Loneliness, a mysterious companion, walks beside me, its shadow stretching across my emotions. It's a paradox, suffocating yet oddly comforting. It whispers like a haunting melody, weaving tales of isolation, leaving an ache within.

In its presence, the world feels distant, veiled by mist, and the weight of emptiness is overwhelming. Loneliness is an echo that reverberates through the heart, a yearning for connection.

But amid the darkness, it teaches. It compels introspection, forcing me to confront myself. It is a crucible of self-discovery, where solitude fosters growth, unlocking hidden strengths.

Physically alone, emotionally entangled, loneliness is transformative. It's a dance with solitude, a struggle for equilibrium. In these moments, I learn self-compassion, a balm for wounds.

Loneliness weaves its narrative uniquely. It is both burden and gift, an invitation to embrace the human experience in all its shades. Within this vast emotion lies the promise of connection, like stars shining in the darkest night.

At a mature twenty seven years old, I thought I had the world pretty much figured out. I knew what I wanted and I always knew exactly how to get it. Cold as that sounds, I lived my life through honesty and virtue, never taking from others what I could earn on my own. I had learned during my childhood that fathers couldn't be counted on to rescue you when you needed them as mine had walked out the door. I thought I had become hardened to that, and kept reassuring myself that I would be self-sufficient - I would never rely on any man. I would never let any man in my heart.

Fast-forward to January and I met him. He was a breath of fresh air, someone that I had known for years but never really considered and then one day I looked at him and he was different. He felt different. He has never raised a hand in anger or thrown an unkind word my way and honestly, that scared me. I didn't know how to deal with this man that wanted to show me nothing but love and didn't expect anything in return. I finally let my guard down and he completely captured me. Our relationship has been a breeze with the exception of the occasional wrench I throw in it. I'm still learning how to deal with my emotions positively and how to control the ever-present anxiety that presents itself at the most inappropriate times, yet he makes me feel like that's completely normal. I'm not a damsel in distress to him, simply someone he loves that needs his help sometimes.

Someone that needs his help more and more as the months pass, and my body grows and changes with the child that we didn't expect but happily prepare for. Now that my body is not just my own, sometimes I am overcome with emotion and can't express properly how much I care for him. Sometimes my frustrations get the better of me and I snap out of anger. Sometimes we lie awake at night with our backs turned, trying to find the words to fill the silence but too afraid to hurt the other. On these nights I whisper, "I love you" as tears fill my eyes and I wait for him to tell me to leave, that he's done with this song and dance and he wants no part of me anymore. Instead he turns over and places his arm around me, hand firmly on my stomach as if to say, "I'm here, and I'm not leaving." This small gesture causes me to collapse, hormones getting the best of me as I let my worst fear become realized - I am afraid of losing him.

This morning, when he told me he loved me too, seemed to give me life again. I know that feeling of reassurance is only temporary, and when the hormones shift and the anxiety takes over, I'll be counting down again, trying my best to keep him happy though I know he doesn't expect me to. I know that the same fight will ensue - the tears will return, with whispered words in the awkward quiet of the bedroom as I try to convince him that I'm worth keeping - and I know his reaction will always be the same. I place my hands on my still-growing stomach and know that this little girl will never have to worry about absentee fathers and wondering if people love her.

This little girl will have more family, more affection, more love than those that have come before her. This little girl will wake every day with a smile on her face and wonder in her eyes, knowing her mommy and daddy are waiting for her, and playtime is now. I close my eyes and can't help but feel emotional, because I know that I chose the perfect man to be her father.

Buildings burn on my TV,

Fanning the flame burning in me.

As a white man with four little kids,

I’m ashamed of this world in which we live.

I love everyone, white or black,

but still I feel guilt for where we're at

in a world so large, with so much chance,

it's sad we made our Brothers take a stand.

But that's life in 2020.

I wear a mask and stand six feet away,

haven't seen my grandmother in months and days.

I call to talk to her, but it's not the same.

The quarantine has us feeling insane.

A cough in the supermarket, we all look 'round,

since we can't talk, we watch the ground.

We pray more now than ever before,

that we can all be safe and re-open our stores.

