Tempest, sister of five, was a woman of dreams.

Every night, her eyes would gaze up at the moonlight, and though she was not tantalized by the moon's advances like her sisters were, she would wonder what it was like to live in a land of air, to be of the sky and free to go where no one else could dare.

The moon promised her that he could give her such things, and she wasn't sure. He had tried to goad her, to bring her to him with advances that promised warm breeze nights that he would light. He told her he could help her swim more upright, but she was not swayed.

Still, Tempest would rumble the water surface, pushing back at the windy messengers who came to visit each day. She tired of the moon's advances and so she ventured out from her depths where the shore came and her world became shallow. This was the place of man, a place Land had claimed and called its own, but Land had no soul, no spirit per say and spoke to no one. Still, she sat on his shores and lamented that she could be no freer from her home than a prisoner of the depths, but Land did not answer.

Liking the silence, she returned to him once more, washing over his beaches and asking if he minded. No answer. And so she started to swallow up little caves, filling them with pretty little things, returning Land his people, and sometimes when man was dumb enough, drowning them to tell Land to respect her realm. Still, Land did not respond. Despite his lack of response, she felt free, more free than she ever had, but Moon became jealous, tugging on the waters surface with his pull to bring her back. To ask her to come away with him since he could not have her. Her sisters became angry, bemoaning his advances on her as he gave them less attention and Tempest remained resolute. She would not feed into it.

And so, every night, Tempest rises up to the shores to see if Land will answer her, but feeling at home with being able to be herself, she continues to ignore Moon's requests for marriage. On some nights, his tug is stronger, keeping her busy and away, but on others... she returns and Land sprinkles gifts from beneath his shores of what little trinkets Tempest left behind.

In the ancient times of Mirtholia, there dwelled a whimsical sea deity named Tidewoggle. With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle that echoed across the ocean, Tidewoggle was known for his mischievous nature and love for laughter. He was the guardian of the tides, responsible for their rise and fall, and he took his role quite seriously, albeit with a playful twist.

You see, Tidewoggle had an insatiable fondness for jokes and jests. He would often play pranks on the sea creatures, causing waves to splash unexpectedly or sandcastles to vanish with a mischievous wink. The sea turtles would grumble, the seagulls squawked, and the crabs clicked their claws in mock annoyance.

One day, as Tidewoggle roamed the shores, he encountered a wise old seagull named Gulliver. Gulliver was renowned for his wisdom and always had a thoughtful perspective on the world.

"Ah, Tidewoggle, your laughter brings joy to the sea, but have you ever wondered why you control the tides?" Gulliver asked, gazing at the mischievous deity with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Tidewoggle, ever the jokester, replied with a grin, "Oh, Gulliver, my friend, it's all for the fun of it! I create the tides to see the sea creatures dance and the land-dwellers scramble."

Gulliver chuckled softly and said, "Indeed, your jests bring delight, but there is more to your gift than mere amusement. The tides, like life itself, have a deeper meaning."

Perplexed, Tidewoggle tilted his head, eager to hear Gulliver's wisdom.

"Look beyond the splash and foam," Gulliver advised, "The tides rise and fall with the dance of the moon and the sun. They symbolize the rhythm of life, the ebb, and flow of emotions, the cyclic nature of all things."

Tidewoggle listened attentively, and a glimmer of understanding flickered in his eyes.

"You control the tides, dear Tidewoggle, to remind all beings of the interconnectedness of laughter and tears, joy and sorrow," Gulliver continued. "In the highs and lows of the tides, we find the balance between mirth and contemplation, between playfulness and introspection."

A profound silence settled over the beach as Tidewoggle pondered Gulliver's words. The laughter that once echoed boisterously now had a hint of reflection.

From that day on, Tidewoggle's pranks and jokes took on a new depth. The sea creatures would laugh heartily when he playfully splashed them, but they would also pause and contemplate the meaning behind the tides' rise and fall.

And so, the tides of Mirtholia continued to dance to Tidewoggle's tune, a reminder of life's ever-changing cadence. The mischievous deity's laughter still resounded across the sea, but now, it held a profound meaning, touching the hearts of all who heard it.

For in the laughter of Tidewoggle, they found not just amusement but a profound lesson: that life's journey is a beautiful tapestry of highs and lows, of joy and reflection, and that through it all, laughter and meaning intertwine like the waves upon the shore.

"Mother, why does the water rise?"

Summer's Reach was cold. The old seaside home where Daloran spent his childhood days, unaware of his future cares, saw that day a morning of wind.

Daloran did not care; and nor did his mother Kana, who sat above him on a stone bench while he played in the white sands at the edge of the beach.

"What do you mean?" she said, after only a moment's consideration. She had been watching the horizon, uncaring as the wind blew her dark hair this way or that. Her son was making shapes in the sand, little mounds in a circle.

"I mean..." he said, looking up and studying the nearby cliffs with a troubled look. "When we got here the water wasn't so high. Why did it go up?"

"Oh," she said. "Well... do you see the moon at night?"

"Yes," he said, "and sometimes in the day."

"That's right," she nodded. "Well, what my father told me was that the water follows the moon."

