4:24 a.m
Life was giving Nekana quite the number of chances, yet she fails to fulfill or grab it. Resulting to a self-inflicted disappointment; aimed towards the brunette for her lack of consideration and ignorance. That was only one of the eventual feelings however, another was concerning the fact she felt (only) a slight bliss. An irrational happiness that swelled from the cores of her being, for being a bit rebellious, untamed by the rules set and given. No matter how lenient, it just felt rather pleasant in a sense.
The girl did not develop her act of ‘protest’; having said that she felt good being slightly rebellious. She indeed did, but Nekana knew of the limit which was obviously very close by. Her acts took no turns for the worse nor was it for the better. She maintained her everyday lifestyle that was as a matter of fact, normal. No climax in this story took hold, no sudden inspirations of genius nor a sudden fall of circumstance that would take her down into a place she may’ve declared ‘forbidden’.
Once upon a time and as always, she’d consider such. An exemplar of many, ‘what ifs’ were plentiful from where the brunette had come from. The beginnings of her time started out small, her alternate universe almost non-existent. Then came the books and her sentiment being. That progressed, alongside a variety of very disturbing yet pleasant state of mind. It was unknown if her thoughts had ironically developed due to the influence of what she’d read (which was a lot) or if it was just a gradual thing. Bound to occur and something already rooted into her very mind. Nekana’s bones, the hollow substance filled with information and imagination.
A mystery it was, Nekana would conclude that even the people (that amounted to hundreds with different storylines) in her mind knew her better than the brunette herself did. All reflected in their actions and personality, the spark in their eyes. In certain times, she was a potential (and yet to bloom) psychopath, in another she would be the happiest, most twisted being in existence. Slowly but surely she drifted as the brunette being Nekana always did; lost in thoughts that had no relation to the current topic whatsoever.
Never had Nekana understood, the possibility of falling asleep within the first 10 minutes. She couldn’t comprehend on how did it actually feel to go to sleep? She enjoyed the act of slumber, sure. In addition, the brunette also hated waking up if not from her own will. Yet, at the beginning of her ever repetitive process Nekana always faced that one problem of falling asleep. She had to literally replay the story-lines in her head over and over again, make new story-lines that included new characters and almost a dozen of freshly invented but overused magical beasts that were over-powered. After that, she’d contemplate the meaning of life 3 times; plus drowning in her own doubt and hope in humanity. Surely, before she could comprehend, the sun had risen bringing along the same problem of the discovery of falling asleep.
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These actions kept the girl occupied by the end of the day and Nekana admitted, it was indeed fun. Nothing exciting ever happens where she lived, special occasions said otherwise but it was often ordinary in every sense. Nekana indulged herself in books of fantasy or fiction for this very purpose. To escape. Never was it done on purpose but the girl had limited options boredom-killing wise.
Secluded in her very world Nekana herself was never included as she felt it weird. In her stead, characters of immortal existence took replacement and were often over-powered. Said batch of immortals were gifted a variety of emotions and each had their very own conflicts or agreements leading to their principles or morals. A garden whereupon the prettiest of flowers grew or the tallest of weeds. It could also be said as an herb garden, poisonous plants plentiful; equally deadly and all saving depending on the given circumstance. Apple trees that would represent a forbidden or valuable knowledge run through the center of the garden, casting a lake of claw shadows onto the grass. The fiery brilliance of several leaves is a sight: dashing-purples, vibrant-greens, scorching-oranges, burning-browns and molten-reds. Then they root themselves deeply into the moist and solid earth, settling in to their eternal life and rest.
Seasons were common like any other ideal enchantments that could be bestowed on; spring, summer, autumn and winter all went by the brunette’s mood. All whereupon equally beautiful. Butterflies of interference (by Nekana’s will) would flutter around the garden. Their pitch black or snow white wings streaked a variety of enchanting colours. Red and purple veins supported the said wings and they glowed a dim light. They held silver or gold bodies and their delicate antennas lined in similar colour; the tips particularly luminous. When night falls, which it often did sparks (of various colours) would fly. They dance playfully similar to those of a will’o’wisps and childish voices of fairies speak in incoherent unison.
It was these very worlds that she held great response, love and care for. The greatest delight and fulfillment that came from tending to such would indulge her to the very brim of her being. Nekana tended to these gardens and none would say otherwise. It was her precious as everyone had theirs; fictional or not.
It was her world, and there will be no one to intrude upon its sacred lands.