t o o , t w o

Divinities sang of a place where evil did not touch, where greed ran for the hills and ill-will did not survive the night.

Once upon a time, he knew it was right.

The well knew it was right, and told him of this place as it lullabied him to sleep.

Eternal sleep that he longed for, but did not wish of. Deep inside the well might have picked it up, but tossed away such a thought with less interest.

He had picked it up again with buckets of love.

Sleep held him in its sickly embrace, but he longed for the infection of lost time, and the well granted, as it always did.

He was grateful, hysteria lost its grip on the man-child.

He was not summoned as a child. Hindering life such as prideful upbringing and feelings of mutual respect fought away the wishing well's advances.

No rush was put upon him as it lie in wait.

The wishing well was patient with all its children.

It held them for lack of arms, it loved them for lack of emotion. It wished upon them its greatest joys.

The more they are given, the greedier children became, and the wishing well loved its wanting adolescences.

When the time was right he would meet the sister he crawled towards, just as the well had envisioned.

Lying away from the past's memories, he enjoyed the crackle of his burning greed.

The wishing well knew better than any that the place of its lullaby was long out of reach.