Soulsong Mini Prompts

Clink. Gala landed his feet gracefully on the ground, taking a look around. Good, he ended up right where he planned to. While he wasn’t set on exactly what he was planning on doing today in the Conservatory, he had made the journey correctly and that, for right now, was what mattered. Maybe he would simply sit and wait for someone to approach him, so that he could be the solid and upright sentinel that he always was. Or maybe he would seek out a group of esks, and sit in quiet contemplation as they told their stories, not interrupting nor speaking until invited. Either way, the future was quite uncertain, fickle and often had a mind of its own and could flip on a dime at any moment, so it was far better to plan for multiple situations, Gala presumed. There was no need to put all of one’s stock into any one particular outcome when that outcome didn’t even have any guarantee of becoming true. 

There were a few esks a bit of a journey away, and although Gala knew very well that he had the option to interact with them, he decided not to trod down that path. Something else was calling him. With a few more soft clinks, Gala’s feet moved him forwards, away from the esks that were talking in the valley below. Maybe today he would find somewhere quiet, somewhere he hadn’t seen before in the endless expanse of the Conservatory. There was always more to see, after all. Always some new esk coming in and filling the canvas that was the Conservatory with their memories, their ideals, their art, their stories. Gala had done a fair bit of that himself, telling his story to any esk who asked and was willing to listen, as well as always leaving a small touch of appreciation anywhere he went, often in the form of simply clearing up a space that was a little too wild, or removing something that was clearly out of place. It was the little things that mattered, sometimes, and Gala liked to show his appreciation by taking care of the little things. Just another day in the life, a way to be useful. It was something that Gala did outside of the Conservatory as well, but considering that he wasn’t outside of the Conservatory, he was in it, he decided not to concern himself with the matters of the outside world for now. 

Clink, clink, clink. The methodic, melodic glass sounds of Gala’s body seemed to carry far across the rolling hills that he now found himself in. The landscaping was beautiful; who had put it here? It was an unanswerable question, as there were no esks with which to consult, but still, Gala’s mind wandered. He couldn’t particularly help it, as it had a tendency to do so, reminiscing sometimes upon old memories that he thought were forgotten, or stories that some other esk had told that would apply particularly well to any given situation. There was always something to be learned, or taught, depending on the situation. Every moment was a teachable moment, and every circumstance, no matter how obscure, could be used to justify or point out something. That was simply the way that the world worked, although there didn’t seem to be much point in reflecting on it right at this specific moment, when Gala was just walking through some hills. It was somewhat silly, actually, that he had been considering that notion. No, nonsense. Nothing was silly, only slightly off track. He had lost sight of his original intention. What was he going to do? 

Was there even a point in deciding right this moment? Possibly, but also possibly not. Again, answers to subjective questions were fickle. They liked to dance around being true or not, being ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, proving a point or simply stating an opinion. There was nothing to be gained, except for wasted time, in analyzing Gala’s every thought process, although he was one to admit that he did analyze himself on a fairly regular basis. No one else needed to know that though, and as Gala walked away from the hills and into a manicured garden maze, he wondered who exactly had thought of placing this structure here.

Another unanswerable question, but Gala did enjoy both manicured mazes and the orderliness and satisfaction that came from solving a puzzle, so the answer could wait. Maybe he’d find the esk who created the maze and would be able to ask them for their story, their reason for creating this maze. Did it exist in real life? Or was this an original work? What defined originality when it came to a maze? There were only so many combinations of dead ends, like the one that Gala just walked down, and pathways, forks, manicuring styles… what really defined originality? There was a famous philosopher that Gala remembered from a discussion long ago. Raspberry tea, with copious amounts of sugar. The smell hit his nostrils instantly. No ideas were really original, according to Mark Twain, who was not a philosopher, but instead an author. Was there a significant distinction? Another dead end. 

Likely not, but philosophers didn’t have to come up with characters or storylines, or worry about audiences or becoming as wildly famous as some authors. Ah. Now Gala had figured out the patterning of the maze. A clever solution, but now that victory was assured, he could simply trot right throu- Dead end. More work was needed. Maybe he needed to backtrack. No, what a ridiculous conclusion. Backtracking in a maze was a surefire way of getting lost and confused. Gala clearly just needed to spend more time on the solution. So he sat, retracing his steps and creating a mental image of the maze. If that was laid out like that, then… Was that it? Was Gala really that close to the exit? If he was correct, then all it would take was a few turns, and he would be out. 

Clink, clink. Two turns. One right, the other left. And there Gala was, at the exit to the maze. There still wasn’t any esk to ask about the origin of the structure, but that was no matter. Content in his solution, Gala trotted onwards. Maybe it would be best to let the future take him where it may...