I Think It's So Adorable That Early Humans Took Wild Gourds - A Tiny Fruit That Hollows Out As It Dries,

You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. “I give them food, they give me company,” you’d say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, “A neighbor plots against you, my lord.”

When we passed a sick rosebush, I sacrificed some life force, only enough for it to get back to perfect health.

The nymph hugged me as tight as she dared. I could see that she was on her way to become compost while she was sick.

"Did you help another plant?" the highwayman questioned after I convinced the nymph to go back to her plant.

"How could you tell?" I didn't bother trying to lie. He always knew when I was being honest and when I wasn't.

"Your breathing is labored and you're slightly shaking," he just as easily answered while he started setting up camp. He looked up at me and with some hidden compassion requested, "Have a seat."

I sat on a slightly slopped rock and waited for him to say or do something.

We sat for a few moments in silence while he cooked some fish. Was he cooking for himself?

"Here," he said after pulling out a ceramic plate and a fork before handing the plated fish to me.

I knew he knew how I regain lost life by eating cooked animal meat. Being gracious and grateful, I nibbled on what he prepared for me. I also wondered when he was planning on leaving.

"I'm not going anywhere until you've finished your meal," the highwayman assured me.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He gave a small smile, "I can wait until dusk for a meal." He looked like he has been in this situation before.

"Do you have enough for yourself?" If he was going to go hungry, then I wasn't going to have all of the fish.

"I'm always prepared, so yes, I have food for myself as well." His eyes drooped a little, his posture slouched, and his head nodding off a little.

I nibbled slowly enough that he fell asleep while he waited for me. When I finished my cooked fish, I have took off my cloak and tucked it around him.

It has been a long day for him.

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

A basic point of Solarpunk is it's focus on local communities. So, get to know your communities!

Local Politics

How does your local Govenment work? Who are the people involved in it?

What is the main political climate and view in your area?

What are the most active community organisations?

What are Grasrootmovements in your areas?

Are there known leftist organisations or communities?

Local Infrastrucure

Libraries and Archives

independent buisnesses like bakerys, bookstores etc

central community centres

Thrift stores

Nature preservation centres or organisations

Food kitchens

package-free and bulk stores

Local Newspapers

Bus lines and scedules

Bike repair shops

Queer Bars and Centres

Tailors and shoe repair shops

abandoned or empty buildings/ properites

Local History

How did people live in your area 50 Years ago? 100? 200? 500? What are their trades, culture, how did they get their food?

What is the geological and ecological history of your area? The quality of the soil? The availability of water? Local Plants?

What are some major historical events your area went through? How did they shape the peoples point of view?

What are the oldest buildings in Town? Research the architecture and building materials, as they commonly are localy sourced and help with sustainable building in your area!

These are just some ideas so please feel free to add!

As I walked out under the night sky, I muttered a prayer. It wasn't continuous but mainly when ever I saw something that caught my eye, I'd say a quick little thank you prayer for it being created.

When I'd get back from my walks, I always felt better and ever grateful.

The constant clatter of swords and the elegant movement always calmed me. The twirl here and a parry there.

The extra weight of the graceful blade felt like it was natural.

But life can't always be this way can it? Somehow, either you or someone else gets hurt. I guess you can only choose your actions and words carefully to minimize the damage.

Great. I was on my way from the capital and one of those clockwork soldiers stopped me.

"Where are you going?" it asked as it stopped me from going any further.

I've been warned that there's still one functional at all times. I didn't know what time it was, so it might not be that one.

"What hour are you?" Every clockwork soldier works only during the hour it was named after. There are some that I think are either decoys or meant to scare people, since they never work.

"I am hour thirteen," it answered me, its empty eyes boring into mine.

This one, number thirteen, people have named the liar. No matter what it says, it is never true. I've met it once before and it said that it was going to snow in the middle of summer.

"I'm going home," I replied to the soldier. It's the law for citizens to answer human and clockwork soldiers.

There was a sound of clicking gears before it cocked its head off to the side and said, "Long live the King."

"Yeah," I muttered, walking by once he let me pass, "long live the King of the Day."

Its cold metal hand grabbed my wrist.

"Yes, long live the King of the Day. But I originally meant his brother."

The King's brother is a myth, a legend, something that never has and never will happen.

The clockwork soldier numbered thirteen let me go.

The cracking rumble of thunder mixed with the soft, warm kisses of the rain is a better combination than you might think. I don’t like chasing storms but I appreciate the ones that come through where I live.

I love the majesty of them all, especially thunderstorms. I used to be afraid of them but now, if I let them, they’ll easily put me to sleep.

The only time I am truly afraid of storms is when the clouds touch the ground. I’m protected by hills and mountains so those storms don’t happen too often.

I have wondered if being in the presence of a thunderstorm is like being in the presence of the king? Where some might find him intimidating while for others he’s soothing.

If I got the pleasure of meeting him, I think I would really like him. I’m not saying that only because I’m one of his subjects but also because I think I would be one of the ones that finds comfort in him.

I wonder.

Where I'm from, myths have a habit of being true. One such myth is that the moon can grant wishes. People typically make wishes on one particular day but every once in a while, someone makes a wish on a different day.

For that one day, though, it is almost all children who make those wishes. Occasionally, an adult will drum up enough courage to leave a wish for the moon to grant.

The moon does what she can to grant the wishes but she'll only grant the wishes that are pure at heart and for the betterment of the person who wished.

"Is there anyway I can help?" I asked the ever patient moon on one particular night.

"If you have nothing to do, you could stay with me," came her soft whisper. "I like your company."

I chuckled as I sat down beside the alter. "Any interesting wishes?"

"They are all interesting and unique," she answered.

I furrowed my brows. "Don't most of the kids just ask for toys, though?"

"Yes, but those toys help the become someone unique."

Resting my head against the cool stone, I requested of the moon, "Could you explain how?"

Images of a wooden sword flashed across my mind as she answered, "The boy who will get this could become one of your greatest generals." Next, a combination of random metal parts and wooden puzzle pieces appeared in my head. "The one who receives this could be a mechanic that will invent revolutionary equipment." She went on for a few more moments after that.

I couldn't stop the smile or the tears. How could I have been so blind? "That was wonderful. Thank you for explaining that to me."

"It was a pleasure. But promise me one thing."

Even though she wasn't there, I looked up. "Anything."

"Promise me you won't underestimate the value of a gift. Even if it seems insignificant and useless to you, that could be the thing that sets the recipient on the right path for their life."

"I promise."

"Alright," the stranger sighed, "what's with the orange peels?"

I was laying some fragments of orange peels out to dry for black gold and others near some potted carnivorous plants that needed to be fed.

"Black gold," I said as I pointed to the ones drying on the sunlit stone. "Plant food." I pointed to the other peels that were already attracting flies.

"I thought that those plants didn't like any nutrients in their soil," he remarked as he gracefully draped himself across a fallen log in the shadow of a large maple. "And I though that you hated potting plants."

"They don't. But they still need food, just not food like the others." I sat down not too far from him, in the shade too. "I don't like potting plants but a kid asked me for a plant that wasn't like any others."

"So, obviously, you chose..." he propped himself up, "what is that, anyway?"

"Dionaea. A fly trap." I cast my gaze back to the potted plant that just caught a decent size fly. "I had to do a lot of trading to get a hold of that plant."

"If it was such a hassle to get, why did you?"

"The kid was curious about the world outside our boarders." I looked him dead in the eyes and told him, "Tell me how I could have said 'no'." I settled in a position similar to his. "When I see the kid again, I plan on giving it to him as a gift."

After I said that, he settled back down on his log, lost in thought.