----------------------------------------
The girl had become weary of the endless path. What once seemed a charming adventure, trotting on the ghostly white powder, imprinting the earth with her presence, now twisted into a dull march. She fancied herself not as one but myriad lost souls, scattered across the landscape—a legion of tiny, forlorn footprints stretching to infinity. Each indentation spoke of her solitude, etched with unnerving precision as though traced by unseen phantoms. The once soft dust now clawed at her like dry bones, billowing up in suffocating clouds that choked her breath and stung her eyes. In due course, as darkness gnawed at her resolve, she stumbled upon a capricious stream, its cheerless babble breaking the haunting silence at the very moment she longed for escape.
“Running and running, without any feet;
Running and running, and isn’t it sweet!”
This was the haunting melody the child whispered to herself, for songs often slipped from her lips when solitude wrapped around her. With a reckless abandon, she descended into the river’s embrace, and the waters caressed her scorching little toes with chilling grace. She waded deeper, clutching her skirts aloft - a futile gesture, since they barely reached her knees - stirring ripples that birthed argent glimmers with every motion. The river’s depths betrayed no increase; it seemed designed for such dark escapades, or so the child deceived herself into believing. For a stretch, meadow-rue festooned the banks, compelling her to halt and behold the ghostly blooms and their delicate stalks that swayed like pallbearers in a silent procession. Then came the alders, gnarled sentinels clutching the remnants of yesteryear’s fruit amidst their sable branches. And without warning, forests encroached upon the riverbank. Her fixation on birthing ephemeral luminance had severed her attention from the shore; when she raised her gaze once more, the friendly meadow-rue had vanished. Looming trees pressed in close, forming a somber phalanx around her; green canopies transformed into foreboding pavilions and sinister veils that fluttered menacingly in the breeze.
In the gloomy heart of the forest, the child whispered, “I am in the woods!” Her laughter, tinged with a hint of madness, echoed eerily around her. She peered into the brooding silence, a sense of dread cloaked in awe. The woods loomed around her; although not dense enough to block out the sun entirely—shafts of light pierced through the canopy, casting haunted illuminations that danced like ghostly golden specters. Intermittently, these spectral glimmers touched upon the river’s surface in a sinister display, akin to cursed treasure—coins of gold and diamonds tossed carelessly by vengeful deities, flickering ominously atop the water’s glassy veneer. Yet elsewhere, the river lay stagnant and somber in the thick shadows, its surface disturbed only where an eerie stone emerged, slick and draped in moss—a lone sentinel in the darkness—while over it trickled liquid silver, whispering sinister secrets as it vanished into the soundless obsidian depths below.
Inevitably, she encountered a massive stone whose peak protruded ominously from the water like the back of some slumbering beast, its hue a dull and lifeless brown. With deceptive calmness, the child perched atop its broad, flat surface, gathering her petticoats close as though attempting to ward off the creeping cold that rose to meet her. There, with her tender feet ensnared by the chilling caress of the brook’s flow, she was ensnared herself between two worlds. The child’s laughter broke through the silence—a harsh, jarring sound—and where her small feet stirred the water’s surface, sinister ripples carried them away. Dark droplets jumped skyward as if seeking escape before raining down upon her like a shroud. Then, an eerie melody spilled from her lips, interwoven with words bordering on incantations; it was a song not meant for the light of day but for the shrouded embrace of twilight’s shadows.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“And I comed away,
And I runned away,
And I said I thought I did not
Want to stay!
Imagine the sheer shock upon Miss Tyler’s visage; her utterance will be rife with disbelief, ‘Alas! Where has the girl vanished?’ Frantically, she will scour each nook and shadow, peering through the dim corridors and forgotten chambers, yet I shall be an enigma, existing in neither here nor there! The girl’s laughter then unfurled, resonant with a peculiar macabre note, mirroring the brook’s own murmuring chortle. It was a sound not of mirth but of some eldritch secret shared between them. The child acknowledged the brook with a knowing nod and sent ripples through it, casting a dance of dark shimmering lights across its surface as if to celebrate their sinister communion.
As the whispers proliferate throughout the gloomy village, every horrified soul will murmur, ‘Indeed, we’ve seen that accursed child – witnessed her slinking into the shop and sneaking into dwellings. Aye, seen her shadow darting hither and thither.’ Ah, but not a single soul saw me haste, not one glimpsed my shadows’ flight, ignorance reigns supreme whilst the unknown encircles all like a shroud!” She convulsed in a sinister chuckle. Amidst this ghastly mirth, a sullen toad emerged from the depths, fixating upon her with its inscrutable eyes before it uttered an ominous “Croak,” as if questioning the very essence of her being.
“And why should I confess?” the child retorted with a malevolent glance. “Should I entrust my secret to you, will it forever remain entombed within your silent lips? Swear it upon your tarnished honor? But no – my secrets are not for your ears or any wretched creature of your ilk!” With a disdainful splash intended to banish him, the toad retreated into darkness, visibly seething.
“Pah!” she scoffed. “Nothing more than a loathsome amphibian bereft of magic. Surely not akin to the storied Frog Prince.” Her frown deepened within the shadows, a fleeting moment in contemplation ensued before she dismissively shook her head. “No – had he been regal, gold would have adorned his hide. As devoid of grace or royalty as he was of gold so was this toad - not a prince by any stretch of one’s wildest imaginations. Were he nobility incarnate veiled in frogs’ guise, at once would I discern his truth.” And imagined his noble plea:
“‘King’s daughter youngest, open thy forbidden gate!’
“And then – what chaos would follow! Into Miss Tyler’s dish he’d go; oh how shrill would be her cries and great her consternation! But then – a shadow crossed her twisted smile at the thought of Mother.”
Mother...” she echoed somberly into the uncaring darkness. “Mother who deserted me first and beckoned this descent into midnight wanderings. When such forsaken offspring are left solitary in this cruel world they vanish into the void; vanish just as swiftly as trust fades. And that odious Miss Tyler – no guardian fit for an innocent cursed by neglect,” she confided bitterly with an air of finality that resonated like a curse in still air.
“And I comed away,
And I runned away,
And I said I thought I did not
Want to stay!
And they teared their hair,
And they made despair,
And—and—
And I said I thought perhaps I did not care!
In a murmur of discontent, she pledged to weave tales with the fairies, her words dripping with the enchantment of poetry when her stature matched her ambition. In a brooding silence, she observed the orbs of air, solemnly drifting along the water’s melancholic path. They seemed like wraiths encased in crystal – a deceptive fragility outlined by an ephemeral froth at their union. Yet upon reaching that grim nook where an ominous beam of sunlight invaded the darkness and set the currents ablaze with ethereal fire, these orbs donned the spectral hues of the afterlife.