The Lanterns of Lost Possibilities
What Could Have Been, Illuminated
By GoldenSpeechPublished about a month ago • 1 min read

Every year, a mountain village celebrated a quiet ritual. Residents wrote unchosen paths—dreams abandoned, words unsaid, chances missed—onto small paper lanterns. When released, the lanterns didn’t float upward like normal. They drifted sideways, weaving between trees as if searching for the lives they might’ve belonged to. One evening, a girl wrote, I wish I had been braver. Her lantern circled back, hovering in front of her until she lifted her gaze. Only then did it rise into the sky. Some said the lanterns didn’t carry regrets away—they simply waited for the moment a person chose to step forward without them.


Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.