Hey beautiful people,
It took me a little while, because I had writer's block I think....
But I managed to write another part of the story... It might still change, because I feel it needs something more.
but this is what I have for now...
Please note that there are parts in the story written in "Sranan Tongo", a language spoken in my country Suriname... If you have questions about it, please let me know.
For those who missed the stories, here are the previous parts:
Part 1:
https://ecency.com/hive-161155/@cloeetjuh/my-short-story-for-which?referral=cloeetjuh
Part 2:
https://ecency.com/hive-161155/@cloeetjuh/part-2-of-my-short?referral=cloeetjuh
Part 3:
https://ecency.com/hive-161155/@cloeetjuh/short-story-with-no-name?referral=cloeetjuh
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part 4:
Before us rose the Door. A colossal archway of petrified kankantri roots, twisted like broken ribs against the mist. Its surface wept with drowned history:
●18th-century slave irons bleeding rust into the current
●Shattered Maroon pottery etched with serpentine resistance symbols
● Plastic bottles labeled "Fernandes" in ghostly faded red.
At its core something shimmered like oil on water.
Faces pressed against the surface; a child clutching a wooden doll, an old man with an evil grin, a Dutch coin gleaming between his lips, a dark woman swollen with storm cloud shadows.
“They are not lost, ” Leba murmured, their voice find me through the river's trash. “Only unclaimed. Swallowed when plantations burned… canoes capsized… hope drowned. But your Ancestors await beyond the Door. But first, their kin, you, must sing their names in krutu fires on the banks. ” But it’s not yet your time…
Kraw’s smoke coiled around my ankles, his dark eyes flaring.
“If you break that seal before it’s time, Kunu drowns us all. Ancestral rage floods worlds. ” Liran brushed a hand over the roots. A faint blue handprint glowed beneath her touch. “Your Winti curiosity stirred them. Leba used Neri’s tears to calm the lock. Not steal it. ”
A skeletal hand shot from beneath me and locked around my ankle. “Mi lasi… mi oso… ” it wept. I’ve lost… my home…
Leba moved smoothly. Pressed a plastic-wrapped palm not against the grasping bones, but over a young Maroon girl’s face trapped in the Door. “Yu nen de in a ati fu ati, ” Leba chanted. Your name is in the heart’s heart. De ben wan fu tai yu dja, ma mi de dja fu krin pasi gi yu!! Leba let out a deep sigh and started praying a few words, his prayer a song…
“Mi no kari Mama fu kon na'oso, Mi no kari Tata fu kon na'oso. Ma Leba doro, Ferekete, ManLeba.
The skeletal fingers released. The girl’s face softened into peace. “These bags, ” Leba said, their silver eye holding mine, “drift here from city gutters. Carry prayers tossed by the poor,the lost and the forgotten. I wear them as armor. Not trash. ” It doesn’t make me fake but rather carries my story, yours and of the ancestors.
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Today's part was short... But I decided to post it anyway because I haven't posted in so long!
Hope you guys enjoy it! All feedback is welcome!
#freewriters #dailyprompt #Shortstory #Writersblock #Ecency #hive #creativeoutlet #blockchainwriting