Hey, I'm sorry this took so long! I had a few different ideas for the story, but the first ones I tried didn't seem to fit. If you have any constructive criticism / requests, I'd be glad to hear them!

Gaia's favorite place in the world was the Garden of Mada, the one place where the faeries still whispered. She would always come back to the garden, anxious to know what they were saying. In all the stories fae was told as a child, the faeries were always faer favorite- kind, wise, teaching their lessons in clever ways. Many other scorned her for believing in such things, but most of them had never been to the garden. Most of them had never heard the faeries' voices- soft as cream, bright as sunlight, powerful as sin. Gaia had never known anything else so real and so wonderful.

Fae walked happily through the garden, no paths created and none needed, the grass tickling her ankles. The flowers in this spot were younger than her, quiet yet eager in their beauty. She sat down in the grass, looking at the blooms of the other flowers around faer, and waited for the voices fae knew and loved so well. But they did not come.

Gaia didn't know to be sad, confused, or angry- perhaps all at once. Fae waited and waited. The faeries were always on time for her- what had happened to them?

Anxious now, she left the garden with her heart matching the pulsating, rapid pace of the world around faer. Her city was especially busy now, since the queen would be visiting soon, and everyone was trying to look their best for her. Gaia, with no idea where to begin, decided to go home. Faer older sibling, Ocimau, was smart, and they always listened to Gaia; they would have some ideas.

Ocimau, like everyone else, was busy getting ready. They were about to leave for their job preparing the town square for the queen's arrival. "Why don't you come with me, and you can look there?" they suggested after listening to Gaia's explanation. 

Town square was a big place with lots of people that Gaia could ask about her missing fairies. She agreed.

The town square always excited Gaia in a nervous sort of way. Life was buzzing all around; some of it beautiful, some of it strange, some of it frightening, all of it interesting and real. Gaia could give little thought to how the others would judge faer questions about faeries; she was beyond what they thought. But fae couldn't be surprised when she didn't get any answers- though fae felt her anxiety grow. With nothing left to do and no more clues to follow, Gaia started to look around, hoping to see the shimmer of a tiny wing, hear their ethereal voices. She wandered the shops, looking at intricate necklaces and odd machines. And when the workers weren't looking, Gaia slipped into their back rooms and snooped about.

By the time she reached the last shop, Gaia's hope was shrinking while her fear was growing. Still, fae went through the same routine. When she snuck into the back room, fae immediately knew faer tenacity had paid off. Her faeries were here, and they were all in cages.

Gaia ran to one of the cages, trying to set the faerie inside free, but it was locked. Before fae could start to look for a key, a voice called out. "Hey, you! What are you doing in there?"

Gaia drew in a sharp breath. There was no way fae could talk her way out of this. But she had to figure out why the faeries were here, trapped. So Gaia did what fae could: she asked.

"Why are the faeries here? What are you doing with them?" she asked, hoping the tremble in her voice wasn't so obvious.

"What's any of this stuff doing here? It's for the Queen! We were told faeries are some of her favorite decorations. Now move!"

"But faeries aren't decorations!" Gaia protested as fae emerged from the room.

"Get out!" The shop owner shouted. Gaia scurried away. In the distance, she could hear Ocimau calling faer name.

"Where were you?" they scolded. "You can't run off like that! I thought you were- Gaia? What's wrong?"

"They've captured the faeries! They're going to use them for decorations- they- they put them in cages! How could they do that?!"

Ocimau calmed Gaia down and suggested that they go home. She agreed, defeated.

Fae was up all night, thinking about the faeries, about what she could do to help them. Could she? Ocimau had told faer that they would talk to the shop owner, but what could that do? 

Fae felt tears on her cheeks. She thought about faer days in the garden; how when everyone else gave her advice that didn't make sense or demands that had no reason, the faeries knew what to say to her.

Gaia sat up suddenly. She knew what to do. She grabbed a flashlight, a piece of paper, and a pen. She'd use the faeries' power- and her own.

When the shopkeeper went to work the next day, there was a note pinned to the door, fluttering in the chilly breeze. 

It requested freedom. 

I don't have time to write anything right now, but let me know what you think! 

