The earth can be viewed as a place from whence life springs. Up from the soil of the ground rises green slivers of grass, the seeds of plants are nourished in its embrace, and beasts sleep soundlessly in the recesses of its caves. But the dirt is not always a place which breeds life. It is not not always the bare essentials of something beautiful, nor is it always a nice soft place to rest your feet and implant your toes; no, the earth can contain the most dreadful of things. Though from it life and plant-matter emerge, the dead and the rotten are entrusted to its care. It nourishes plants, and we reward it by burying corpses in its depths. It is common consent that the dead, when hidden in the earth, decompose and bring vital minerals to the dirt, enriching and completing the soil. While it is true that the physical material (the skin, the flesh, and the bone) dissolve into mere minerals and make the ground “healthy,” as it were, this is not all that happens when a body enters the ground. Comprehend, I beg of you, that although the useless body is dispensed of, the useless and pent-up emotion accumulated by the body has nowhere to go. The spirit (the actual essence of a Man, his being and consciousness) will ascend or descend in accordance with its true or false faith, but the anger, the hope, the strife, the charity, the stress, and the solace have no place to rest their heads. These emotions are, of course, simple feelings of the moment; when a Man is always angry, then that anger will go with him down into Hades, but when a Man feels a swift and transient feeling of rage upon stubbing his toe, that little smidgen of anger will go with him to the grave, but not to his eternity. These are the type of emotions which are thrown into the earth along with the corpses of men. Once the spirit leaves and the body is eaten by tiny microscopic microorganisms, these emotions awake once more. No longer having a body to rest upon, they abandon their parasitic nature and compose for themselves a body of their own. Logically these are very small bodies, as they house very small and silly emotions. There are undoubtedly many different kinds of these “Emotikind,” but the basic forms are defined within three classes: the Sprite, the Brownie, and the Hobgoblin.
The Sprite is a happy creature, the body of feelings brought about by, say, finding a coin on the street, or eating a goodie, or having a small animal let you pet it. These Sprites are also known as other names, the most common of these being Fairy. They are also called Pixies, Jinn, Will-o-the-Wisps, and Elves (although this is a misnomer, as the Elves are a completely different race whose origins are nowhere near the same as that of Sprites). Sprites will often fashion their bodies out of plant matter, such as flower petals or autumn leaves, and insect shells.
The Brownie is a creature of childish mannerisms, and they are just as unpredictable. While they may be the jolliest old fellow at one moment, they can be the most awful of chaps the second. They frequently fashion their bodies out of cast off feathers and fur, looking rather like an anthropomorphic squirrel. Their form often shifts with their moods. They are also known as Tantrums and Urisks.
The Hobgoblin is an awful creature, born out of temptation. They are the thoughts such as “Oh, I could just kill him!” Or, “What if I just jumped off of this cliff?” As well as other strange thoughts which people pass off the parsec after they think it. Hobgoblins are crafty and furious things, pranksters of epic proportions, and all around horrid. They produce their form from animal carcasses and molds. They are also known as Imps, Gremlins, or simply Goblins.
When a person dies, they usually leave behind Emotikind from all three of the classes, the Brownies being from their childhood, and the Sprites and Hobgoblins from their later years. Every now and then, though, an extremely bipolar person will come along, someone who has no control of their emotions whatsoever, and frequently has cause to be angry. These people will only produce Hobgoblins, and the Hobgoblins which they produce are perfectly refined; unadulterated in their mischievous hate.
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