a story about purity lurking too close to the shadows - can you guess the moral?
| "Hush," she breathes, gently skimming her fingertips along the dusty walls. "You wouldn't want to wake them, would you?" The two searching souls continue to skip along the corridor, sending sparks into the blackened light bulbs overhead and giggling malevolently as they dance. Cracking open the back door ever so slightly, the first soul peeks out into the night, watching as the moon swallows the sun. With calculated caution, she pulls her other half closer, refusing to let his limp hand stray. Their echoing footsteps cease as they step onto the muddy field that surrounds the derelict building at the end of Direview road. The main stream was the only path separating the north and the south of Dirlham county and featured an unwelcoming and very rickety bridge a mere half meter wide. The dangers which came with crossing it stopped most people's curiosity short, and such was its purpose. 'Ricket Bridge' was built after the pure ones broke down the old March passage. The newer, more risky wooden one was put up instead as a precautionary warning. Urban legends told stories of those crossing the bridge and admitting that they would rather have died falling off of it than succumb to witnessing the horrors which lay beyond it's wooden planks.
Just beyond the main stream, rounding off to the left, with threadbare walls, was old Miller's house. Abandoned in the 1700's, Miller's place was absolutely forbidden access to all human life forms for obvious reasons. Closing in onto the back of the house, the excited souls veer closer to the trees. Dipping below the willows, their slim figures cast looming shadows across the dark matted panels of leaves which line the forest floor. Even with nothing in sight, the hissing can be heard, the spitting and trickling of spirit and stream. Lurking around tree stumps and materializing from dust piles, an empty area is seldom truly void of soul. "We shouldn't be here," he hisses, cursing under his breath as the wind howls through the branches and threatens to run off with his voice.
It was the first time she had heard him speak in this tone since their last encounter with the blackened ones. "Hush." she whispers once again, this time in full volume and without playfulness at breath. Their bickering was short lived however as an eerie stillness encompassed them. The entire planet seemed as if it had become completely frozen. As if minds were muted and thoughts were nil. The hissing stopped and the murmur vanished; all that remained were the short, fast breaths of the two souls, exhaled air slipping into previously undisturbed crevices of rock and leaf piles.
A clearing, which was not clear at all, stretched out far beyond them and was shadowed by multiple spinning vortices of all and every shade of black. The pure white souls flicker on the outskirts of the clearing, fidgeting in anticipation. White light and black darkness seeming to coexist for one sole moment as the two stood on the brink of total evil.
Though as untold in stories of triumph and ever-afters, the bad come in numbers and the good come in twos. The black always many and the good always few. So the paired souls joined the vortexes and became black as the ones which danced before their eyes, doomed to spend that eclipse and every one which followed as one with the force which used to scare them the most.