The garden of the moon whispered to Emily. Dancing fireflies clashed with the shadows of the oldest trees, casting spells on curious children who wandered too far after twilight. Beneath the silvery glow, laughter echoed — yet it wasn’t hers. Who, she wondered, played in the fog beyond?
Amidst the winding paths, paper boats sailed in puddles of stars. Each boat bore a secret name: “Emily,” one was called, though her fingers hadn’t carved it. Clouds of soft, murmuring darkness hovered overhead, as the soundtrack of an unseen carousel played on in a melancholic loop.
Rusted swings creaked without wind, and the aroma of candied grapes filled the air. Memories tasted sweet on the tongue, childhood moments slipping away like sand in an hourglass, but woven with threads of something ominous.
And there, across the mirrored lake, a door — it stood alone on the grass, ajar, an invitation clothed in mystery. As Emily’s tiny footsteps followed the music, the grass crunched underfoot, telling tales of footsteps that had walked this way before.
Beyond the Pond