Ghost born!

In a forgotten village surrounded by dense, ancient woods, there was a tale told about a place hidden deep within the trees, known as the "Birthplace of Shadows." Villagers whispered of a lake that rested there, untouched by time, where the souls of those who met untimely or tragic ends would gather. The lake, they said, had a dark mirror-like surface, and it was here that ghosts were "born."

It was on a foggy evening when young Zara, curious and fearless, wandered into the forest to see this lake for herself. She had heard the story from her grandmother, a wise woman who knew the secrets of the village’s history and spoke often of the spirits that roamed the woods. But to Zara, these were only stories, entertaining but unreal. She didn’t believe in ghosts—or at least, she didn’t until that night.

As Zara ventured deeper into the woods, the air grew colder, and an eerie silence enveloped her. The usual chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves ceased, replaced by a silence so thick it seemed to press down on her. She finally reached a clearing, and there it was—the lake. Its surface was so still and dark that it looked like polished glass, reflecting only the mist and the faint moonlight.

Zara felt an inexplicable pull, an urge to step closer. Just as she reached the edge of the lake, she noticed faint, pale lights hovering above the water. These lights flickered and swirled as though they were alive, dancing in strange, silent patterns. She watched in awe, her heart pounding, as one of the lights began to take form, growing taller, stretching, and slowly shaping itself into a figure—a woman in a long, flowing dress, with a face that held both sorrow and anger.

As Zara watched, transfixed, more lights appeared, each one morphing into a figure. She realized with a shiver that she was witnessing the birth of ghosts. Her grandmother had said that those who died with unfulfilled desires, regrets, or tragic endings would be drawn to this lake, their souls unable to pass on. The lake held onto their pain, transforming it into ghostly forms that remained trapped between worlds.

She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. Then, as if sensing her presence, the woman’s ghost turned and locked eyes with Zara. The ghost’s gaze was piercing, filled with emotions Zara couldn’t comprehend. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out—only a chilling breeze that sent shivers down Zara’s spine.

In that moment, Zara felt a connection, a flood of emotions that weren’t hers—a deep sorrow, a lost love, and a feeling of betrayal. She understood then that this woman had suffered a broken heart that bound her here, to this lake, never to find peace. Each ghost here was tied to their own sorrowful story, and the lake absorbed it, birthing them into a half-life, shadows of who they once were.

The ghost took a step toward Zara, raising a hand as though beckoning her to come closer. Terrified, Zara stumbled backward, breaking the ghost’s gaze. As she turned to flee, the mist around the lake grew thicker, the figures dissolving back into the pale lights they had been before, vanishing into the darkness.

When she finally made it back to the village, Zara collapsed at her grandmother’s feet, breathless and shaken. She shared everything she had seen, and her grandmother listened, nodding with a knowing expression.

"The lake keeps their stories," her grandmother explained softly. "The sorrow of the lost becomes the light of the ghost, and in that lake, they are reborn as shadows, forever searching for what was taken from them."

From that night on, Zara knew the stories weren’t just tales to frighten children—they were warnings, reminders of how fragile life was, and how the pains of the past could bind a soul, making it linger in a place between life and death. She never ventured near the forest at night again, but every now and then, she’d see faint lights flickering among the trees, a quiet reminder of the birth of shadows she’d witnessed by the lake.