Collection #6 - Unseen
My Guide
Her plan was to get back early.
The cold wind scratched her face as she danced between the black ice on route to Coffee and Coffers.
But another dancer moved in the dark. Familiar, somehow.
She scuttled, forgetting her regular spot and mocha, until reaching the park entrance.
“Stop. Let me see you.” The dancer vanished into the long grass.
A thousand moments passed. Strangely calm.
“Aagghhh,” she gasped as it gripped her arm, pointing toward the forgotten pavilion door, a dim glow emanating.
She realised.
“Dancer!? You’re…my shadow?”
“Far more, Olivia. Step through and dare embrace what is yours.”
Photo by Fernando Rodrigues on Unsplash
Silent Whisper
He closed the Zoom call and he punched the air. He knew he’d won the contract.
“What’s it all for though, H?”
Whos’ there? he yelled. Silence.
It had just turned Winter and he was with Bella at the new Italian on the high street. Ready. She returned from the bathroom, and he got down on one knee. She said yes.
“Is this really what happiness looks like H?”
That you again? Who are you? Silence.
Months flew by as he felt more pressure to be something. Someone.
“Become the real you, H.”
I’ve heard you before.
Yes.
I will.
Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash
Follow The Silver
“Please, God, keep me safe from harm.”
And every night, he felt it: a quiet presence, soft, steady, unseen.
One evening, walking home from football practice, he noticed a silver strand trailing behind him— like moonlight on water, flickering, calling. It showed the paths he’d taken, the dangers avoided, the football fights escaped.
Over the years, it taught him quietly. But one day, angry, he tore it.
“You only show what I’ve done, where I’ve been!”
Hollow, Pietro prayed again.
This time, the silver thread appeared ahead, weaving a path forward.
“I am here, your energy, always guiding you home.”
Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash