Blinding rays of sunlight filtered through the dense green leaves of a tall oak. It stood firmly, but peacefully, at the edge of a little garden. It looked positively striking as it towered above the little white cottage with a shingled roof, rounded windows and a small yellow door (paint peeling, looking rather in disarray). In fact, no one inhabited the small house. Its rooms had been devoid of human company for years, though little furry animals would often scamper in doors to escape the heavy rainfall that came yearly, shaking the dense oaks and flooding the loose soil. Spiders spun their silky webs in the crevices around the cottage, enticing little insects with the glitter that bounced off their shiny threads. The little garden next to the cottage exploded with life. Its sprawling flowers and weeds battled for glory and arched their backs, faces pointed towards the sun, graceful warriors. A small brook bubbled as little pebbles bounded through the water. Small guppies swam through the clear, freshwater as their scales glinted in the pressing sun. The air was hot and steamy, peaking at 112º Fahrenheit around noon and cooling to no less than 80º Fahrenheit at sundown. In general, life was peaceful. It trickled by like the brook, as time passed calmly through, on friendly terms with most of the area's inhabitants. New births were warmly welcomed with gifts and dancing, and death was mourned but also celebrated – another beginning, never an ending. Though this life appealed to most inhabitants, not everyone was satisfied.

A brown, fluffy squirrel lay on an oak branch, pelting acorns to the ground. She felt disgruntled, and nervous. Growing up around constantly happy faces, happy people, no worries. She was sick of it. Feeling tired, she rolled over onto her back and sighed. Why can't I just be normal like everyone else? Why aren't I happy? Being born into an easy life shouldn't be a thing to complain about, she knew. Her mother, father, brothers, cousins…They constantly berated her on her glum attitude and she understood: what is there to complain about? Even she didn't know. Yet, this was her life. She would gather her acorns (one thing that made her happy, made her feel more satisfied) and eat them. When that still didn't alleviate her aching soul, she would throw them to the ground, and ponder the afterlife. If it's so good, why can't I just…

Hattie!" A sharp, female cry startled her almost out of her branch. Its origin became known to her at once: Tam. From a higher branch to her left, Hattie peered at the overtly perky squirrel that said her name. Tam was light brown, with a pinkish sort of glow. She had a bubbly personality and constantly tried to make Hattie smile. It usually just made her feel queasy in her stomach, but today she was unusually bored and unusually willing for company.

Tam." Hattie tried to smile up to her friend, her bulging cheeks creasing into a grimace.

Where have you been all day, silly? Day-dreaming?" Tam's voice seemed concerned, but, well, that was Tam.

No. Uh…I mean yeah, I guess." The afterworld could be like a dream, thought Hattie shrewdly, only better. Much, much better.

Nightfall brought the murmur of content, snoring little creatures. Crickets chirped as they danced the night away, ants huddled together in their farms, saving energy for the next day's storage-run and a hush more or less fell over the sleepy garden. But something was amiss.

As Hattie dosed in a fitful, dreamless sleep, another part of her (a much darker, unknown part) awoke. Her eyes flicked open, but this part of her wasn't aware of the glittering stars above or the moon that hung, pale and protective. It didn't see the gnarled oak branches, nor the spiky green leaves. It didn't feel the rustle of whispering winds, nor the cold, dewy earth that licked at Hattie's heals. It saw another world: the world of Dust.

Hhhhungryyyy… A moan escaped its thin, pinkish lips. It wobbled on its feet, sucking the air around it. Hhhuunnnngrryyyy….

But what was it? And, more importantly, what of Hattie? Before finding this out, reader, you must first venture into the land of Dust. Picture its many faded landscapes. Rushing rivers that trickle into gray puddles, mountains that crumble into boulders, rolling into sand. Sandstorms that rattle and rush, whooshing over the dry, desolate terrain. And souls. Millions, if not billions, of sad, out-of-place souls, wandering the barren landscapes.

Some are fully formed, solid-looking. They walk with an even gait, almost looking sure of themselves. Others wither and waste away, clawing at the air, frantically scraping at the dirt, feeling nothing but an empty, dull void. They breathe, but they don't need to. They see, hear, think…but feel nothing. Some take on very similar characteristics to when they were alive. Yes, were alive. These creatures are neither fully living nor fully dead. They can't move on. No, they are not ghosts. Ghosts are merely memories. They are…dust. It is the only way, and yet the most complicated way to describe them. Sad, really. But not all is lost.

Travel past the mountains, the rivers, the valleys, the brooks, the oceans, the lakes, the fields, the cities and to an open bare chunk of land. Nothing grows here, not even the wisps of flowers that were. Just dirt, sandy dirt. No wind disrupts this area, and barely any long-term Dustlings stray this far. To the South, East and West, Dust stretches, long and desolate. Longing. But to the North, a tall, rusty gate looms ominously, shrouded in fog and an air of uncertainty. Faelyrne guards the gate. She is the keeper of knowledge, weaver of tales, and the Fae that guards Dust and those inside. It is her job to keep the Dust in and the rest of the world out.

It is a lonely job, but necessary. Many Dustlings want to escape. Don't understand. Need to move on. She explains to them, best she can (for knowledge of the next step, of moving on, is scarce and rarely true), but some don't listen. They try, mercilessly to escape. Very rarely do they succeed. Others want to get in. Dust's cosmos is parallel to the one We call home. It is also parallel to many other worlds, many yet unknown to Us. Not many want to get into Dust (except the soul-eaters, but they have their own special ways), nor do many know what it is. Nevertheless, some stragglers find their way onto the premises and Faelyrne must direct them to their proper destinations.

In the past, many realms were linked to a sort of tube-transportation system. The universe was more easy-going then, and souls, beings, creatures…they all knew how to interact peacefully. When the soul-eaters came, everything changed. Monsters began forming, people began to fade away. Dust (as we now know it) was born. Though remnants of the old system remain, the tubes are old, and probably not functioning anymore. Soul-eaters, at least, don't use them. They just appear.

No entry this week….or the next! :P

Thanks to everyone for all the votes. :) Hattie won her first trophy on 8/28/09 and will be gold-banned until December. :o