I am a prince embarking on a long journey home from battle. It is a cold, dark early morning and I am traveling north on a path through the forest. I am alone and cold and still have a long way to go. My muscles ache and my feet are sore, but I continue on the dark and lonely path.
Even with my determination to return home, I find it necessary to stop and take a rest. I found a fallen tree stump on the edge of the path, an ideal spot to have a sit.
I was contemplating the distance remaining in my journey when a bright light suddenly caught my attention. I stood up to have a look around and identify the source of the light. I saw a small circular orb hovering to the east of me, over the forest, just above the treeline.
The orb was small enough to fit in the palms of your hands if you held them up and together. The orb glowed bright enough to illuminate the ground beneath it, but not bright enough to blind my eyes.
I stood there and watched it with awe and curiosity as it just hovered over the forest. I wondered what it was. Is it heavenly? Is it something from another world? As I stood there trying to identify what it was, the orb began to move towards me. My curiosity turned to anxiety. I looked around again, observing as far north and south on the path as I could. I looked to the treeline on my west side and confirmed that I was truly alone.
Before I knew it, the orb was hovering directly over me on the path. My anxiety became fear and I stood there frozen. The orb flickered as though it was trying to speak to me. “What is it that you want of me’” I asked. The orb just flickered again.
Before I could ask the orb another question, it began to move back towards the East, again hovering over the forest just above the treeline. I just stood and watched. The orb changed direction and returned back towards me, only now with greater speed until it was again directly over me.
The orb flickered again. I knew now that the orb was trying to communicate with me. “What do you want me to do,” I asked. The orb again traveled towards the east over the forest, just above the treeline. I now understood that the orb wanted me to follow it into the forest. I nervously and cautiously exited the path to the east and entered the forest.
I made my way through the forest until I was standing directly under the orb again. The orb flickered and continued to travel east just above the treetops. I followed its path. Strangely, my nervousness and anxiety began to ease as we traveled further East into the forest. It was as though the orb was comforting me along the way.
I still did not know where the orb was taking me or what its intentions were with me, but I was no longer scared. On the contrary, I felt my excitement growing the further we traveled. “Where are we going, what could it be,” I thought to myself.
I don't recall how far we traveled into the forest, but we soon emerged out of the forest line and onto the edge of a large open field, an oasis in the middle of a vast forest. The orb continued until it was hovering over the very center of the field. I followed hoping that the orb’s purpose for me would finally be revealed.
I stood there in the middle of the dark field. The ground under me illuminated by the orb that was still hovering directly over me. The orb no longer flickered at me. It just hovered there. My excitement as I traveled through the forest has now turned to confusion. I don't understand why I am here standing in the middle of a dark field. The orb is no longer communicating with me.
I began to scan the treelines all around me, desperately looking for some type of clue or sign as to why I am here. As I looked towards the East, I could see that the treetops of the forest on the Eastside of the field were beginning to illuminate. Brighter and brighter as though something bright was moving towards us in the distance.
I could soon make out the shape of an orb, identical to the one hovering over my head in the field. The second orb was approaching the field from the East, moving west over the treetops.
As the second orb began to hover over the field, I could make out the silhouette of a person emerging from the treeline onto the field. The second orb continued towards myself and my orb that was still hovering over me. The silhouette in the distance followed its orb. The silhouette moved closer to me and I could tell that it was a lady. A little closer and I could tell that it was a princess.
We were soon standing together in the middle of the field, our orbs both hovering over us. As the princess and I gazed at each other, both orbs began to flicker to get our attention. The princess and I looked up towards them. The two orbs suddenly merged together and became one. The orb streaked to the heaven at a speed I can hardly describe until it was no longer in sight.
The sun then rose from the horizon and I gazed upon my princess and her upon me. The once cold field had warmth. The flowers bloomed and the trees of the forest danced in green. We took each other's hand and somehow we knew that we were meant to be. I looked at the heavens and finally understood what the orb was…...It was FATE!! The End
About the Creator
Sean Johnson
A father of two. I have always had a creative personality and a wandering mind. I served 24 years in Law Enforcement. I now spend my time letting my creative outlet grow.
https://www.facebook.com/sean.johnson74
Keep reading
More stories from Sean Johnson and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Highway
A long journey traveling home in my car. I am on a desolant two lane highway for a long stretch. In the distance I can see a silhouette of a figure standing on the side of the road. As I approached it, I could tell that it was an old man. I haven't seen another vehicle for miles and I grew concerned for the old man. Is he lost or disoriented, wandering in the middle of nowhere? I thought to myself.
