Scribble: Battle no more, ye weary traveler.

      Worn, weary, her armor dented and broken, she stood, gazing out over the golden fields before her. Her auburn hair dancing in the breeze, the knight pulled the tatters of her cloak ever tighter, unwilling, or far too afraid, to release her grip on the chipped, streaked blade clenched in her hand. Above her head, wooden branches, yet to be barren of their leaves, creaked with the wind's gentle footsteps, as unseen birds escaped to safer homes.
      In the distance, clouds began to part, as the golden fields shimmered in the coming light. Far off in the distance, the barking of farming dogs ushered-in the new day, heralds to the sounds of sickles and scythes soon to come.
      A single tear rolled down her scarred and sun-kissed cheek. Home, she thought, a weak smile slipping onto her face.
      The battered sword fell to the ground, a sharp metal clang drowned-out by the new day's birth...

Scribble: Listening to Euphoria's "Butterfly Track."

      Fluttering around, little flashes of silver-blue, drifting along unseen currents of air.
      Pouncing all about, determined little eyes flashing and narrowing, scampering just below.
      Floating skyward, bursts of spirited giggles, smiling brightly just a little while away.
      Petals unfurl, clouds part, green floods the landscape.
      Ah, spring!

Scribble: The sailor's return.

      Stepping onto the paved walkway, he stared at the house before him, as if lost in dream.
      Opening the door, a woman whose face seemed at once so familiar, yet so new, stared back through watery eyes.
      Dropping his satchel, he ran to her, raindrops flowing down his cheeks with each step.
      And yet, no writer alive could speak of how long they embraced...