Thank you!  I am glad you like it.  I don't think I will change it much, just a little polishing.

It Could Have Been Beautiful

by Luminescence, a girl with an undecided pen name 

~~

friday, first week of april. morning. “the boat, the sea, and the sun (and i’m dying here without you)”

The sun is rising over the ocean, and he is here, watching. Watching, and dying. 

He stands in a boat, in a way that can hardly be called standing. He is leaning against the mast, well aware of the blood seeping out from his chest onto the sail, staining it a dark red. It would have been beautiful, were the circumstances different.

The boat, his boat, is tossed roughly among the waves, like a piece of old driftwood. It should be terrifying, but it isn’t. Maybe because the waves are so many shades of blue and green, and they are beautiful, even now, he thinks. They capture him in their colors, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to leave.

He’s so alone.

~~

friday, first week of april. evening. “you haven’t come back yet (and i won’t sleep until you do)”

When everyone gets back from the sea, the one person who matters isn’t there. So he hovers, waiting, and begins interrogating the first person to walk up the dock- a woman, dressed in faded red.

“Why isn’t he back with you? Did you see him, he-”

The woman sighs, but she knows who he’s talking about. Everyone knows, because this is the only person he would be asking about.

“Didn’t see him today at all. Thought he never left.”

He tries not to panic. He wonders, not for the first time, if his friend knows how much he cares. When they find him, he’ll make sure he does. They’re both alone, he reflects, but they’ve got each other.

He scans the horizon for the boat he knows his friend is in, and the sun is setting, painting everything red and orange. It could have been beautiful, if the circumstances were different.

He knows he won’t sleep tonight. How could he?

~~

friday, first week of april. morning. “maybe i’m drowning in the sun (or maybe i’m just drowning in the colors)”

He doesn’t feel upset, not really. Yesterday, he would have imagined death to be upsetting. But he feels at peace. There’s a dull ache somewhere deep in his chest but he doesn’t know if that’s because part of him will miss this world and all its beautiful chaos or if it’s because he is slowly bleeding out and he is finally feeling the pain.

But he is at peace. If he could have chosen where to die, this is where he would have picked. It feels a little bit like what he imagines drowning in the sun to feel. 

The sunlight is so bright, so blinding, and so big. It’s big enough to entirely fill his vision, and big enough for him to imagine that in a few moments, he will have sailed into it, never to return.

It smells like salt, here on the sea, and the waves are glassy. Blue and green and white light reflecting off of its surfaces, so bright it hurts, but that’s okay, because that is what living feels like. It hardly makes sense that this is what dying feels like, too, but it makes so much sense at the same time.

He thinks about how he got here. How it had rained, so hard, and how the darkness had fallen, soft and comforting as the sun set. And how like always, he had gotten up early, before the sun had even begun to rise, how he had gotten dressed and how he had walked along the soaked beach in the rain and the dark. 

The waves were quiet and loud, and they pulled in and out, in and out. They didn’t rush, but they weren’t lazy. He had wondered if they ever got tired, sometimes. Tired like he did.

It’s stopped raining, and now, he is here, in his boat, in the middle of the ocean, watching the sun rise and drowning in its light.

~~

saturday, first week of april. morning. “all the things that could be beautiful (but they aren’t, not now)”

He has spent the entire night awake, wondering whether it would be crazy to take a boat and go find him. It would be, he knows. He doesn’t know how to steer a boat and he can’t even swim.

So he paces instead. Back and forth, back and forth. Wondering if he’ll ever come back, and wondering whether his friend knows what he’s putting him through. 

He plans to quiz the same woman again tonight, when they all come back. A knot of dread has been forming in the pit of his stomach. 

He has a bad feeling about this.

The sea pulls and pushes, in and out, in and out, as he stands on the beach, staring at the horizon like he can make the boat he’s looking for appear if he tries hard enough. The waves glisten, reflecting the light of the stars drowned out by the morning sun.

The beauty leaves a sad sort of emptiness in him.

~~

friday, first week of april. morning. “death isn’t so bad, really (unless you really did care, but you don’t)”

He thinks about how even though no one knows that he is dying, he doesn’t have anyone to miss him when he’s gone. Not anymore. Well, miss him, yes, but not miss him. Miss him like he’s the only thing in the world, and he has no one who will die a little bit when they hear about his death.

