Author's Notes: I'm alive! :)
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It was fall.
The trees were losing their leaves, already red, and preparing to sleep through the winter.
The sunflower spirit was all alone.
The wildflowers he usually spent time with were already asleep, seeds safe below ground.
Now, the sunflower spirit was very bored, as he was not quite ready to sleep yet.
The sunflower spirit thought, "What can I do to pass the time?" He looked upon the earth, almost frozen from the cold, and decided that he wanted to dig.
For the earth holds many secrets and stories long forgotten by the humans.
He extended his roots, gently feeling around the dirt, feeling the insects crawl and feeling loose coins in the topsoil. But the sunflower spirit felt something new in the earth.
He felt something inorganic in the soil, something from the human world.
He grasped the object with his roots, bringing it to the surface.
On the first day, the sunflower spirit found a pair of glasses.
The sunflower spirit was intrigued. He knew their purpose, but he had never held a pair in his own hands before. They were broken, but one lens was still intact. He peered through it, but it only made the world look foggy and unclear.
He placed them in the heart of his sunflowers, to keep them safe.
The sunflower spirit was both terrified and fascinated by his discovery.
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On the second day, the sunflower spirit found a jacket.
This puzzled him.
He did not recognize the jacket from any of the citizens that passed by his garden, nor the soldiers that marched by in rows of guns.
A large, "50" adorned the back. Nimble hands explored the coat, running through the fur lining near the collar and ghosting over the worn leather on the exterior.
The sunflower spirit discovered a small tag on the inside of the jacket. He opened it, reading the foreign letters, "MADE IN AMERICA".
His keeper of the gardens had taught him the letters and words of the human world.
He remembered her sad, nostalgic smile when she taught him Russian, and her hopeful eyes when she taught him English.
The spirit placed the jacket next to his flowers, folding it as neatly as he could.
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On the third day, the sunflower spirit found a gun.
The object was in perfect condition, still polished and shiny, only marred by specks of dirt.
He turned the gun over in his hands, admiring the sleek design and sharp corners. The sunflower spirit had seen the soldiers use guns before, but not quite like this one.
Imitating the soldiers, he pulled at the gun until a small compartment opened, spilling forth a small treasure of metal cylinders.
Bullets?
The sunflower spirit was familiar with what bullets could do.
He cautiously placed them in his flower bed, the pointed side facing the sky. He then placed the gun beside its bullets.
The spirit quelled the unpleasant feeling in his gut.
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Author's Notes: These were a bit short, so I decided to clump them together. I don't think you'd appreciate getting like fifty emails that I've updated this story with like five words.
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I love you all :B