But that's life in 2020.

With the rising flames and falling ash,

I think we all lose some of the past,

a past that wasn't perfect, and less so for those,

whose color of skin match a hangman's clothes.

The virus sweeping from shore to shore,

makes us forget our neighbors and bar the doors.

We need to stand side-by-side, hand-in-hand,

uniting ourselves across the land.

But this is life in 2020.

We are not houses,

or cemeteries,

or even a safe space

to lick open wounds.

We are not here to

rehabilitate broken

souls or bury their

unclaimed baggage

within our bones.

We are women with

blood that runs black,

disguised behind

petals and eyelashes

that resemble a

butterfly’s wings.

We are the women that

find themselves shackled

to sad lovers that desire

a home within us,

but haven’t an idea

what “home” even is.

We were not meant

for the pedestals or

carpets of men,

or hiding behind

curls and naïveté.

We emerged from fire

to be carried to the sea,

baptized within the

love affair between

sky and water.

We are women, healers

and guides, that carry

the light and love of the

universe instilled in

our watery cores.

We are also destruction,

hurricanes with bright

red lips and tornadoes

of oppression and fury.

Our patience and

compassion has been

misunderstood for centuries,

and we are the women

that are changing that.

We are not houses,

or cemeteries,

and anything

abandoned

here will go up

in flames with

the bridges that

we burn along

the way.

Wiping away the fog that obscurs your reflection,

Your eyes tear up from the haze of the steam,

As you stare, lost in the lines of your existence

With the sound of the dripping tap filling your ears,

As the water trickles down the murky depths of the black hole,

You search for a purpose in the window to your soul,

Grasping for the straw in the dark,

As you think to yourself;

“This can’t be it.”

- Lady Bell

Struggling to trust,

My heart begins to rust.

You want in,

I want out.

Out the walls,

In your arms.

You beg and plea:

“Let me in!”

I am deaf to your cries.

I'm a hostage to my own mind,

It saying,

Everyone I love will (try) to hurt me.

I know something's wrong with me,

I’m broken beyond repair.

There’s no need to (attempt) to comfort me,

With the pain no one should bear.

I want out this prison,

To find freedom,

But freedom is a fantasy.

A lie everyone wishes to believe.

Just leave me with my trust issues,

We know you deserve better.

I wish I could be better;

I want to be better;

But I fear that's impossible.

My heart is locked and the key hidden,

Somewhere in your soul.

But maybe it’s easier to leave me,

Then to mend me.

We all know, no one likes broken things.

And that is what I am.

I am a broken thing, full of rust and broken trust.

~Shadows

It doesn't hit often, this feeling I get

but when it does, it's like its making

up for lost time...

This feeling of helplessness

of being so empty that you

can't love yourself

and then it hits,

these unjustifiable tears

that pour like

a faucet

draining...

and after

when your eyes

are husks and the

winds begins to take them

the only feeling is this empiness

that still consumes you and you feel

unloved and unworthy of the love people

have for you that you can't seem to feel

anymore, try as you might every step is leaden

which contadicts how you feel so you sleep

and when two or three days go by with no rest

from these induced emotional slumbers, you get up

and turn the shower on and the cold water feels

so good from the heat and salt of your eyes

that you almost cry tears of happiness

from the emptiness that is washing

away down your face and into the

drain...

And you look at yourself as the scent of

soap and water fill your senses giving

you hope, hope that this feeling

doesn't come again at least

for a while

and you

want to

start

a new....

from the cold cleansing

The Landvik children were asleep, safe in their beds when the playing began. The calling song of a fiddle seemed to be coming from the direction of the bay. Long slow notes swirling through the air attempting to wake them from their slumber. Kristian awoke first. Confused, the young boy rubbed his eyes and stood, tiptoeing towards the corner bed in which his younger brother, Aldrik slept. The younger boy was concealed beneath his blanket, which he’d fisted in his hands as he slept, curled in on himself and facing the wall. Kristian nodded, noticing the boy’s closed eyes and rising chest. Aldrik was asleep, snoring softly with each breath. He would not awaken any time soon.