If he thinks back to yesterday and earlier this morning, he knows he didn’t begin dying on purpose. He doesn’t quite know what happened, just that he had been on his boat, and something had happened. Maybe he fell. Maybe something fell on him. It hadn’t hurt, not that he could remember, anyways, but the next thing he knew, he was bleeding out and hanging on to the mast for dear life.

The thought should scare him but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s a sign he’s almost at the end. The sun shines in his eyes and he doesn’t have the energy to squint.

The ocean dances in his vision, infinite greens and blues and bright bright white. Maybe he’s drowning in the colors. The sun is beautiful, rising over the waves, but everything is so bright, and the white drowns everything out.

He closes his eyes and lets the light carry him away. Dying isn’t as bad as he would have expected.

His heart stops beating, lulled to sleep by the waves and the wind and the world.

~~

friday, first week of may. evening. “part of me died with you (and you didn’t even know i loved you)”

It’s been a month and the knots inside his stomach twist themselves tighter as the boats start sailing in.

The woman, the same woman he’s interrogated every night for the past month, for the past month, heads straight for him. He wonders if he’s shaking.

“They found his boat.”

Is it possible for your heart to stop beating but still be alive? And her voice is too quiet and too heavy. He thinks maybe he knows what’s coming next, but he prays to every god he can think of that he’s wrong.

“He was dead.”

Her voice is even quieter and even heavier. He knows she cared about him, too.

“No. No. No, no.”

He can’t believe this. He refuses to believe it. The words bounce around his head, he’s still processing them. The sun is setting, painting the ocean red.

It’s not beautiful. It can’t be beautiful when a part of him is dying right now, dying with the man on the boat in the middle of the sea.

“Yes.”

She sounds like she might cry, but he can’t care right now, not when the world, the entire world, is coming crashing down on him like waves, except the world won’t heave itself back up like the waves do.

“How did it happen?”

He barely knows what he’s saying. He feels so empty, so empty, so dead. It’s like someone else is speaking, because his voice isn’t even shaking and he doesn’t feel his mouth moving, shaping the sounds.

“No one knows.”

~~

friday, first week of april. morning. “i still miss you every day (and you still don’t know i love you)”

It’s been a year since his friend died. His best friend, his best friend who never knew he was his best friend.

It’s been a year since he died, and he still misses him so much it hurts. And he still feels so dead inside.

All the things he should have said, the things he wished he said.

I love you, and you’re my best friend, and don’t die, please, I don’t know if I can live without you. 

But now he has to.

The sun rises over the ocean, turning everything green and blue and bright bright white.

