The Shadow Realm

  The old woman, Willow, traced the faded ink of the first sentence with a trembling finger. “Everyone is in a rush to reach somewhere late.” It had been years since she’d last opened this notebook. Notebook full of old stories she had written as a young writer, with many abandoned ones in there. She felt a change in the energy of the room - the scent of damp earth replacing the familiar aroma of old paper.

A faint whisper, brushed her ear. “You left us, Willow.”

Startled, she looked around. Shadows in the corner of the room darkened and started moving. A young man with kind eyes, who she vaguely recognized, materialized from the gloom. Beside him stood a fierce, dark-haired woman, her gaze holding a mixture of sorrow and accusation.

“Who… what are you?” Willow stammered, her heart pounding.

The man spoke with a heavy voice. “We are the unfinished. The words you left unwritten, the journeys you abandoned. Because our stories have no end, we have no peace.”

The woman stepped forward, her voice resonating with a quiet desperation. “The shadow realm claims all who are left unresolved. We fade with each passing year. Our purpose… unfulfilled.”

Willow felt a pang of guilt. Life had intervened, as it often did. Deadlines, responsibilities, the irresistible draw of new ideas - they had all conspired to push these stories into the far corners of her mind. She had never considered the consequences for the characters she had brought into existence.

“But… it was just a story,” she whispered, trying to understand the reality of their spectral presence.

The shadows around them intensified. Willow could sense the pull, the encroaching emptiness that threatened to consume these long forgotten figments of her imagination.

A wave of resolve washed over her. It wasn’t too late. The story might be old, the initial spark dimmed, but the embers still glowed. She read out the unfinished story to them, as the two exchanged a hopeful glance. Willow picked up her pen, the familiar weight grounding her. The air in the study seemed to lighten as Willow dipped her pen in ink. The scratch of nib on paper a welcome sound, as the two faded back into the shadows.

Willow immersed herself once more in their world. She would not abandon them again. She owed them their resolution, their chance to escape the shadow realm.