Call of the Wind: LuneHolly led autumn to yet another one of the many tall piles of trash in the Junkyard. As the orange Eevee stopped to look at it from afar, she could see there was a gaping hole beneath it, much like the pile where Storm had been."Come on!" Holly motioned with her leaf-tail for Autumn to follow. "In here!"Holly ducked under the low entrance as Autumn followed her under. The green Leafeon stepped aside once they were both inside so the Eevee could see. This pile was hollow also, like the sleeping den had been. This one somehow hollow all the way to the top, much like a volcano, The other pile had a ceiling that had not been much higher than Autumn. Autumn Winds looked up and could see that there was a hole in the very top of this pile, and also a ladder which led up to the hole had been stationed in the middle of the room."This is the sentry tower." Holly said as she walked towards the ladder. "Come on up!" Holly's glasses flashed as she turned around and began to climb the ladder. Aut
Call of the Wind: Storm"Oh that's
" Holly sighed."Who?" the orange Eevee's eyes were still wide even after the grey Glaceon had scared her out of the den beneath the pile of garbage."Storm." The green Leafeon explained, "That grey Glaceon. Her name's Storm. Don't worry though, she's always like that.""Why?" Autumn Winds asked. "Why'd she growl at me?""It's all because of what happened in her past." Holly said. "All of us here have harsh pasts. Mint, Flint, Ivory, Storm
and the others.""What happened to her?" Autumn was getting tired of asking so many questions, but she needed answers."Storm wouldn't tell anyone what happened to her, but after asking around the city, we pieced her story together." Holly started telling the story."Storm was apparently born to Pokemon breeders. A Pokemon Trainer owned her and her parents. She was born oddly-colored; grey. But her Trainer thought she was just a Shiny Eevee, because those are grey also, but they look a bit different. Her Trainer real
The Mind of a CreatorCreativity flows from the mind like wind on a meadow green.Colors and pictures explode from a pencil when inspiration takes.Artists see the world as it is meant to be seen.Ability, not a creator makes.Art could be whatever the mind decides.It is creating worlds for others to see.A masterpiece interpreted and creator abides.Or a three letter word with "a", "r" and "t".To the creator, inspiration can be any one thing.Anyone can create, no matter the way.We all have something to give, a change to bring.Everyone is a creator, making the new day.Artists need not to breathe, to live,Art is their life, their gift is to give.