It isn’t beautiful.

~~~

And here is the image: 

Sorry I'm late, I took an short, unplanned hiatus just around when this was posted. The story's really amazing, and I loved the slightly open ending!

I just wanted to point something out in the drawing—the grass and plants are drooping and dry where Gaia is stepping. I don't know if it was supposed to be implied that it's happening because the faeries are gone or not, but maybe you could add something about that. Of course, it's perfectly fine if you can't because fae doesn't seem to notice in the illustration, and the deadline's pretty close. (Again, sorry about the hiatus!)

Can I have a little more time? I'm almost done with the story but I think I just need a few more days. 

@Wreeboo:

Can I have some more time? College classes are swamping me with HW and I haven't been able to get the story done yet... 

Finally finished!  

It had been three years and 165 days since Katai had last seen the love of her life.  Every morning since then she'd woken up when the sun was still new and put on a shining smile for her shop's customers, holding her breath every time the bell over the door rang and hoping she'd catch a flach of the sharp green eyes she missed so much.  But she never did.  And so Katai spent the days selling herbs and flowers to the wrinkled old men and women that still remained in her village.  It was lonely, but the yuong woman was used to that by now.  The faint scents of jasmine and tumeric floating through the air took her mind to a different time and place- before the war, before it all, when it was just the two of them.

She was five years younger then, her pale skin rosy and her blue eyes full of delight.  "So you want adventure, huh?" the tall, silver haired girl in front of her asked. "Guess I'm the one you need then!  I'm Ashida." Katai had taken the girl's calloused, black-gloved hand and never looked back.  And at that moment a thousand charry blossom petals danced off of their trees and into the air, as if the universe itself thought the two belonged together.

And then war and fire tore through the peace.  Katai had never felt such fear before in her life as she watched black smoke rise over the trees and heard the thunder of dynamite for the first time.  The wide, verdant plains she knew so well became ashen wastelands.  Ashida's strength and fierce spirit had kept them both alive through the chaos.  Storms shattered the sky and thousands perished, but they were safe together.

But now it seemed to Katai that it was never meant to be.  She closed up shop early, closing the blinds and blowing out the fragrant candles that lit the room, and followed a narrow dirt path that led to a barren, dusty field.  This was the site of the cruel war's final battle and stood as a memorial for all who saw it.  The sky was surprisingly blue as Katai softly trod across charred grass and flowers.  This place brought back painful memories to all who still lived, but especially to her.  It was, after all, the last place ahe'd seen Ashida.  They'd promised to stay with each other for eternity, but eternity had been much shorter than she'd wanted.  That green-eyed girl, filled with courage and bravado, who'd shot fireworks into Katai's quiet, somber sky, who'd made her smile and laugh and feel like flying even when she felt hopless, had vanished into the smoke without another word.  And for three years and 165 days after that Katai had been painfully alone.

"These sort of wounds never heal, do they," a voice beside her said mournfully.  She sharply turned her head, startled to see a stranger standing beside her.  They were clad in hunter's gear with a blue-green hood covering their face, but their voice was eerily familiar.

"D-do I know you?" Katai asked, frighened.

"I don't suppose you would anymore," the stranger answered, slipping off their hood and revealing a long mane of silvery grey hair. "I... I'm sorry."

Katai couldn't believe it. "...Ashida?" she whispered.  The woman turned, tears glistening in her emerald-green eyes.  I was her.  Older, different, but still the girl she'd loved and missed all these years.  She found that she was crying too, in disbelief and joy.  Part of her wanted to be defensive, to question where Ashida had been all these years, but she couldn't bring herself to.  She was too filled with relief and bliss.  It was like a stormy sky had finally cleared.  Katai threw her arms around Ashida's shoulders and the silver-haired woman smiled through her tears. "I've missed you," she whispered.

Sure thing! I just added a sentence describing the flowers. 

Gaia's favorite place in the world was the Garden of Mada, the one place where the faeries still whispered. She would always come back to the garden, anxious to know what they were saying. In all the stories fae was told as a child, the faeries were always faer favorite- kind, wise, teaching their lessons in clever ways. Many other scorned her for believing in such things, but most of them had never been to the garden. Most of them had never heard the faeries' voices- soft as cream, bright as sunlight, powerful as sin. Gaia had never known anything else so real and so wonderful.

Fae walked happily through the garden, no paths created and none needed, the grass tickling her ankles. The flowers in this spot were younger than her, quiet yet eager in their beauty- though fae didn't realize that today, they weren't quite as brilliant, shrinking as though they'd become frightened of the world. She sat down in the grass, looking at the blooms of the other flowers around faer, and waited for the voices fae knew and loved so well. But they did not come.

