Tiny Light Novels & Stories

He looked at the door, then glanced back at me briefly as if he remembered something trivial, and said: "It’s easy." He slowly raised his hand. At first, nothing happened, but suddenly a faint yellow light appeared in his palm, like a small spark born in the darkness. But it didn’t stay that way; it began to grow, intensify, and become brighter until it turned into a pulsating ball of light. The light was so strong that I closed my eyes involuntarily. I felt a slight sting in them, as if the light was piercing through them.

Where the center of town had once been beautiful and bustling, everything in this pack seemed to flourish at night. Every tree and plant seemed to be full of these little twinkling lights. They casted silver light across every surface, reminding me what this pack had been named for. At closer look, the little twinkling lights weren't lights at all. They were insects, millions of them. Little translucent bodies and large, pixie-like wings. Their inner lights seemed to flicker and dance with the flap of their wings.

The lamp burning on the garden wall. Small. Real. Enough.

His voice blurred slightly in the wind. "I brought you here at last. Didn't you always want to see the stars here?" My spirit floated beside him. My heart ached at the sight of his aged back. He scattered my ashes gently across the surface of the lake. "You will always be the light of my life." I laughed and cried at the same time in the air above him. I felt my spirit slowly fading away. It was a sign that I was about to disappear completely, but I wasn't afraid anymore.

~AT A SECRET LAIR~ The room was small and it smelled of wood and concrete mixed together. There was a narrow bed pushed against one side of the wall, a wooden table in the center, and a single window so high up near the ceiling that even a grown man standing on his toes could barely reach the ledge. The light that came through it was pale and dim, the kind that would give no real information about what time of day it was or where in the world you might be.

Then, I stop abruptly. The tears dry up instantly. I walk back into the center of the room and sit on the floor, burying my face in my palms as I pretend to sob one last time. I raise my eyes just a fraction of an inch, peeking through my fingers. My eyes scan the room, searching. And then I see it. On top of the nature-themed picture frame hanging above Santino’s side of the bed, a beautiful painting of a dark forest there is a tiny, faint, blinking red light. It is no bigger than a pinhead, hidden perfectly in the shadow of the frame’s carved wood.

“You’re here.” I look up. My sight is hesitant, like one stepping into daylight after a long night. And then I see him—the little one. The tiny face peeking from the scarf, mouth barely open, on his forehead—or in my eyes—a faint crescent-like curve, his skin holding that warm, soft light which does not come from the moonstone; his chest rising in slow rhythm. His whole body is no larger than my palm, yet more worlds fit inside him than I have ever seen.

Not a single day in my life. I hug my arms to my chest as I pick across the beach. The mist begins to part, and through the starlight reflecting on the gems, I think I see the glow of a… a lantern. Yes, that flickering, soft amber light is stationary compared to the rippling glow of the stars shining against the gems. The mist parts further, revealing a small, stone building with a single sconce lit on its side, right beside a door.

A teenager, probably around my age—seventeen—hurried behind him, jumping at every command like it was second nature. The lighting was dim, but in a way that made everything feel a little softer, a little more secretive. Those green 'tiffany' lamps, like the ones in that painting with the dogs playing poker, were scattered throughout, casting a cozy, muted glow over the room.

It was a narrow passage fitting about only three people side by side at most. The walls were painted a dark nude shade and the lights illuminating the room were cased in gold lampholder. One couldn't help but marvel in the grandeur. But beyond the grand appearance, Tess noticed things ordinary people usually won't. Like the small cameras that were hidden in the lampholder or the dim lights in the hallway which are used as a means to intimidate the light hearted and break their defense. Tess suspected the light control depends on whoever entered through the hallway.