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The Lost Child

Greece, London

It was thousands of centuries ago in ancient greece. I’d like to say I’ve recovered since then but if I were to lie, I’d only be reinforcing the pain that I’ve already acquired to myself and worsen the pain that I know I still have. Must I admit that I’m afraid? That I’m afraid to share any of my fear because I might not be sharing the rest of what I don’t know that’s there?

The deepest parts of the forest held the worst secrets. This was a rumor that was passed down for centuries. A shack occupied a forest up north, in a what seemed to be, an excavation of the forest floor. The shack was made out of rotting oak wood and was painted over in a dusty emerald green and had rusting Iron amongst the edges and corners. It was embellished in poison Ivy; a plentiful amount of dust and grime. A god, Lidiyan, lived here. He lived alone and wished for it to stay that way until the day he died. He was cold hearted and closed off from the rest of society. He knew if he were to come into contact with another mortal or immortal, old emotions would begin to appear once again, and he’d lose control.

It was early December. Snow was dusted across thin branches of trees that surrounded the small shack in the isolated forest. Lidiyan had planned a deal with a mortal being, and it was being verified and validated at the table in the dining room. Right before the deal was signed, the other person who was apart of it, named Lucifer, refused to sign.

“How can I trust a man like you? I’d rather drop all my goods into the ocean. I’d rather that because I keep my dignity while doing so. I’m baffled to how I’ve allowed myself to come this far in an agreement.”

Lidiyan began to fill with rage. He was never a choleric man but he knew If he were to speak, there would be strong acrimony in his speech but he couldn’t care less considering that he had every right to be indignant towards the situation. Within a matter of seconds, Lucifer began to pick up on the the acrimony in the situation. He began to feel fearful for his life, and he had every right to feel that way.


2 months later and Lidiyan was a changed man, he hadn’t learnt from his mistake but promised himself to be a better person for his new daughter, Phoneda. He was determined to give her a better childhood than he had ever had.
Days, weeks, months, passed by astonishingly quickly when Lidiyan was with Phoneda. He grew to love her more than he had loved himself. One day, Phoneda wanted to go to the lake to swim, as Lidiyan had promised her so, days before. She rushed outside and headed towards the lake. She skimmed a rock across the top and as each jump the rock made passed, a ripple followed. She saw the face of a ragdoll sitting beneath the water. She ran towards it and held it up in the palm of her hand once she retrieved it. Lidiyan came out of his home only to see a whirlpool of water begging to consume Phoneda. He looked at her face one last time. It seemed that in her mind, she wasn’t being consumed with water but fate. A combination of despair, fate and the past. And with that Phoneda was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Lidiyan was ready to fall to his knees, but then noticed that the doll that once lay in her petite palm now lay besides her. He ran up to her. Selfless. Fear. Fear began to consume Lidiyan. All other priorities or emotions were pushed aside. He ran up to her. Frail and cold, lifeless even. The water rose into a swirl and spat out a new ragdoll. Topped with long golden tresses and ocean eyes. Just like Phoneda’s.

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