Gaia didn't know to be sad, confused, or angry- perhaps all at once. Fae waited and waited. The faeries were always on time for her- what had happened to them?

Anxious now, she left the garden with her heart matching the pulsating, rapid pace of the world around faer. Her city was especially busy now, since the queen would be visiting soon, and everyone was trying to look their best for her. Gaia, with no idea where to begin, decided to go home. Faer older sibling, Ocimau, was smart, and they always listened to Gaia; they would have some ideas.

Ocimau, like everyone else, was busy getting ready. They were about to leave for their job preparing the town square for the queen's arrival. "Why don't you come with me, and you can look there?" they suggested after listening to Gaia's explanation. 

Town square was a big place with lots of people that Gaia could ask about her missing fairies. She agreed.

The town square always excited Gaia in a nervous sort of way. Life was buzzing all around; some of it beautiful, some of it strange, some of it frightening, all of it interesting and real. Gaia could give little thought to how the others would judge faer questions about faeries; she was beyond what they thought. But fae couldn't be surprised when she didn't get any answers- though fae felt her anxiety grow. With nothing left to do and no more clues to follow, Gaia started to look around, hoping to see the shimmer of a tiny wing, hear their ethereal voices. She wandered the shops, looking at intricate necklaces and odd machines. And when the workers weren't looking, Gaia slipped into their back rooms and snooped about.

By the time she reached the last shop, Gaia's hope was shrinking while her fear was growing. Still, fae went through the same routine. When she snuck into the back room, fae immediately knew faer tenacity had paid off. Her faeries were here, and they were all in cages.

Gaia ran to one of the cages, trying to set the faerie inside free, but it was locked. Before fae could start to look for a key, a voice called out. "Hey, you! What are you doing in there?"

Gaia drew in a sharp breath. There was no way fae could talk her way out of this. But she had to figure out why the faeries were here, trapped. So Gaia did what fae could: she asked.

"Why are the faeries here? What are you doing with them?" she asked, hoping the tremble in her voice wasn't so obvious.

"What's any of this stuff doing here? It's for the Queen! We were told faeries are some of her favorite decorations. Now move!"

"But faeries aren't decorations!" Gaia protested as fae emerged from the room.

"Get out!" The shop owner shouted. Gaia scurried away. In the distance, she could hear Ocimau calling faer name.

"Where were you?" they scolded. "You can't run off like that! I thought you were- Gaia? What's wrong?"

"They've captured the faeries! They're going to use them for decorations- they- they put them in cages! How could they do that?!"

Ocimau calmed Gaia down and suggested that they go home. She agreed, defeated.

Fae was up all night, thinking about the faeries, about what she could do to help them. Could she? Ocimau had told faer that they would talk to the shop owner, but what could that do? 

Fae felt tears on her cheeks. She thought about faer days in the garden; how when everyone else gave her advice that didn't make sense or demands that had no reason, the faeries knew what to say to her.

Gaia sat up suddenly. She knew what to do. She grabbed a flashlight, a piece of paper, and a pen. She'd use the faeries' power- and her own.

When the shopkeeper went to work the next day, there was a note pinned to the door, fluttering in the chilly breeze. 

It requested freedom. 

She woke up, shaking, curled next to the cold body of her young brother.  It was dark.  The darkness of despair where no light exists.

"Arandell" she whispered, even though she knew it was useless.  Arandell. . . Arandell. . . Arandell. . .   The echoes of her voice rustled across the empty throne hall, sighing menacingly.

She was still shaking.  Whether it was from the deep cold or the nightmare that lurked in the corners of her mind, haunting her every thought, she could not tell.

They will come, a Nightmare Beast hissed in her inner ear.

"I will fight them", she said aloud.  Imbuing her voice with the sound of confidence, though she had none.

The Nightmare Beasts laughed in her mind.  Hollow barks that wiggled and writhed.  You cannot, they laughed.

"I can", she said, but the words barely escaped her lips and they faded into empty nothingness too soon.

They will come for you and you will fall, their voices were a low threatening rumble.

Hatred flared inside Mandia's heart and she spoke.  Her voice burning as brightly as her hatred did.  "I will fight and I will not fall", she declared, her voice ringing through the hall.  "I will fight the Shadow People who stole my brother's breath with the cold of their making."

You could have done more.  You did not do enough to protect Arandell.

Her heart fire was quenched with the sudden rush of black thoughts released by the words of what had haunted her most.

You could have. . . You should have. . . He would have lived if you had. . .  And it was not the voices of the Nightmare Beasts that said these things.

