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Dear Diary,
As many times as I have left before, the look in their eyes...
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The small living cave had been full of nothing but the quick unheard paths of a brush upon paper for many hours, traveling far into the night.
Mokey sat cross-legged on her bed with Lanford's pot resting nearby as her hand traveled over the width of the dozen papers pined to wall, filling in an imaginary sky with shades of blue and purple.
Mokey's friends, as long ago as her painting had began, had left her to think about her serious decision, as was fraggle custom with anything serious. Part of that custom, everyone knew, was the great hope that a fraggle might change their mind at the last moment....
But to Mokey, somehow, every layer of paint seemed to strengthen her resolve.
"But..still…that still doesn't look quite right does it?" She asked her pet plant gently.
"Rr?" Lanford replied, opening his mouth with the edge of a cough.
" You're right, it does need clouds! How could we forget clouds?"
Mokey mixed more water into the palette of countless hues, adding wisps of cloud like light pieces of lace over dry patches of sky.
"Do you remember Lanford? Do you remember the wind?"
The flytrap sighed, giving his shrunken head a low dipping shake.
"Oh of course you do…I know
I do…"
The smallest of melodies, like a chain of tiny bells, filled the cave as she painted steadily, Lanford's weak gaze following the brushes movements.
Hello world…
I miss you every day…
The paintings landscape began from the left with a curricular stone framed section of the lower rock, where Gobo and the rest swam happily in the fraggle pond and branched off from there to dark gray limestone curtains.
The darkness that came afterward was alive with paint eyes, bloodshot and hungary, and farther still, the banks of what looked like a wide river.
As the path went on, the rock walls and ceiling to one side opened, letting in the view of the sky.
I remember your sun as you called me out to play…
Do you still have your mountains?
Mokey painted over the orb for the sun again, giving it a finely detailed swirl the glowed down upon small weaved huts at the base of what looked like trees, but were so large that the roots themselves drew out of the earth like branches.
And your stars in an endless sky?
Have your trees grown taller?
With a sweep of golden brown, the light outline of a rope bridge over a deep canyon was shaded the light of the sun, before leading off into the side of a valley, dotted with wildflowers and small fraggle holes carved into the outside of the rock.
Have your fish learned how to fly?
The picture of this final place on the collage of water and berry juices was painted in the darkened appearance of night, the ground full of odd looking ground ivy and plants of all sorts, many covered in thorns.
You know world… how I miss you everyday…
Lanford looked up with a weak breath, his unseen eyes fixed on the last part of the painting, as his once large mouth came to rest on the outline of something within the brambles with a warm purr.
But why must you always take my friends away?
World, say you'll stay... but please, don't take my friends away…
The sound of a cup of water and a paint brush falling with a ring of wood upon stone was the last sound the ditsies soaked up for the night in the small cave, their flame like magic making the finished picture almost dance in light.
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