The King of Kids.

        Do you remember what it was like to be a child? to dream undeterred by learned reservations, freely from the heart; and to learn time and again what it means to be "small"? of course not; Your dreams are put away, with all your other childish things, while you try your best to act "adult," just like everyone shows you how.

        we will start in the same place so many children's dreams do: the forest. a quiet day, the sun peaks through the treetops like rays of joy, and there is plenty of soft open space for your dreams to lay around, take their time and enjoy themselves; but i'm sure you've probably seen a forest or two, enough that i need not spend a moment longer to establish the setting than to say: trail, clearing, bench.

        the bench had a boy on it, and the boy had a hat on it; a simple cap reading "NPC." the boy had come there to pray, as he often had, in his own way. not to any known god, by him or any other, but merely to enjoy the ritual. the bench was his temple, beneath it lay past tribute, stone and stick of either aesthetic or interest. he had a habit in the forest, that he neither shared nor explained with everyone. he feared ridicule, but could not restrain himself. each time he wanted to pray, he would become filled with guilt. "who am i to make demands?" he would suppose, "to god or anyone." but his heart was filled with dreams, so he found his way to be OK with himself. whenever he would feel the urge to pray, he would scrounge the forest floor for the prettiest or most interesting stick or stone he could find, and once he could find one he was satisfied with, he would look for a better one. only by the fifth could he be happy, the tenth for important things.

        Today, however, he had put his hopes and his dreams into the fiftieth. He hadn't any reason,(as if he ever had) he merely felt the need. the boy looked over the thing in his hand, a piece of wood: but hardly a stick. Roughly rounded, it looked like a scratched up marble, about the size of a golf ball, taken from a patch of rocks along the river, where only the highest of tides could reach. a stone of stick, he decided, wondering only what such a thing would be worth to ask for. he held it to his heart, and closed his eyes, as he sat on the bench. the birds chirped to his left as he searched himself, and to his right the roar of lawn maintenance echoed through the valley.

        "whats that?" someone asked. someone close. eyes were thrown open to be met with a boy of taller stature, with golden hair and the oceans eyes; and arms were thrown to their side with a hasty jerk, causing the stick-stone to tumble to the ground. the new boy picked it up.

     "an offering?" he inquired. the boy on the bench simply nodded.
     "how did you-"
     "it just looks like one." he answered simply, stretching his hand out to return it. "feels like one too" he finished as it fell from his hand to the other's. the boy on the bench held it between his index and thumb. "im sure its gotta be something important, but i've no idea at all what to wish for"
     "well, if you don't mind sharing, what do you normally ask for?" the standing boy asked, pointing at the piles of sticks and stones beneath the bench. above those the boy blushed, not at the newcomer uncovering his secrets, but at his asking for more.
     "its OK." said the blonde one at his companions visible discomfort. "if you'd rather not answer."
     "th-thats not it" returned the sitting one, putting the stick-stone in his pocket."in fact, i don't know why, but i want to tell you, im just afraid it will change how you think of me."

        the blonde laughed, loudly and hard; the sitting one tried with all his muster to sink deeper into the bench, his face as red as a candied cherry.
     "you're silly." posited the blonde."we've only just known eachother, i could hardly think of you at all; but if its really something you feel that way about, wouldn't it be better if we get it out of the way now?"

        the sitting one stopped his squirming. the blush remained, but there was a smile on his face now; though he held his knees together and fidgeted his hands in his laps as he spoke, unable to look up at the eyes that had seemed so welcome before.

     "well, i ask for all kinds of things, really. good weather, and good friends; a simple life, full of things i can enjoy." he paused for a moment, both his words and hands. he looked up for a moment, into eyes, focused on him; they appeared to reach forever. he looked back down, afraid to fall in.
     "but, time and again, i ask for the same thing"
     "which is?" asked the blonde. the sitting boys face had never lost its color, but somehow it seemed to get worse. he pushed his hands into his knees, back and forth as he spoke.

     "th-that something will t-turn me into a g-girl."

        he grasped his knees harder, his breathing hastened, and his heart beat as hard as it could to find if it should fill with relief or worry. he looked up again, slowly. the blonde wasn't looking directly at him anymore; he was gazing slightly to the left, rubbing his chin and face as if he was bearded. his knees were met with nails, leaving pale trails on pinkish flesh; his eyes began to swell

     "i'm so-"
     "you were right," said the blonde. "that does change how i think of you."

        he stepped closer to the bench, and put his foot upon it. with only a single motion he kicked off the ground, spun on the ball of his foot, and was squatting next to the boy sitting there.

     "because until you said that, i was absolutely positive you were a girl."