She shuddered, crying out in pain.  The love she had for her brother and the twisting hurt that wrung her heart when she thought of him compacted into that single cry.

You will fall like your family, and the Nightmare Beasts went into shrieks of laughter.  Cruel screams that pierced the soul like barbed lances.

"Enough!", she cried, her voice cracking.  She kneeled, hunched with her cloak wrapped about the ragged remains of her dress.  Despair welled up inside her.  It's fingers closing around her mind, her heart.  Choking her.

"Enough", she whispered.  "Enough."

Slowly she moved her hands, pressing them together and wrapping her fingers around each other so they formed a cup.  She stared fixedly at them, seeing nothing, her eyes turned inward.  Pushing, pressing, squeezing.  Warmth gathered in her hands.

Her lips pressed in concentration as she pushed more warmth to her hands.  The ball of light cupped by them grew.  Grew, until a ball of golden light surrounded her hands.

She relaxed, staring into the glow, as the shadows flew to the corners of the room.  Far from the warmth of the light.  Her eyes swam with the warm brightness and she saw the faces of her family, taken by the Shadow People.

Memories swarmed through her mind.  Of happy times they spent on holiday, the games she had played through the castle with her older brother, the way her mother caressed her hair, the booming voice of her father as he read to her, the gentle fingers of her older sister as she had helped her dress, and the sweet laughter of Arandell as she peeped into his cradle.

She remembered the fear that coursed through their last moments together.  Her father's strong arms around her, the warm hand of her mother as she tucked a strand of Mandia's hair behind her ear and pushed Arandell into her arms.  The worried face of her sister as she wrapped her cloak around her younger sister's shoulders, the squeeze her brother gave her hand as he gave her his sword.  And the last glimpse she saw of them as the Shadow People crept around their glowing forms.

Her father, the King; her mother, the Queen.  Her brother and sister, prince and princess.

I love you.

She knew what woke her.  They were in a ring around her, closing in.  They murmured; a heart stopping sound that swelled, bouncing off the walls and pillars, sweeping over their heads.

We have come.  And their voices were the clacking of a thousand bones, the hissing of a hundred snakes.

Mandia shrank away, the little glow left around her hands dying away.  She was left in utter blackness.  Only the cold, glowing orbs of the Shadow People's eyes broke the darkness.  But their eyes gave no light, they took the light.  Sucking it from the very air about them.  Leaving their surroundings darker than the darkest night.

She stood, gripping her brother's sword.  Her heart pushed against her lungs and throat, it's frantic pulse throbbing through her body, roaring in her ears.  She gasped for air, her outward breaths crystalizing and falling to the floor with the tinkle of shattering ice.  It grew colder, and colder.

The Shadow People shifted, never still for a moment.  Their insubstantial forms sliding through one another.  The orbs of their eyes stared at Mandia with evil hatred millennia old.  Hatred for what she stood for: light.

We have come for you, they whispered.  Shifting as a form materialized in front of Mandia.  Her heart stopped, before her was the Shadow King; king of darkness.  It looked down on her, a black crown on it's head.  She felt herself being drawn to the large orb eyes.  Closer, closer.

"No!", she tore herself away, shaking from the effort.  Mother, Father!  Lyanda, Theran, Arandell! she cried within her mind.  The words of her elder brother flashed through her mind, "Do not fight hatred with hatred."  She knew what to do now.

The Shadow People were closing in on her, reaching for her.  The King was laughing.  Sounds, thoughts, memories whirled through Mandia's mind, blurring together incomprehensibly.

You will fall, they hissed.

She heard nothing, she was reaching deep inside herself.  Summoning energy, pulling it to the surface.  She began to radiate heat, glowing.  The Shadow People shrank back, growling.

Light pulsated around her, she held her arms outstretched on either side of her.  The sword, still in her hand, glittered as if alive.

She clenched her hands, her face tight with concentration.  Summoning the beat of her heart, the pulse of her blood, the warmth of her love, the strength of her memories.  She gathered these things, holding them together as she glowed brighter and brighter.

In the last moment, the moment between end and beginning, between death and life, she opened her eyes.  Blinded by the light she saw nothing, only felt.  Felt her undying, eternal love for her family, for light.

Her sister's cloak swirled around her, her hair flew about her face, her clear eyes looked ahead.

The Shadow People fled away from her, but not fast enough.  She thrust outward with all she had gathered.  Light exploded.  Brighter that a million suns, warm with the love from all ages.  Nothing was, except light and love in an eternal instant; then -- darkness.  But with it came the sound of a singing bird, greeting the sun as it rose to bath the world in glory.  The Shadow People, gone.

They were around her.  Her mother, her father.  Her sister, her brothers.  Mandia, they said.

We love you.