It was morn in the Garden of the Hesperides. Clouds of warm mist floated around, cloaking everything in white. The three Hesperides were dancing around Hera's golden apple tree, singing to make it grow. Ladon burst from his cave, growling. "Everyone's a critic. Quiet Ladon! You're upsetting the tree!" Hope, the eldest Hesperide, yelled at their scaly roomate. They sat down near the roots of the enormous tree and waited for their 9:00 appointment. "Cousin Apollo should be here in 3...2...1." Peace said, looking at the vines.
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Gone Awry (joined about 12 years ago)
I have been many places, seen many things, been many things as well, but what I shall never stop being, is a writer, a traveler of dreams and the human soul. My name is none of your concern. Call me anything or nothing; I may not answer to anything, or answer to everything.
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dancing ladon tree singing boredom