So this might not be a part of today's prompt, but I have just finished another part of my story and I would like to share it here!
The first part for those who have missed it:
https://ecency.com/hive-161155/@cloeetjuh/my-short-story-for-which?referral=cloeetjuh
Name Ideas are most welcome and please let me know what you think of the story so far!
Part 2
Refreshed, aligned, and fully present in this reality, I decided on a stroll. Time to seek out old companions... because even after so many visits I always looked forward to the Companionship forged across dimensions. Stepping into the corridor, the hush felt deeper now, expectant. The soft glow of the adaptive lamps (candlelight for some, captured starlight for others) illuminated the beautiful, everchanging patterns in the carpet.
I rounded a corner, leaving my room behind me. That’s when I saw Liran. She stood by the elevator doors, right under the "MAINTENANCE" sign. Her skin was smooth like dark stone, with glowing blue and gold lines underneath. She wore a uniform that mixed a bellboy’s outfit with what looked like old burial robes. Her buttons shone like tiny lightning bolts.
“You’re buzzing, ” she said, not looking at me. One of her eyes, with a keyhole-shaped pupil, was glued to the elevator crack. The other eye, a swirling hourglass, watched me. “Still carrying the living world on you.
"Are you fully Grounded?”
I nodded, though grounding here never felt like it did back home.The air here vibrated differently, thick and electric. “Good. ” She tapped the elevator door. It rang out low and deep. “The doors to the Surinamese Spirit Woods are shaking tonight. That book you read? Woke up old ghosts. ”
Of course. Books here were never just books. I should’ve known reading about Winti would stir things up. Liran stepped away from the doors. Her hair was twisted ropes with clicking cowrie shells and bits of bone. “The library’s third aisle is… sighing. Like broken memories. Yours?” “Not mine, ” I said. But the air smelled like rain and bitter flowers... her smell. She gave a quick moon-white smile. bridge-builder, as she often called me. Walk with me. ”
“Ghost stories follow you, I fell in step beside her. The buzz under my skin quieted. With Liran, "maintenance" was never about fixing elevators. It was about keeping the darkness from swallowing the light. And honestly? After the noisy living world, her quiet strangeness felt like home. I lingered in the hallway's embrace, breathing air that tasted of lightning and wet earth. Ghost-lights flickered like fireflies trapped in glass lamps, casting long shadows that didn’t quite match the walls. The hotel was whispering tonight. Floorboards sighing secrets, pipes humming low Maroon melodies.
“Come, ” Liran murmured, her keyhole eye fixed on a water stain spreading across the ceiling like dark ink on parchment. “The Corantijn is dreaming. Your Winti book woke its ghosts. ” Guilt prickled my neck. I’d only wanted to understand the kra dances, called winti preys and why they use a krabasi… not stir ancestral storms. Then a scream tore through the silence. Not pain. But what sounded like a river choking. We found Neri(The watra mama) sprawled in the Sabaku Lounge, riverwater pooling around her like a liquid shroud. A huge wound visible below her ribs. Though she wasn’t bleeding water, but bleeding darkness. Leba stood frozen beside her, holding onto a knife carved from petrified mangrove root. Plastic bags rustled at their feet like nervous birds. “Leba… stole my tears, ” Neri cried, seaweed hair plastered to her cheeks. “For… the Door… ” My gift ignited before I could think. It slammed against Leba’s energy field , and there it was... that same hollow stillness I’d always distrusted flooded my mind and my senses. Too quiet. Too still. Like plastic pretending to be skin. Liar. Monster. Fake.
“THE SANCTUARY HAS RULES!” The words ripped from me, so raw I could feel the aggressive energetic imprint it was leaving behind. “Drop the knife!”
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That was it for today's part! I already know what follows, but I'm still working it out!
* The Corantijn is a river in Suriname, Where its dark waters meet the sea, even the Atlantic holds its breath. *
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* Winti is part of The Surinamese Maroon culture and traditions *_
The Leba is a Winti Entity know for its rags& trash Clothing, (essential to the story)
#dailyprompt #freewriting #freewriters #shortstory #part2 #ecency #hive #writer