Fiction, Writing

Reclaiming of the Soul


All that is left of her is the reflecting moonlight on her midnight hair. The rising mist has swallowed the rest of her and her silken cape. 

“Serena,” I yell, my voice crumbling with the leaves beneath me. 

Where could she be going so late at night? What could be so urgent? 

The moon shines – a flashlight in a dark, musty basement – catching the skeletal trees as they chant their secrets to the blackened sky. 

I know I must follow her, but I am afraid of the slithering shadows and their sharpened claws. 

“You must go to her now.” 

I swirl around and around searching for voice. 

“I can only protect her for so long.” 

It is the mist that speaks. 

I run now, into the forest, my bare feet leaving permanent impressions in the yielding floor. The trees move as I come upon them, opening a passageway, their bony fingers pointing the way. 

The mist begins to clear and I see her now, fallen, sobbing. 

“Serena, what has happened?” 

She looks at me with silver eyes and I turn away in fear. 

Her crying becomes ragged echoing off the tombstones and edges into a howl. I know I must save her, but how? 

I follow her crooked finger as sparks make contact with a metal object against a tree. 

A shovel. 

I run towards the tree, picking it up, and run back to her as quickly as I can. 

Her finger again shoots deep, blue sparks burning a circle into the forest floor and I begin to dig, somehow knowing this is something I must do. 

Clank! Clank! Clank! 

I bend down and wipe the surface of a rusted, metal  box. 

Here lies… 

The rest I cannot see. 

She pulls a large, iron key from her cape and slides it into the box. 

An explosion of light blinds me and I fall against the ground. 

She speaks: 

Oh dearest, fairest light

you know what is right

bring back my gift of sight

this enchanted, moon-filled night

and I will leave without a fight. 

If you turn against me

I will never, ever flee

bring to you such misery

take what’s mine away from thee

and forever you will cease to be. 

She repeats again and again. 

And the struggle between light and dark begins.


Inspired by Soul Food Cafe’s Halloween Prompt “Three”


Due to popular demand I have decided to remove this last paragraph from the story and place it down here so that you can still read it 🙂

I awaken in the softness of my bed. Morning broke. 

That was the strangest dream I have ever had. 

I stand in front of the mirror curling my crooked fingers around the handle of my silver brush raking it through my silky, black hair, my eyes a smoky, smoldering hue of gray.


7 thoughts on “Reclaiming of the Soul”

  1. You know, I have to agree with Leigh. I think I’d lose the entire last paragraph, to be honest.

    However, your prose is lyrically lovely, and the desperation is clearly conveyed. You did a wonderful job with that.

    Good job 🙂

  2. I tend to agree on leaving out the ending and find myself thinking there should be a name for this phenomenon.

    I don’t know about others, but I’ve had the exact same thing happen in my writing. The first time someone else pointed it out to me – “You ought to just end it here…”

    After that I found myself alert to this possibility and have spotted the… “false ending?” – on my own a number of times in my own writing.

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