Carefully, Kristian moved across the small room he and his younger brother shared and towards the door. His sister was sleeping on the couch where she’d resided since outgrowing her younger brothers. She too, was awake. “Lisbeth?” Kristian questioned, stepping out of the doorway.

She did not answer.

“Lisbeth?”

Again, there was no response. Confused, Kristian walked towards her, laying a hand on the back of the moth-eaten couch as he approached. Her soft brown eyes were wide, glazed over, as if entranced. Her features were blank, devoid of emotion or thought, which was strange. Lisbeth was an unusually bright girl with a large smile and expressive features. And yet, here she was, all of the beautiful emotion that Kristian had always associated with her, gone.

“Lisbeth?” Kristian questioned once more.

Slowly, she rose from her seat, the soft rhythm of the fiddle quickening as she did so. Scared and confused, Kristian reached out to her. She seemed to look right through him, but not really see him. It was as if she were focused on something way out in the distance, except there was nothing there. He’d looked.

Silently, Lisbeth stepped, walking at a brisk pace towards the door.

Kristian tugged on her nightdress in an attempt to stop her. “Lisbeth, stop. What are you doing?”

She seemed to not even notice, taking her next step and continuing on even as her brother tugged on her gown and begged for her to stay. She moved across the small family room and towards the wooden door to their home. Kristian moved all around the room at a frantic pace, quickly shoving on his shoes and pulling on his coat. “Lisbeth, wait!”

Again it was as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Kristian?”

The older boy turned to see his younger brother standing in the door to their bedroom. The young boy’s deep brown eyes were bleary with sleep and his hair was ruffled. His sleep clothes were wrinkled and buttoned lopsidedly, hanging off of him oddly as the clothes were much too large for a boy his size. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning he looked at his older siblings with confusion and uncertainty. “Do you hear the music too?”

It was all Kristian could do to nod as Lisbeth slipped out the door and he hurried to follow after.

“Wait!” Aldrik called, shoving his small feet into his boots and rushing out after them.

“Lisbeth! Kristian! Wait for me!”

“Shhh!” Kristian hushed, holding the smaller boy back and away from Lisbeth.

“Something’s wrong with her.”

Wide-eyed the young boy looked up at his older brother with fear and confusion as a fiddle continued to play in the background. So Kristian did as his sister once did for him, he held his younger brother’s hand and told him all would be alright. They would be okay. And when the younger boy shivered in the autumn wind he gave him his jacket.

Together they followed Lisbeth, clambering along after her as fast as their short legs could carry them. She was taller than them, slender and beautiful with soft brown eyes and soft features. The pale moonlight danced across her skin bathing her in shades of shining silver. Her white linen nightdress billowed around her as the wind whipped through the air, her dark hair whirling around her face and flagging behind her.

Neither boy bothered calling out to her. She was too far gone to notice them anyway.

But the music still called, growing louder and louder with each passing moment, the notes becoming quicker and closer together, almost cheerful. They had to be getting closer. They had to be.

Lisbeth started over the peak and the boy’s followed after her, stopping at the top of the hill. Aldrik gripped Kristian’s hand as they watched their sister descend towards the bay that lay not far away.

The land was misty where it met the bay, as usual, but tonight it seemed especially eerie, almost foreboding. Aldrik inched closer to his brother as they watched their sister approach the misty waters.

Then, he appeared. A young man, not much older than Lisbeth herself. He wore no clothing that they could tell, his torso bare and strong, sculpted as if by an artist. His lower half was clouded in the mist. His eyes were dark but sparkling, seeming to capture the light of the moon. His hair was dark like the midnight sky and long, falling down almost past his shoulders. Lisbeth’s eyes were locked onto him, as he were her whole world. She stared at him, and him at her. He was undoubtedly beautiful, strangely so for a man. They couldn’t seem to tear their eyes from him.

It took the two boys far too long to notice he had a fiddle held between his shoulder and his cheek, playing loud long notes while he watched the approaching girl with hungry eyes.

It took them even longer to realize this was not a coincidence and this strange boy could not be anything good. Gripped with sudden panic and a fierce desire to protect his older sister Kristian pulled away from his brother’s grasp and ran towards his sister.