By Sean Johnsonabout a year ago in Fiction
She Smiled Every Day, But No One Asked Why
She smiled every day. Not the kind of smile that demanded attention. Not wide or loud or dramatic. It was small, polite, practiced—something she had learned to wear the way people wore shoes before stepping outside. Necessary. Expected. Invisible. People loved her smile. They said it made her look strong. What they never asked was why she needed it so badly. Every morning, she stood in front of the mirror and adjusted her face before adjusting her clothes. She lifted the corners of her mouth just enough. Relaxed her eyes. Smoothed the tiredness away with habit, not rest. The woman staring back at her looked fine. Fine was convincing. Fine was safe. Fine meant no questions. She had learned early that sadness made people uncomfortable. When she was younger and cried too openly, adults told her to be grateful. Friends told her to stay positive. Strangers told her others had it worse. So she stopped explaining. She stopped sharing. She stopped crying where anyone could see. Instead, she smiled. At work, she was known as reliable. The one who stayed late. The one who listened. The one who never complained. When stress filled the room, people leaned toward her calm like it was something contagious. “You’re always so strong,” they said. She nodded. Strength, she learned, was another name people used when they didn’t want to look closer. At home, the silence was heavier. No one asked about her day because she answered before the question could form. “It was fine.” Always fine. The word filled the space like furniture—useful, unmoving, impossible to trip over. At night, when the world quieted, the weight returned. Thoughts she had carefully avoided all day lined up patiently, waiting their turn. What if this is all I am? What if no one ever sees me? What if I disappear slowly and no one notices? She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting breaths instead of dreams. Her phone buzzed often. Messages asking for favors. For advice. For reassurance. Rarely for her. She answered anyway. Smiling emojis replaced honesty. Short replies replaced explanations. She became fluent in sounding okay without being okay. People loved that about her. The breaking point did not arrive with drama. It arrived quietly, like everything else. One afternoon, while standing in line at a café, the barista looked at her and said, “You’re always smiling. You must have a good life.” It was meant as a compliment. Her chest tightened. For a moment, the words stuck in her throat. A thousand truths pressed forward, desperate to escape. But the line moved. The cup was handed to her. And she smiled. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.” That night, she cried for reasons she couldn’t fully explain. Not loud sobs. Just tears that came steadily, without urgency, as if they had been waiting patiently for permission. She cried for the girl who learned too early how to hide. For the woman who had become invisible behind her own kindness. She cried because she was tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of being easy to overlook. Tired of smiling when no one asked why. The change began with something small. The next time someone asked, “How are you?” she paused. Just for a second. “I’m… managing,” she said. The words felt dangerous. Honest. Real. The person nodded and moved on. Nothing collapsed. No one panicked. The world continued. Something inside her shifted. She began to notice how often people used her strength as an excuse not to care deeper. How easily smiles were mistaken for happiness. How silence was confused with peace. She started journaling at night. Not pretty words. Not inspirational quotes. Just truth. Messy and unfinished. Some nights she wrote only one sentence: “I needed someone today.” One evening, a friend looked at her differently. “You seem tired,” they said. Not accusing. Just observant. She almost denied it. Almost. “I am,” she admitted. The room did not fall apart. The friend did not leave. Instead, they listened. It wasn’t a miracle. It didn’t fix everything. But it mattered. She realized then that being seen wasn’t about being loud. It was about being honest with the right people. She did not stop smiling altogether. Smiles weren’t the enemy. Pretending was. She began letting her smile rest when it needed to. Letting silence speak when words failed. Letting herself be human instead of admirable. Some people drifted away. Others stayed closer. That told her everything she needed to know. One morning, standing in front of the mirror again, she noticed something new. Her smile looked different. Softer. Less forced. It didn’t appear on command anymore. It arrived when it wanted to—and left when it needed to. For the first time, she didn’t adjust it. She left the house as she was. Later that day, someone asked, “Are you okay?” She considered the question carefully. “No,” she said. “But I’m learning.” The words felt like freedom. She still smiled some days. Other days, she didn’t. And slowly, gently, she learned this truth: A smile can hide pain—but it can also return once the pain is finally allowed to speak. And maybe the real strength wasn’t in smiling every day. Maybe it was in letting someone finally ask why—and staying long enough to answer.
By Inayat khan3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.