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Nocturnal Fairy

The Unsigned Writer

Nocturnal Fairies

Short Story By, J. M. Lilin

The lights that flicker and the one’s that just turn on by themselves, aren’t done with the perceptions that the unexceptional human being would instantaneously evoke themselves with. The lights did not behave that way because of an electric malfunction, a storm, a rat…and come now…the light is not haunted. That would simply be nonsense.

It was not the everyday human being that got to see the loveliness unfasten on its own. It was the one’s you wouldn’t expect. It was the young girl who was petrified of the dark, so she discreetly turned on the small lights that ran down her curtains and over her bed post. It was the homeless man, snow tumbling into his gruff hair, sitting beneath the streetlamp alone. It was the writer who sat at a desk in the descending twilight, with nothing but a miniature lamp coruscating over his hand on pen.

The girl was afraid that the shadows would drag her out from under her sheets and into the deep depths of unknown beneath her bed. The homeless man shook and shuddered with the fear that he would be alone forever, and his soul would be similar to that of a desolated lake. The writer was pusillanimous, for he doubted his talent and was sure that he would forever be motivated with nothing but the excuse of a writer block.

As every other person fell into the world of a dreamful fit of slumbering, the daunted threesome would stay awake. Their eyes would rise to the midnight ether, yearning for the stars to come out and scintillate in their gaze as they reflected over their past days.

Instead, their wish was granted in a less familiar way. The strings of lights on the young girls’ curtains would begin to blink on, one by one, flutter after flutter of dazzling luminousness. The streetlamp above the homeless man’s head would wink and flash over the sidewalk, seemingly melting away the snow with its outgoing behavior. And the miniature lamp next to the writer would fulgurate over his words, telling him to pause a moment and contemplate.

Then the lights would begin to glow brighter than ever, and the illumination of brightness would spill, dripping into a puddle that would flood down the walls, down the sidewalk, and over the desk, amplifying and blossoming into something that was peculiar and outlandish.

The lights were alive…yet, they were not called lights from where they came. They were known as the Nocturnal Fairies. If they touched sunlight, they would surely die but it was not the light that killed them, for they were attracted to the light. Their lives were created from those who were terrified of the dark. They were created by those who knew sunlight but no other light.

The Nocturnal Fairies were born to soothe the aroma of light into shedding an armor against the overwhelming darkness that could take any human being into a dream. In the dream, the darkness would flood as if pertinacious and relentless, but the Nocturnal Fairy would only take a step forward with the thought in mind that they knew they could handle it.

Just like that…the Nocturnal Fairies would touch the young girl afraid of the dark. A Nocturnal Fairy would brush past the homeless man. And a Nocturnal Fairy could simply take a nap beside the writer. The Nocturnal Fairies were lights that could transform a monster into a flower…into something that was similar to a star, into something that was only nothing else but possible.

From there, the warmth that was felt was more than the sun. The warmth that was felt was called nothing else. The threesome in the dark would feel their light, and they would evolve into what they could become, transforming their souls into more of what we could call a Nocturnal Fairy. 

Thank you for reading, The Unsigned Writer. If you’re enjoying this site, leave a like, and subscribe for more!

Also Check Out J. M. Lilin’s Photography At, The Crystalline Mirage.

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