A little girl

A little girl is sitting on the ledge, looking over the edge, she could see only so far down, it looks as if there is no end.

Just pitch black all the way down.

The only source of light is the sliver moon resting in the night sky. Behind her, lies a forest, she was always curious about what was inside the forest. She was told never to go near the forest nor the cliff, yet there was a path skirting the forest edges.

The only rule she disobeyed was going near the ledge. She didn't see what is wrong with it, she wasn't going to fall off or jump to her death.

She looks over once more before laying down among the soft green moss. She left her legs to hang over the edge, as her mind wanders, something is moving in the forest watching her lay there.

A mist starts at the end of the cliff, tendrils raising and curling almost reaching her when she brings her legs up, curling her body up as her eyes slowly close with sleep.

She curls up into a ball as cold starts to set in. The tree branches sway with movement as if the wind was blowing through, yet there was not a movement through the leaves.

Her eyes close with each breath she takes, letting sleep slowly come in.

Over the ledge, they came slowly but carefully, as not to wake her. What was in the forest came out stalking at an even pace, the grass not stirring.

The creatures stood back to add a new figure, something so tall and hidden in plain sight. Tendrils fall out beneath it, leaving wisps of smoke in the air as if it was burning slowly. The eyes, black as coal yet they show so much else. The darkness in them seeps into the soul, its hands reach out around the girl, the cold seeping through her skin.

They reach inside of her, tearing her from the inside out, piece by piece. They slowly squeeze her heart, sending pins of fear through her body. She lays there now wide eye, watching them. She can't move, she is paralyzed. Her mind is going in circles.

They slowly leave, the grass burning as they left leaving a trail.

She knows now why she wasn't supposed to go there, she feels scared, doesn't know what to do so she lays there. No longer moving she knows how it feels to be truly scared of what was in her. Her mind racing, heart pumping. She fears them coming back, and yet she fears slumber for they may come to her.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the story dear Nomo. I could feel the fear, the drive of the tale. I liked how you described the world near. Thank you dear friend for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote

[barleygirl]

Your storytelling feels simplistic, but your meaning is deep. Great use of symbolism in an allegory. I'm catching that it's risky to live on the edge, a place where demons may rise up from the depths or the freaky wind may blow us into a nether-world dreams. At the end, this narrator has not yet conquered her fears, a necessary element to learning to live on the edge (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[John the Baptist]

Early on, you knew this one wasn't going to end well. Don't know if it's a simple horror story or a myth that tells a truth about human consciousness. Fear itself can do more damage than slinky slimies that creep out of the woods.

[T.S. Ulmus]

Demons heating and stealing through the mist, a sliver Moon resting in the sky past dusk. Terrific imagery and good story crafting.

[Nomo]

Sometimes I feel as if only a few will understand where this is coming from. There is always something there.