Flash Fiction: The Golden Thread

They never told me that heaven wasn’t above me.
They never told me that God lives inside—or that the Earth is more than soil.
But my soul did. And one day, I listened.

I was sitting in stillness, the kind that comes after you’ve cried enough that words can’t reach you anymore. I had hit some kind of wall—not with life, but with my own forgetting. I felt scattered. Disconnected. Like a ghost in my own body. I didn’t want another affirmation. I wanted truth. Visceral, embodied, luminous truth.

So I asked:
“Where are You? Where am I?”

And I felt it—not with my hands, but with something deeper.
A light, just above my head. It wasn’t a vision, not exactly. It was a knowing. A presence.
Warm. Infinite. Familiar.

It pulsed gently at my crown, like a kiss from the stars.
And I heard—not with ears, but within:
“You are the bridge.”

And then it began.

A current of golden light poured down through that opening above my head—my crown chakra. Soft, slow, like honey warmed by the sun. It was the source. God. All that is. Not some far-off being, but the essence of love, flowing into me.

It moved down, threading through my third eye—clearing cobwebs of doubt, sharpening my inner vision.
Down to my throat—unblocking words I’d swallowed for lifetimes.
Into my heart—where it stopped for a moment. And I wept.

Because here, it bloomed.
That golden thread didn’t just pass through me. It activated me.
In my heart, I remembered who I was. Not in some abstract way.
I remembered the feeling of being whole.

But it didn’t stop there.

The light kept moving—down through my solar plexus, reminding me of my power.
Through my sacral, stirring my creativity, my sensuality, my joy.
And then it reached my root.

This is where I thought it might end. But no.

From the root, that same golden light shot down—into the earth.
Through the dirt. Past the worms and rocks. Past forgotten bones and buried stories.
All the way to the core.

And there, at the center of Earth, I felt Her.
Gaia. The Earth soul. Not a metaphor, but a consciousness.
She greeted the light like an old friend. Like a lover.
And then she sent a current of her energy back up through me.

It wasn’t just light anymore. It was Earth and Sky.
God and Goddess.
Spirit and Flesh.

I realized then that I am a channel.
Not in a grand, unreachable way.
But in a natural, birthright kind of way.

My soul is the bridge between Source and Soil.
Between the stars and the stones.
And every breath, every step, is a chance to remember that.

Now, when I walk, I feel that golden thread humming in my spine.
When I speak, I try to speak from the current.
When I doubt, I place my hand on my heart, and whisper,
“Let it flow. Let me be the bridge again.”

Because I am not just a human reaching for the divine.
I am the divine, anchored in the body of a human—
rooted into the heart of the Earth.

And so are you.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie Fluharty