ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
March 29, 2015
With an entrancing narrative style, The Keeper by MoonshineChild is a piece that invites us to contemplate its nuances.
Featured by SingingFlames
Literature Text
Ai-la came to me when she was eight years old, dressed in a faded hospital gown, with her feet and arms bare and littered with coloured Band-Aids from IV drips. Other than being remarkably short and skinny, there was nothing peculiar about her appearance—she was yet another child who had unfortunately fallen ill to a fatal disease.
When I first found her outside the House in the dead of night, she was staring blankly at the black sky and shivering. I was immediately able to tell she was a newcomer by the look of her skin, translucent but slowly becoming an opaque white beneath the light of the gold lanterns.
“There are no stars here,” I said as gently as I could in the silence, not wanting to frighten her, as most did not take well to their unwitting transportation to the Other Side. The child remained still. “What is your name?”
She tilted her head and her dark eyes focused upon me, intense and perceptive. She took in my masked face and black suit, her expression unreadable. An old soul, I realized under her innocent scrutiny, surprised—I had not encountered one for more than a century, and never in the form of a child. “Ai-la,” she finally whispered, sounding out the two syllables like a song.
“Bro-ther.” A happy laugh, like the chime of a bell.
A strange sense of foreboding settled in my stomach. “Ai-la,” I repeated softly, her name a binding incantation. “Welcome, Ai-la. My name is Keeper.” She blinked owlishly at my words, but said nothing. Leaning downwards and taking one of her small, bony hands in my gloved fingers, I led Ai-la out of the artificial garden, and as was customary, through the wooden doors of the House where hundreds of other ancient souls lay dormant.
That night, I stood outside the House and lit another paper lantern, setting it afloat towards the inky sky that was already dotted with hundreds of the same golden lights, another makeshift star with an everlasting flame.
From inside the House, Ai-la began to sing. Her soft, haunting melody was the only sound in the oblivion of the realm. For the first time in these solitary centuries, I fell into a deep slumber at my post.
The building was burning. Gunshots echoed throughout the small room. The other soldiers were shouting, their tones cold and commanding. The little girl screamed, high-pitched and pained.
Guilt. It weighed down upon my uniform, dyed in the colour of fear.
The child, yet another stranger to me, was pleading now. “Please, Sir! I will do anyth—”
Please let me atone for my sins.
Forgive me; this was not what I fought for.
Forgive me, dear sister. I don’t deserve to live.
When I came to my senses, I realized dazedly that the world was burning.
Angry, red flames had engulfed the House, my House. The spirits inside began to stir. They groaned and screamed. They pleaded to be freed from their wooden prison, and the ethereal fire heeded their wish. One by one, the flickering flames licked savagely at their invisible chains with hot tongues, reducing wood to splinters and splinters to ashes. It was like air leaving a popped balloon, the symphony of hundreds of lost souls escaping the House all at once, desperate to find new life.
One by one, the hundreds of lanterns in the sky dimmed like a trail of burnt-out stars, gradually returning the night to its empty, eternal darkness. The odour of charred paper filled the air. Slivers of black and gold drifted down towards me, settling around where I stood.
“Stop,” I wanted to cry out, but my throat was burning along with everything else, filled with a bitter, suffocating smoke. I tore off my mask, a reminder of the void within me, in a futile attempt to ease the pain. My dead, rotting heart was aching; it was suddenly filled with something I had not felt ever since my arrival here centuries ago: human emotion. I reached towards the vanishing lights, but to no avail. The names of the spirits had already left my grasp, the shape of those words on my lips forgotten, intangible.
“They are not yours to keep,” came a childish, admonishing voice next to me.
In her hand, Ai-la was holding a single match: a red flame danced upon the tip of it, a colour more vibrant than I had ever seen in this lifeless world. Her eyes were wide, pupils glimmering gold in the hazy smoke, her face serene.
“Sister?” I managed to rasp through the agony.
Ai-la smiled, and the burning receded from my lungs, replaced by a gentle, soothing warmth. She tugged on my fingers with a startling strength, and I was powerless, unable resist her will.
