The Light – Short Story

Hello everyone, today I wish to share with you a short story of peculiar style. Do you ever have those moments where you decide to sit down and write the first thing that comes to mind, refusing to stop and think? Yeah, I think we all do! That is what this story was. I had no clue what I was doing, writing, or thinking. All I knew is that swirling gold eyes were the one and only thing I had to at least mention. No idea why. I hope you enjoy this piece of random yet collected spontaneous thought:

The group roamed closer to the odd window, golden eyes swirling with memories. The eldest delicately runs his fingers over the warped frame, sighing.
“After all this time?”

“Always. Not a soul changed our world,” a woman whispered.
The eldest leaned against the wall, eyes closed, hands gripping the cold metal frame. A soft hand tugs on the hem of his shirt followed by beautiful laughter.


This was the picture I originally based the whole story off of. Just a single bed. My dad took this at an old house in the vicinity, and I suppose one could take it three ways: creepy, beautiful, or both. I took a bit more of the beauty side of it within the story, although it truely was a bit creepy. Things through the walls, perfect clothes scattered on the ground. Everything in place as if nothing ever happened.

“Is that my old bed?” The young child asks, pushing the mop of dirty blonde hair from starlight blue eyes.
“It once was,” the woman says, wrapping her child in strong arms. “It belongs to the earth now.”

“We lived here?”
“Long long ago. Before we got these,” she whispered, pointing to her golden eyes. “Before the wind touched the leaves, before you, dear child, changed forever.”

The eldest gasps, shaking his head. “It is not his time yet – do not speak Miaka.”

“And let the child live shrouded in the unknown? Living differently without reason?”

The boy shot glances between the two, eyes wide. Small fingers found the sharp pang of the window sill as he pulled himself up. “Tell me, father.”

The old man sighs, a small smile escaping. “You were like us, Usnavi. Golden eyes flecked with silver, raspberry red hair streaked with gray and chocolate brown. Many years before the Loop the winds came, shaking our world. Our home. We escaped into the Loop, but only after you had been affected. Now here you stand – blue eyes streaked with gold, blonde hair.”

The boy sits silent, confused. He expected more – he knew there was more. “And my bed, father?”

“It was stolen from you,” the woman whispers before the eldest could reply. “It changed you – the earth did. But there is beauty in your change! You alone can change the Loop, Usnavi.”

“But why? And why build me a new name?” The child asks, shaking his head in bewilderment. “I was once-”

“Once someone you shall never be again, dear child,” the woman whispers. “Usnavi stands for freedom. You are free, unlike us.” With a sweeping arm, the woman motions to the eldest and herself. “The earth stole something we can never return, yet with that you became new. You live outside of the Loop and yet within it. Usnavi… You, you alone can free us.”


Starlight blue eyes stare back, blank. With a deep breath, the child turns toward the bed frame and hugs it, disappearing in a dazzling storm of light. The eldest turns to the woman, a sad smile smeared across his weathered face.

“Dear child, dear Usnavi,” the woman sobs, closing her eyes. “Oh, how we love you.”

“He will be okay, Miaka. The earth has claimed his aged soul,” the man whispers.

“The boy was only five!”

“Five and two score. The loop chose him. Built the child a new body that would not age.”

The woman folded into herself, arms wrapping as a blanket, whispering into the ancient wood floors.

Seconds – or as evenly measured as years – passed and the two grew weary and old. With a flash, the dazzling light returned as the pair were at their last breath against the oak floors. A man, tall and proud, starlight blue eyes swirling, stepped from the old bed frame.

“Miaka, father, I bring you peace,” the rebuilt Usnavi calls, his air filling every particle of the earth.


With gentle, child-like hands he touches the heart and soul of his father and mother, eyes closed in beautiful rest. The two took their last breath, eyes on the now grown man, smiling.

“You came back,” the woman whispered. “After all this time…”

“Always,” he echoed ancient words. “Always. You were right, after all these years, I was free in a young body. I stopped the Loop. Now we can age together, mother. Father.”

“You are so grown, my love,” the woman says, wrapping her arms around her son’s face. “I knew you could do it. I knew-”

With a final breath, she sighs, a beautiful smile upon her pale face. At last, golden eyes set to rest, returning to their old sky blue of home. A tear dropped from the son’s face as he turned to his father. He too took a breath and passed, the signs of the Loop gone, whispering only one word. “Love.”

“I shall join you in time, father, mother. I promise.” And with that, the boy hugged his bed once more, disappearing in the light of life.

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The Light - Short Story |

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