"Follows?" he protested. "Then why isn't it up there?"

She breathed in the salt spray, not answering him. After a moment, he came over and took her hand.

"Mother, how does the water follow the moon?"

She smiled and patted the stone bench next to her.

"Well," she said as Daloran sat, "if you like, I'll tell you a story..."

Many years ago, it is said, a hunter went looking for a silver doe. For the land had been dry for a very long time, and it was said that if someone were to find and kill the doe, the skies would open up again and rain would fall, quenching the ground's thirst.

So, many years he searched, through every forest he could find. But to no avail. So he searched across all the plains, then into the mountains... but he couldn't find the silver doe.

But he would not give up. The land was desperate for rain.

At night he watched the skies, looking for an answer, a sign of where to look. "I have travelled long," he began to say each night, "and I search for what no man should be able to find. Yet I will hunt until my last breath. Would that my journey be met with the smallest of aid?"

As his eyes searched, suddenly a star in the north blinked once brighter than all the rest. He stood immediately, shouting his excitement and praise; and, ever one bound by duty, he continued on his way.

He followed the star in the north for many months; through many nights and sleeping very little. Through forests and over plains he journeyed again. And finally, after crossing perhaps the tallest mountain he had ever seen, he stopped when the star brought him to the sea.

There he stood for a long while, the whisper of the waves in his ears. He thought perhaps he was to build a boat and keep going, but something stayed him on the sand. So he waited until nightfall, that perhaps he could again look for direction.

When night came, however, and the great moon was over head, something shining appeared from the waves. She strode from the wake with both grace and majesty, a silver doe, bowing to the hunter as he approached.

"I come to you," she said, and her words sang through his chest, "you who have searched for so long, that now I may return to my home."

So the hunter drew the first arrow of his long hunt, and loosed it upon the silver doe. And as it struck, the doe burst into a cloud of moonlight, lingering there on the shore for only a moment. With a final whisper of farewell, she soared upward through the clouds and into the moon; and at the moment she broke through the sky, rain began to pour down, blessing the dying land; and as the rains came down, the water came up to meet it, crashing together in a joyous thunder.

The hunter fled before the torrent, but he was not fast enough. So great was the land's joy that it drowned its savior. And though at first he thought perhaps it was unfair, he remembered the rain falling on the dry ground and the doe's flight home... and he drifted off with a smile.

Now... each time the moon comes around in the sky, the waves remember... they hear the whisper of the doe's voice... and the sea rises up to be nearer to her...

"That's why the water goes up, Daloran."

It was the bang that laid out this path.

Lovers more star crossed than

Any love past.

Sir Ur (our earth)

And lady moon

did swoon so!

This took place

In the hollow vacuum of space;

but it is that the gravity of the situation made it so

these two celestial Spheres

love affairs could never be.

So; Sir Ur

filled up with tears.

They swell when she is near.

Close, but

always too far to touch.

So it is so that

our Earth must

(try as it might),

Attempt to catch

the path of her flight.

Hoping against all reason

to bring them together

evermore.

It is as he weeps

That rain pours.

Waves will crash

on distant shores,

all while the

wind speaks the pained shrieks

of the fight.

This is why

every night

The lonely Lady moon comes.

Yet

(try as she might)

she too fails the plight

Never to reach

Her Sir Ur.

Like a siren to

Our world;

Her amorè.

It is

the thrashing tides

Who keep the score,

And their woes whisper in the wind.

All the local hobo's and their tiny hobo juniors met just after dark near the tracks.

It was story night off the slab and tonight Pissbag and Bobby were tell a tale of the tide.

Everyone had recently come home from a trip to the ocean and all the wonderfully filthy children, liked best the way the water ebbed and chased.

Once everyone's cans of pork and beans had been open and Snotbox's mom gave everyone their shiney silver spoons- Pissbag appeared from behind a sheet hung from two Uncle Jeff's.

'Ladies and Gents tonight we hear one whale of a tale- how the tides got their game.'

Bobby shook a piece of plastic in the air real hard and it made a weird woobly noise everyone enjoyed.

"Now- we already learned about all biggest hobos on the grid- whales."

Bobby held up a poster with the symbol for 'whale crossing' on it. The kids laughed.

"Whales, like all other brothers and sisters fart- but one whale fart is like 700 people farts for 5 minutes. That is power. That is movement. That is pressure from the depths of the ocean that keep on rollin through the water."

Bobby wobbled the plastic again.

"At night, with the help of the gravity of the moon, all those whale farts eventually start to catch up with one another and cause a wake of sorts."

Bobby wobbled.

"At the fart bubbles pop and merge the displaced energy causes the water to churn back and forth on the shores."

Bobby wobbled once more.

"All that sand that has been played on all day needs to be washed you see. Those whales are not just doing as nature bids, their fart waves are helping the ocean clean the beaches."

Bobby held up another large sign this time with the symbols for 'clean living here'.

"In fifty years, by the year 2000 if we don't make sure the future protects all those whales, the beaches will become filled with trash. Wouldn’t that be such a terrible situation?"

Bobby wobbled once more, and all the children agreed.