“Keeper, it’s time to return home.” Her voice was louder and deeper than any little girl’s when she uttered those final, liberating words. I clung to Ai-la’s outstretched wings, defenseless, and let myself drown in her voice, shutting my weary eyes and surrendering to the universe.
The House continued to burn behind us, the fire unforgiving and all-consuming.
Redemption.
Like a leaf in the wind, I rose into the sky with Ai-la guiding me. Enfolded in the tremendous peace of the cosmos, together we flew through the passages of space and time. A blinding, white light surrounded me, bleeding bright into my veins as I was encompassed in its radiance. In that moment, every single memory of mine passed before me, cleansed at last from my burdened mind as the clocks of age were reversed, my soul set free.
I squinted with watery eyes as a kaleidoscope of pure, impossible colours filled my vision. The steady pulse of someone’s heartbeat, my heartbeat, much too loud, thundered in my ears, reverberating through my tired bones and leaving me trembling at the core. The sensation of a thousand needles, pushing into my body and raking up my spine, danced upon every inch of my hypersensitive skin, each a delicate reminder of my newfound corporeality.
I gasped for Earth’s air like an infant breathing for the first time—an ordinary miracle.
When I first found her outside the House in the dead of night, she was staring blankly at the black sky and shivering. I was immediately able to tell she was a newcomer by the look of her skin, translucent but slowly becoming an opaque white beneath the light of the gold lanterns.
“There are no stars here,” I said as gently as I could in the silence, not wanting to frighten her, as most did not take well to their unwitting transportation to the Other Side. The child remained still. “What is your name?”
She tilted her head and her dark eyes focused upon me, intense and perceptive. She took in my masked face and black suit, her expression unreadable. An old soul, I realized under her innocent scrutiny, surprised—I had not encountered one for more than a century, and never in the form of a child. “Ai-la,” she finally whispered, sounding out the two syllables like a song.
“Bro-ther.” A happy laugh, like the chime of a bell.
A strange sense of foreboding settled in my stomach. “Ai-la,” I repeated softly, her name a binding incantation. “Welcome, Ai-la. My name is Keeper.” She blinked owlishly at my words, but said nothing. Leaning downwards and taking one of her small, bony hands in my gloved fingers, I led Ai-la out of the artificial garden, and as was customary, through the wooden doors of the House where hundreds of other ancient souls lay dormant.
That night, I stood outside the House and lit another paper lantern, setting it afloat towards the inky sky that was already dotted with hundreds of the same golden lights, another makeshift star with an everlasting flame.
From inside the House, Ai-la began to sing. Her soft, haunting melody was the only sound in the oblivion of the realm. For the first time in these solitary centuries, I fell into a deep slumber at my post.
The building was burning. Gunshots echoed throughout the small room. The other soldiers were shouting, their tones cold and commanding. The little girl screamed, high-pitched and pained.
Guilt. It weighed down upon my uniform, dyed in the colour of fear.
The child, yet another stranger to me, was pleading now. “Please, Sir! I will do anyth—”
Please let me atone for my sins.
Forgive me; this was not what I fought for.
Forgive me, dear sister. I don’t deserve to live.
When I came to my senses, I realized dazedly that the world was burning.
Angry, red flames had engulfed the House, my House. The spirits inside began to stir. They groaned and screamed. They pleaded to be freed from their wooden prison, and the ethereal fire heeded their wish. One by one, the flickering flames licked savagely at their invisible chains with hot tongues, reducing wood to splinters and splinters to ashes. It was like air leaving a popped balloon, the symphony of hundreds of lost souls escaping the House all at once, desperate to find new life.
One by one, the hundreds of lanterns in the sky dimmed like a trail of burnt-out stars, gradually returning the night to its empty, eternal darkness. The odour of charred paper filled the air. Slivers of black and gold drifted down towards me, settling around where I stood.
