Lumisade

United States of America

A humble young storyteller who loves sunny days, brightly colored cacti, the ocean, and you.

Message to Readers

So this is it. Ethereal. My pride and joy.
I submitted an excerpt/edit from this work for the Monster flash-fiction contest; this is the original. It's not the entire WIP; I have more, and may add it later. I would so very greatly appreciate any feedback/constructive criticism, because this is a novel I'm absolutely going to publish one day, and I want it to be as close to perfect as possible. Thank you so much for reading!!

Ethereal

February 18, 2018

FREE WRITING

7
This story begins with death.

My death, to be precise. And it ends with life.

Not the usual order, I know.




I was fourteen.

Pretty young to die. Pretty young to be all alone. Pretty young to already know that monsters, the terrifying beings that young children so fear, are not imaginary.

Monsters are very real.



I staggered blindly away from the monster's darkened den, leaving scarlet trails shimmering behind me. Blood dripped down into my eyes from a wide gash that striped across my forehead, left there by the broken glass fragments of a bottle. My shirt, a ragged blue hoodie, was now stained a dark, deathly shade of red and hung in tatters. I stumbled and leaned against a cold brick wall, my numb legs trembling beneath my dead weight.
A small whimper escaped my dry, cracked lips. I felt a searing pain across my chest and saw that my shirt had been torn through, and a long, bloody gash lay deep in my flesh. Dark red lifeblood ran down in rivulets and soaked my ragged clothes, staining the cold bricks that supported my shaking body.
My mind was growing foggy. Ribbons of discordant colors swam before my eyes. My body jerked and shook involuntarily, threatening to fall. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and with each pulse scarlet rivers seeped out of my hundred wounds. I swayed and staggered away from the brick wall, as if I stood on a storm-tossed ship. My breath came in broken gasps. Tongues of fire shot through my ribs with every shallow heave.
My head throbbed and pounded, and my vision grew dim. I could feel my pulse weakening.

I could feel myself dying.

I choked a ragged sob as I stumbled and fell to the rough concrete beneath me, hidden in an alleyway. No one saw me. No one would see me. Just as I had lived alone, also would I die alone.
Unable to move, my blood staining the ground, I let out a last, shuddering sigh, and sank into the bleak, clutching darkness.

I died.



Why is death so cold.

It's just like life.

My mind was cloaked in a web of languor. It was dark, so dark, but I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. Strident, bleary sounds wove around in my head. Pain throbbed and seared through my entire body. These were the things I was aware of. These, and the numbing, overwhelming chill seeping into my bones, my lungs, my heart, my soul. All familiar feelings, and not unexpected.
But then, I noticed something entirely new.
Warmth.
Not the kind of intense, burning warmth you feel in front of a fire. It was the soft, soothing warmth of an embrace. I felt it on my face, my arms, my chest, where fiery tendrils of pain had shot through only moments before. I felt it seep into my searing lungs and bruised ribs, and I sucked in deep breaths of air.
Air?
Why would I need air? I was dead, wasn't I? Where was the warmth coming from? How could I feel such things, even though I was no longer alive? I didn't think I was merely unconscious. I'd been unconscious before, and this was different. It felt . . . darker.
Then I heard something. Something other than the bleary dissonance fogging my thoughts. A voice.
The words were unintelligible, but with the sound of the voice came the sensation of light behind my closed eyes. Warm light. Not painfully bright. Deliciously soothing. I wanted to grab hold of it and never let it go.
The voice murmured gently, lulling me, the warmth caressing the throbbing bruises and searing lashes that agonized my body.
As the pain subsided, I was overcome with a great sleepiness, like a warm, loving embrace, lulling me to sleep. I was suddenly no longer concerned with where the healing warmth and light and soothing voice were coming from. I didn't care that I shouldn't have been feeling anything at all.
All I wanted to do was sleep.



Tell me, young one.

How did you die?

My eyes opened, but I was not awake, and I couldn't process what I was seeing. Swirls of color ran in gentle rivulets before my eyes, some I couldn't even name, but it wasn't chaotic. Everything fit together in a visible harmony; a galaxy of color, with me in the center.
I was awestruck by the glorious myriad weaving around me. Little points of light dotted the colorful cadence like swirls of stars. I was so taken with the sight that I was startled when I heard the voice—the same that had lulled me to sleep—speak again.

How did you die?

