penlex

Everything was fuzzy and blurred. It was like there was thick wool all around her, blocking all of her senses. Sokka said something, somewhere. She couldn't tell which direction he was in. Was he close? Far away? She stumbled. The sand was hot and rough; she could at least tell that. She was very glad her feet were calloused and rough from so much barefoot walking, or they'd burn, blister, and tear. And then she'd really be in trouble. Not that she wasn't in trouble anyway. Stumbling around like she was blind. Because she was blind. Toph had spent all of her time with Aang, Katara, and Sokka convincing them she wasn't handicapped. They'd g

All things must have a beginning; every journey starts with the first step taken. Some beginnings are a breath of new life, some a death instead. Some stories start upon a spoken word, others with a song or with a dance. This story, the very first of all stories, begins with nothing. Nothingness, as beginnings, comes in many forms. There is the flat colorless nothing, the heavy and suffocating nothing, the nothing that is comfortable and soft. This story starts with none of these nothings. This nothing is deep and black and has only a feeling of loneliness. This nothing is blinding without brightness, deafening without sound. There is no up