The Light Through The Leaves Novels & Stories

As soon as the garage door opened, we rocketed forward. Everything around us was a blur, we zoomed through the streets and walkways between buildings and down a road that disappeared into the thick forest I’d watched the sun set behind the day before. We raced along the narrow road into the densest part of the trees, even without leaves on the branches overhead; the sun had a hard time shinning through the trees to reach the ground. Most of the light came from the one headlight on the bike. It was the freest that I had felt in much longer than I could remember. It was like flying through the wind between the trees.

"Feel that? That's the door opening. Don't force it wider. Just let it stand open." Blue light spread from my fingers across the pool's surface. Thin tendrils, delicate, searching. Not the explosive detonation of the gorge or the violent eruption of the forest. Something gentler. The light moved through the water the way roots move through soil, slow and purposeful, reaching for something to connect to.

The light it made. Not the sun. Not the moon. Just the lamp. Small. Real. Enough. The record growing. The formation traveling. The garden complete. The roots deepening. The water still. Rising still. Always.

The trees blurred together as Cana stumbled forward, her legs numb and weak, her body aching with every step. The sun was low, casting soft, golden light that passed through the leaves. It should have been comforting, but after weeks locked away in darkness, the brightness felt blinding. Her eyes squinted as she fought through the pain and exhaustion.

Straight fire—amber, russet, and gold—paints' the trees like they are on fire. And the vibe? It is like you are walkin' through a dream, with sunlight filtering' through the leaves above, casting these dope shadows on the forest floor. Every single leaf is detailed to the max, like Ayana went in with a magnifying glass to capture every little vein and imperfection.

I sniffed, my heart getting heavier and he came closer to wipe my tears. "In our lives, we just don't just live in the light. On the flight, we don't just pass through the light, remember the tunnels? We pass through there, it will be in the dark for a while but there will be light coming out." He murmured, drying my tears.

The thought of them spending time together made Lady Silverwall lose all preconceived notions. After passing through the small hills, a collection of light refracted from one tree, bouncing off into the sky like an aurora. A firefly or two flashed past, their light brighter than the flaming mushrooms. When Phillip removed the last broad ketapan leaf, he could see a giant willow tree that in every tendril gave off a colorful light. Starting from blue, yellow, violet, red, orange, to green. The lights create amazingly beautiful color gradations. Phillip glanced at Louise who seemed also amazed, even though the Lady had visited this place several times. Only that time Phillip was not with her.

It strung garlands of soft light across the wooden buildings, reflecting off wide windows in bursts of blue and red and white that shouldn’t have been there, according to the logic I had known for the last twenty years of my life, but made perfect sense now that I could see the bold tones that made up the world I’d blindly inhabited. If I couldn’t enjoy the mate the Moon Goddess has chosen for me, then I was damn well going to make the most of seeing in colour. I marvelled at the way the light lit the green leaves of the ivy from behind, seeping through and showing darker green veins spreading across the thin membrane of its surface.

I could still hear the murmur of the others talking, concern colouring the tone of their conversation, but I pushed away the feeling of being watched and spoken about. I breathed in a lungful of bitterly cold air. I felt it fog against my lips as I exhaled. But my next breath was warmer, and my next one warmer still. I opened my eyes, right as Rhiannon gasped. “The leaves!” I looked up. Buds were bobbling along the branches of the tree, unfurling before my eyes into bright green leaves, which grew darker the longer I watched. Compound leaves, I noted distantly. It was an ash.

I wasn’t about to let him catch me watching him. I turned my head just in time to see a little girl, no older than seven or eight, standing at the edge of the garden, waving at me. I narrowed my eyes, curious. What was a child doing here? Alone? The girl giggled and turned, darting playfully through the garden paths. Intrigued, I wandered deeper into the garden, my eyes following the little girl as she giggled and skipped out of sight. As I walked, the soft rippling sound of water drew my attention and soon I found myself in front of a beautiful ornamental pond. It was breathtaking; I stood there, mesmerized by the way the water sparkled, forgetting for a moment where I was.