LUNA EDITH
Bio
Writer, storyteller, and lifelong learner. I share thoughts on life, creativity, and everything in between. Here to connect, inspire, and grow — one story at a time.
Stories (218)
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Dear Younger Me, I Didn’t Betray You
Dear Younger Me, I Didn’t Betray You I’m writing to you from a place you once dreamed of but could not imagine clearly. Not because you lacked vision, but because you were busy surviving. I know you thought the future would arrive like a rescue—loud, obvious, triumphant. I’m sorry it didn’t. I’m sorry it came quietly, carrying both relief and loss. But listen to me carefully now: I did not abandon you. I carried you until I could finally rest.
By LUNA EDITH18 days ago in Poets
The Christmas We Forgot to End. Content Warning.
December descended like a thief in snow, wrapping the small town of Ashwood in a cloak of white. For Emma, it was the kind of winter that smelled like fresh cookies and forgotten dreams. She’d spent the morning baking with her grandmother, the same rituals they’d performed every year since she was a child – sugar cookies cut into stars, hot cocoa laced with nutmeg, the scent of orange and clove wafting from the simmering potpourri.
By LUNA EDITH19 days ago in Fiction
Recess of the Soul
In the faded photographs of my childhood, I see a girl with windswept hair and laughter that echoed like a promise. She chased butterflies in fields that smelled of wet earth and possibility. Recess was a kingdom where rules didn't bind her; imagination was the currency, and freedom was the prize. No clocks ticked loud enough to cage her hours. No voices whispered "not yet" or "not enough."
By LUNA EDITH20 days ago in Humans
The Gardener of Saint-Antoine
The garden on Rue Saint-Antoine did not look like something you inherited. It looked like something you apologized for. I stood at the rusted iron gate on my first morning as its owner, keys heavy in my palm, wondering how grief could leave behind so much responsibility. My aunt had called it a gift in her will. A place of continuity. A space worth saving. I remember thinking she must have been kinder than honest.
By LUNA EDITH22 days ago in History
Fire That Keeps Us Turning
Within the quiet chambers of minds— of elders and of children still learning— unsaid intentions flicker and breathe, moving in time with the pulse beneath our ribs. They bind us to a center we rarely name, a living knot that refuses to loosen. Voices rise like distant chants, echoing through memory’s hollow halls. A soft refrain repeats what we already know— that stories never truly end. Sacred words circle endlessly, uncovering truths we thought were buried, pulling us forward with naked hands. We do not know where the road will bend. The spiral unwinds without warning. Still, we grip the wheel and sail on, searching for something solid to stand upon. A wild flame settles into a guide, and parted waters stretch wide enough for courage to pass through. Our riches are not counted in gold, but in lessons carved by heat and time. From the living core of existence, through chance sparks of rhythm and motion, a revolving fire awakens, setting our direction alight. Above us, stars stack themselves endlessly, each one a witness to the burning night. At their glow, minds soften, souls align, and something ancient stirs between us. The turning flame gathers its strength there, lifting our spirits into motion once again. The wisdom earned along this path is paid for in resistance and resolve. Those once pursued become the keepers of truth, bearing both scar and insight. They inherit the chase they once feared, moving forward with eyes that finally see. Change survives because it is fed. The fire never sleeps—it adapts. Life reshapes itself in glowing fragments, revealing new designs in the blaze. We are raised inside destiny’s furnace, formed like art pressed from human clay. Our riches are not counted in gold, but in lessons carved by heat and time. From the living core of existence, through chance sparks of rhythm and motion, a revolving fire awakens, setting our direction alight.
By LUNA EDITH24 days ago in Poets
Unrecognized Minds, Unspoken Lives
I am tired of being unrecognized—not for what I do, but for who I am. Tired of watching friendships thin out, of rooms growing quieter, of learning that losing people doesn’t always make noise. Sometimes it happens slowly, politely, until one day you realize you are alone.
By LUNA EDITH26 days ago in Psyche
Quiet Rain, Open Hearts
Love is often quiet, not the loud declarations we see in movies. It is in the small gestures, the gentle touches that tell someone you are here. I met her on a rainy afternoon. The streets were slick, and the sky held a gray sadness that made the world feel softer. She was standing under a small awning, her notebook pressed to her chest, waiting out the rain. I asked if I could share her space. She smiled, and something unspoken passed between us.
By LUNA EDITH28 days ago in Poets
