life I am supposed to lead at the bottom of the ocean.
She was minding her own business. She would have kept minding it. In silence. Why didn’t anybody tell me that mandrakes never scream unless somebody pulls them from the ground? I was taught that they were a threat. But everything could have been avoided if we had kept to ourselves and our little patch of land.