There was once a woman named Liora, who lived at the edge of a forest that few dared to enter. They said it was haunted — full of echoes, shadows, and things better left alone. But Liora knew better. The forest wasn’t haunted. It was honest.
One morning, with no map and a heart that pulsed louder than her thoughts, she stepped into the trees. She wasn’t running from anything anymore — not really. She was walking toward something: herself.
The path was anything but straight. Thorns caught at her skin, and roots seemed to reach up like forgotten memories, tripping her just when she found her rhythm. Every so often, she’d come to a clearing and meet someone who looked like her — but younger, smaller, or quieter.
She met the girl who used to hide under the bed when voices rose. She sat beside her until she felt safe enough to speak.
She met the version of herself who tried to be invisible in crowded rooms, hoping that not being seen would mean not being hurt. She gave her a name and a promise: You don’t have to disappear to be loved.
She met the protector — the fierce one who’d built walls so high even joy couldn’t get in. They stood in silence for a long time, until Liora whispered, “Thank you. But I want to live now.”
With every meeting, she didn’t push them away. She listened. Held their hands. Let them walk beside her. The forest began to change, too — the light came through differently. What once looked like monsters were only trees with stories in their bark.
One night, she came to the heart of the forest. There was no grand revelation, no blinding light. Just a stillness. A moment of peace. The kind that comes when you’re no longer at war with yourself.
She sat down and wept — not from sadness, but from the release. She had not bypassed the pain. She had walked through it. And she was still here. Still breathing. More whole than she had ever been.
When Liora finally left the forest, she didn’t close the path behind her. She marked the trail with ribbons of light, stones etched with words like keep going and you are not alone.
People say she became a guide, though she never claimed to be. She simply told her story, and it was enough. Enough for others to believe that maybe — just maybe — their way through the dark could also lead to light.
And it did.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie Fluharty
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