For one panicked, fleeting moment, the familiar pain of the searing cuts and dark bruises flashed before me. It was so real . . . I fought the urge to cry out. If I did, it would only grow worse. I had learned long ago never to utter a sound of protest when the monster came for me.
I straightened my shoulders and shook my head, trying to dispel the horrific memories. I looked around me to see if I could pinpoint the origin of the voice. It seemed to emanate from . . . everywhere. It flowed and resonated through the colors, through the little stars, and through me. As much I feared to, I had to answer.

“A monster killed me.”

The whole world around me seemed to shudder and sigh, as if in sorrow.

Indeed.

The colors turned softer, faded into deep, gentle blues and soothing violets. They swirled around me, some of the stars catching in my hair.

You have suffered much, young one. Too much for you to bear alone.

My breath caught in my throat as the colors shifted into an ethereal skyscape, a sea of stars and swirling galaxies. I felt the warmth again, felt it envelope me like a hug. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I couldn't understand why. My soul shuddered in reverence.

You bear many scars.

I looked down at my hands, my arms, my chest. Long, bloody gashes ran across them in scarlet stripes. I lifted my hands to my face and felt the sting of the cuts and bruises there.

You have been alone for far too long, young one. No longer shall it be so.

I noticed that the colors were slipping, fading away. Light was rising in the night skyscape. Dawn was coming.
“Wait,” I pleaded. A swirl of stars flickered and wove through my hair, shining dimly.
“I don't want to leave . . .”
The streams of fading color wrapped around me in a warm embrace.

Fear not, Loved One. You will not be alone.

The rising light grew brighter, drowning out the last of the night sky. I was overcome with a sudden drowsiness, and my eyes fell shut. I could feel the warmth caressing my face as I slipped away, back to the land of the living.

You will bear My Light inside of you, Brave One, and with it you will cast out darkness. Do not fear.

You will never be alone again.

Now awaken, Bearer of Scars, Courageous of Heart, Strong of Spirit . . .

CHILD OF GOD!

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  • February 18, 2018 - 6:29pm (Now Viewing)

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5 Comments
  • Lumisade

    UGH I DON'T KNOW BUT IT'S REALLY NICE TO HEAR!! THANK YOU!!!


    almost 2 years ago
  • LackingASocialLife

    UGH WHY ARE YOU SO TALENTED THIS IS AMAZINGGGG


    almost 2 years ago
  • Lumisade

    Thank you two so very, very much! You've no idea how encouraging your words are!

    Skyward Bound, I know EXACTLY what you mean; I had the exact same problem for years! I wanted so terribly to write good Christian fiction, but I was always afraid I would misrepresent something, so I scared myself away from trying. Eventually, though, I got fed up with that; I wanted to write, for crying out loud! So I began praying. A lot. I prayed for inspiration, and I know that the Lord has called me to write, so I prayed earnestly that He would breathe an idea into me, an idea that was totally given and inspired by Him that would impact a lot of people. And soon, my prayers were answered. He gave me an idea, in a very unconventional way. I was listening to some music, and I heard a song titled 'Forever' by Tracey Chattaway. And from that song, the Lord gave me a vision. It was as simple as this: I saw two kids dancing and singing in praise to the Lord underneath a vast canopy of stars, on the rooftop of a skyscraper in a massive city. There was no fear in those kids; just absolute joy. They had forgotten the cares of the world, and praised Him in complete peace. And from that vision, from those two kids, coupled with an idea I got for the main character Kit earlier, eventually morphed into Kit and Cat (a character who has yet to be introduced). So my advice to you is to PRAY. Pray that God would give you inspiration, that you would be a mouthpiece for the message He wants to impart through you to the rest of the world. Read the Bible, develop your relationship with Him even further, and that fear of failure will disappear.

    God bless you, and I wish you joy in your future writing endeavors!


    almost 2 years ago
  • Plausible.Poems

    I like how you added on to your previous story. Keep writing! :)


    almost 2 years ago
  • † Skyward Bound †

    Wow... Just... wow. I have no words. For one, amazing. For two, excellent EXCELLENT writing. How you explained everything was extremely good, and the words flowed like water. I've had several attempts at writing Christian fiction, but shy away from it because I just don't want to do anything wrong or mess up the message I'm trying to send. You, however, do it so beautifully, and I was captivated. If you could somehow give me any advice? If so, that would be greatly appreciated. Again, excellent job! ;3


    almost 2 years ago