“Stop,” I wanted to cry out, but my throat was burning along with everything else, filled with a bitter, suffocating smoke. I tore off my mask, a reminder of the void within me, in a futile attempt to ease the pain. My dead, rotting heart was aching; it was suddenly filled with something I had not felt ever since my arrival here centuries ago: human emotion. I reached towards the vanishing lights, but to no avail. The names of the spirits had already left my grasp, the shape of those words on my lips forgotten, intangible.
“They are not yours to keep,” came a childish, admonishing voice next to me.
In her hand, Ai-la was holding a single match: a red flame danced upon the tip of it, a colour more vibrant than I had ever seen in this lifeless world. Her eyes were wide, pupils glimmering gold in the hazy smoke, her face serene.
“Sister?” I managed to rasp through the agony.
Ai-la smiled, and the burning receded from my lungs, replaced by a gentle, soothing warmth. She tugged on my fingers with a startling strength, and I was powerless, unable resist her will.
“Keeper, it’s time to return home.” Her voice was louder and deeper than any little girl’s when she uttered those final, liberating words. I clung to Ai-la’s outstretched wings, defenseless, and let myself drown in her voice, shutting my weary eyes and surrendering to the universe.
The House continued to burn behind us, the fire unforgiving and all-consuming.
Redemption.
Like a leaf in the wind, I rose into the sky with Ai-la guiding me. Enfolded in the tremendous peace of the cosmos, together we flew through the passages of space and time. A blinding, white light surrounded me, bleeding bright into my veins as I was encompassed in its radiance. In that moment, every single memory of mine passed before me, cleansed at last from my burdened mind as the clocks of age were reversed, my soul set free.
I squinted with watery eyes as a kaleidoscope of pure, impossible colours filled my vision. The steady pulse of someone’s heartbeat, my heartbeat, much too loud, thundered in my ears, reverberating through my tired bones and leaving me trembling at the core. The sensation of a thousand needles, pushing into my body and raking up my spine, danced upon every inch of my hypersensitive skin, each a delicate reminder of my newfound corporeality.
I gasped for Earth’s air like an infant breathing for the first time—an ordinary miracle.
Literature
I am dog!
I leap up onto the couch, watching the dust jump and dance in the sunlight leaking through the blinds. I circle three times on my favorite cushion (nah, four times, just to be safe) before curling up in a little ball, haunches nearly grazing my muzzle. My eyelids are heavy as I sigh deeply, completely bathed in warmth and comfort and...sl...ee...p…
Intruder! Intruder! Oh my goodness, my shining moment has arrived! Loud barks erupt from my throat as I stand suddenly, the fur on my back rising tall along my spine. I growl and snap my jaw ferociously, snarling loudly. I am...intimidation! I am pure predator! I am dog!
I
Literature
addicted
my words struggle to reach you
I feel them claw the air
desperate for breakthrough
as if still you're there
rendezvous prescription
waiting for refill
adrenaline affliction
addicted to the thrill
Literature
here are my words
i used to dream whole cityscapes and skylines,
ocean cities and coves washed over with waves,
terrifying, brilliant, unable to touch me.
i used to be able to talk to trees,
to speak in palms and eyes-closed silences
and the sure roughness of bark under my fingernails.
i used to be able to sing
and believe that believing made me better,
believe that joy sounds bright and crescendos.
i used to be someone who tripped on her words,
spilled out in sloppy sentences and sentiments,
used to be someone who could 'sit at a typewriter and bleed'
and in bleeding turn the hurt beautiful.
i used to close my eyes and fall into feeling,
trace the right word
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Reincarnation is something that I would like to believe in.
What do you think about my sentence structure and character development? How is the clarity of the story—did you understand the plot? Any other comments or constructive criticism are welcome!
Critique for tWR: thewrittenrevolution.deviantar…
What do you think about my sentence structure and character development? How is the clarity of the story—did you understand the plot? Any other comments or constructive criticism are welcome!
Critique for tWR: thewrittenrevolution.deviantar…
© 2015 - 2024 dreamelancholia
Comments37
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I don't believe in reincarnation, but I've always been fascinated with it as a device for storytelling.
I really enjoyed this. Your writing style is concise, but also with a strong knack for metaphors.