Life rarely unfolds in a straightforward way. There’s a multitude of clichés that speak to the truth of those words. Sometimes, they’re life altering, while others end up being inconsequential. When I started examining my notes for this month’s micro fiction, I tossed the original idea in favor of continuing Lucas’s journey. Decision made, I returned to my notes on Lucas and Elouise. These two have a destination in mind, and each micro tale marks an important step in their arc.
In a quiet room lit by flickering candlelight, a pair of individuals sit together, one carrying the weight of many lives, the other standing at the threshold of something special. This story is an exploration of memory, magic, and the invisible burdens we choose to carry for others. Lucas isn’t just marked by ink. He’s an anchor to the past. Beneath his skin stir the remnants of those he’s chosen to remember, their presence both haunting and transcendent. Yet when Elouise notices something odd, her curiosity sparks a conversation that will reveal far more than the minutiae. It’ll open a door to legacy, empathy, and the quiet question of whether she might one day follow his path.
It unfolds like a whisper. It’s soft, deliberate, and rich with meaning. If you’ve ever wondered what it means to hold on, for yourself or for someone else, check out the sample below. And if you enjoy the preview, head on over to Ko-Fi and buy me a .
Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.
The nearby candles flickered as Lucas rolled up his sleeves. He rubbed his neck and sighed. Elouise grabbed his arm and pressed a finger against the ornate black oval tattooed just beneath his rolled sleeve. She clicked her tongue thoughtfully before letting go. “Compared to the rest, it’s odd seeing something so… empty.”
Lucas rubbed the tattoo as he leaned back. “I always keep an empty one, just in case someone needs preservation.”
“Why?”
He brushed away the outline of a guest as he shrugged. “In case I meet someone who wants to continue.”
Elouise traced the wriggling form of another bound shade. “What’s it like carrying your guests?”
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