Forget Not Hope | a short story

Hello, all! ^^ So these past few months have been… hectic. Not just in my life, but with everything that is going on in the world. So much so that I oftentimes just wonder if this is all the world has come to. Hate, anger, and violence. If that is what reigns in the world and if there is truly any hope at all.

But today, I sat down to write.

I’ve been struggling a lot with writing these past few days. Especially seeing as I have a three-page edit letter for Island Keepers that I wrote to myself that is over 1,500 words long filled with a lot of structural issues that shall be most torturous to fix.

But instead of a new novel I’d been planning to write or Island Keepers, this came out.

So… yeah, hope you enjoy.

~ ~ ~

Marigold and I kneel on the dirt by the weeping willow. The willow’s browned, shriveled branches hang over us like a guard. Snow lies around the roots, and the dirt is cold as ice.

Marigold’s hazel eyes are bright with silent tears. Her brown hair is tangled and matted, as always. I want to reach out an arm to comfort her, but I am frozen like a statue. Tears run down my cheeks as well, while my heart feels as if it has been ripped wide open.

Fia stands over the two of us. But though she is still and silent, I see the tears streaking down her pale, freckled face.

None of us can say anything.

Until finally, Marigold lifts her trembling voice, “Dove?”

I look up at the mention of my name and bite my lip. “It’s time,” I whisper. “She is gone. They have taken her.”

A tiny, choked sob escapes Marigold. “Taken her life, you mean.” She clenches her fists so hard her knuckles turn white. “I hate them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them,” she whispers in fury.

I stay silent.

Mother had always known this day would come. She always knew things like this, somehow. She’d only had two final wishes, before her death.

The first, to be buried beneath the Ever Willow. The huge willow tree that’d stood here for thousands of years, the willow tree that’d been home to nests of countless skysongs – the silver birds that sang hope to all those who would hear.

And the final…

I turn to Fia.

Fia bites her lip. “She is safe,” she whispers.

I swallow. “Good.”

Mother’s second wish.

That our sister, Evelyn, be sent across the Misted Seas, with our brother.

“They won’t find anything,” Fia had protested.

For the Misted Seas were exactly what their name said they were. Seas that surrounded our island home, completely covered in mist.

No one had ever wanted to travel the Misted Seas. We’d never needed to.

But now that the Silver Guard had taken our home…

“What if they drown?” Marigold whispers. “Or get lost?”

“Evelyn won’t,” I say. I can still remember our older sister. Tall. Strong. Brave. “She’ll find something. I know she will.”

“Then what about our home?”

To this, I have no answer.

No answer but the words that’d been ingrained in me since birth.

When ruin comes
and shadows swoop from the sky,
forget not hope.

When the sky falls
and the oceans turn against you,
forget not hope.

Remember the skysongs
who first came here,
and sang life and magic
into the land.

Through the clouds
there lies light.
And the night will break
to let through dawn.

So carry on.
Carry on.
Forget not hope.
Forget not hope.

My voice is quiet as the wind as I sing the lyrics of the song in a whisper.

The first and last song ever sung by the skysongs.

The first, when they created this island.

The last, when they vanished.

Fia joins in as well, as does Marigold. If the Silver Guard heard us, we’d be thrown to the dark prisons in half a second.

But we are alone.

Three orphan sisters, beneath the weeping willow.

No.

Not alone.

Shakily, I lift my head to the clouded sky.

Though Mother is dead, though Evelyn and Liam are gone, I know we must continue on.

How, I do not know.

But Mother did not die for us to give up.

Lia did not sacrifice herself for this land, only to have us surrender to the Silver Guard.

Carry on.

And that is what we must do.

I close my eyes, saying one final prayer, before I get to my feet, looking up at the sky.

The Silver Guard may be strong.

They may have the power of swords, of blood, of death.

But we shall carry on.

Through the night.

To dawn.

Forget not hope.

Forget not hope.

~ ~ ~

So that’s my short story! I haven’t really posted many short stories on my blog before, but I really do think that this short piece really reminds me of why I write — to spread hope. And I hope y’all found a bit of hope in this short story. Let me know down in the comments what you think of this!! (And if you think I should post some more short stories!)

Oh, yes, and I also wanted to hint at something super exciting coming on the blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So, yeah….. on a scale from one to ten, would any of y’all possibly be interested in a writing contest where your short story shall get posted on my blog? 🙂 If thou art confused… all shall be revealed tomorrow………….

Till next time,

-Isabelle