"They were marked everywhere. Little water labels, showing how high the level of the water was. But they were on bottles. You had to wonder what was wrong with this world.
Narn Klunkin looked about. A sad clutter, a diminished little greeting, waiting for him as he arrived at his home. His cave was high, a little on the smaller side, but marred not by the outside aesthetics of obsessiveness and purity. He collapsed into a reedy little armchair and pondered his thoughts.
His enchanted homeland, Nonexistencia, was suffering from a blight. People were gathering, creatures of all kinds, and debating the course of action to end the lack of things growing and living. Even labeling the water. In a magical realm once thought of as high and merry, terrible and strange things were starting to happen.
Narn looked at his hand. He could hardly believe it was still there. Nothing lived anymore. He understood that. But the way the other elves, fairies, and gnomes responded to it was incredulous. Always meetings, councils, committees more committed to talking than action. No one seemed concerned with the real problem. Narn shook his head. As if anyone knew what that was.
A sharp yip from his small pet brought Narn's eyes to the entrance of his cave. A poultry-dealer, clad in his company's requisite chicken feathers, was standing there as if waiting for a conversation. Narn rolled his eyes, forced himself up, and strolled over to the strange merchant.
'What? Chicken's still coming in, eh?' Narn looked passed the older elf, eyes straying to the sky as he studied the dark and clouding atmosphere of Nonexistencia. The old elf grimaced, put off by Narn's display of unaffectedness. Coughing up a reply, the old salesman motioned to his cooler. Narn noticed the wild, distraught look in the old elf's eyes and gasped slightly. It was like this all over.
Narn's eyes fell to the old elf's hand cooler. It was noticeably empty. Narn gave the old elf a look of disapproval and sent him on his way. Flexing his shoulders, the young elf reminded himself of how good it was to be strong in those days. God knows what that old merchant would have done otherwise.
Narn hissed at his tiny furry companion and slipped out the cave door. Same as every other time, this might be the last time he ever saw his home. Always ready to die. Flexing a small dagger on his waste, Narn gritted his teeth and hopped on a magical sidewalk towards the central village. Always ready to die.
He looked at an attractive young fairy woman loping passed and smiled at her. She pretended not to see him and danced along the sidewalk in the other direction. He noticed a bottle in her hand, marked about half-way down its length. He smiled again.
Glancing back up at the ominous skies, he took a deep breath. I guess it depends on how you look at it."
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