By the time the boys had come to their senses, Lisbeth was already in the water, her nightdress soaking up the water as she waded into the depths, moving towards the beautiful boy with a mindless smile. She reached out to him with open arms. He continued to play his song as he stared at her, the corners of his lips curving into a strange grin that seemed to somehow enhance his strange ethereal beauty.

Kristian screamed as he ran, “Lisbeth!” Arms and legs pumping the young boy sprinted as fast as he could, ignoring the biting wind and the cold. “Lisbeth!”

She couldn’t hear him. She was too entranced by the music and the beauty of the stranger. Oh how she wanted to see him closer. To touch him. Closer still, she walked, the water lapping at her thighs and soaking her dress.

“Lisbeth!”

Aldrik watched with horror as his brother ran and screamed. He watched, frozen in place, unable to move, scared and confused and alone. He wrapped his arms around himself as the biting wind whipped at his skin and he watched.

The dark-haired boy stopped playing. Slowly he dropped the fiddle from his shoulder and outstretched his bow arm towards Lisbeth who took it readily, allowing him to pull her towards him. The creature smiled as he stared at him, her body pressed against his.

“Lisbeth!”

In a second the pair had disappeared beneath the water’s surface, gone.

“Lisbeth!”

Kristian dove into the water without a second thought, diving right after his sister, desperation in his eyes.

Aldrik screamed as the older boy crashed through the surface of the water, fearing for his brother, for the loss of his sister. He ran toward the water, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud and his brother’s jacket trailing behind him while the wind howled in misery. “Kristian! Lisbeth! Kristian!”

The small boy ran as fast as he could, but in his haste tripped over a rock, landing face-first in the dirt. Shaking with fear and cold, Aldrik clambered back onto his feet and rushed towards the water’s edge.

And then he stopped. He gulped in air, breathing large labored breaths the small boy

watched the water, his deep brown eyes scanning the surface for a ripple, any indication that his siblings lived. He stared, hoping for a bubble, a sign, anything, but finding nothing. The water lapped at his shoes, calmly, innocently as if its depths hadn’t just swallowed up his siblings.

Aldrik waited there until morning, still staring out across the water. He’d stayed as the wind whipped around him, pulling at his brother’s jacket and his clothes and howling for the poor boy’s loss. He’d stood and watched as the mist had slowly subsided and the water cleared. He’d watched as the sun had risen, bathing the sky in hues of orange and pink. The water was beautiful, the colors reflected in its surface, but it wasn’t the same to him. It had changed. The water he’d once loved had been forever changed in his eyes. It was evil, dark and foreboding. He hated it. Hated that boy. That thing.

Lisbeth wasn’t there to tell him not to hate and Kristian wasn’t there to steer him right. Aldrik realized they’d never be. Never again, and that made him hate the still waters of the bay all that much more.

The fishermen with their scruffy beards clad in long coats collected him in the morning, returning the red-eyed, frozen and unspeaking boy to his family, who cried and yelled and screamed over their loss. Aldrik had done all of that already. He simply watched with an absent, vacant expression. They did not believe him and he hadn’t expected them to. It was ridiculous after all. A strange boy entrancing his sister and drowning both her and his brother under the water’s surface only for them never to return? Absurd.

Or so they thought.

As he grew he learned, growing stronger with each passing day. He’d be ready to face it someday. That thing. The creature. It was called a Nökken. An evil shape-shifting creature who lured victims into the water with music and charm and then drowned them. His anger never lessened. His sworn hatred never vanished, only grew. Nineteen years old and Aldrik was bigger, stronger, and angrier than ever before, and he swore vengeance.

#revenge #fantasy #short story #creatures #challenge #vengeance #fiction #pied piper

The silver pond glitters ever so slightly

As moonlight dances upon the surface,

Creating ripples of shimmering shallows,

Smooth, resting pebbles underneath glinting

Like the beady eyes of a curious serpent.

Sprinkling an ethereal sense of tranquility,

The pond hums to itself a song,

Singing, “the wondrous depths of the sea

Are nothing compared to the enchanting illumination before me.”

- Lady Bell