Liothan was a volatile creatur. Carlos del Puente Stories

 Liothan was a volatile creature.

Liothan was a volatile creature, his skin shining with the light of the full moon that hung short in the sky, and his eyes, two stages that moved constantly, reflecting every emotion that passed by his being. His hair, a mass of disheveled tufts that moved to the wind, seemed to contain their own lives, dancing around his face every time he stopped. He walked along the path that served along the forest, its soft and light steps, making it look light and ethereal. His lips moved constantly in a whisper that became increasingly intense, every sound echoing around him.

Around him, the branches of the trees twisted and tangled up, forming a natural roof that offered her shelter and at the same time made her feel trapped. The shadows they created moved to the rhythm of their whisper, dancing with each step it took, creating a mirror of their own being on each sheet and each branch. It was an endless cycle of silence and sound, of light and dark, which accompanied him at every step. The earth under his feet seemed to sink every time he raised his foot, making him feel that he walked not only through the forest, but through his own fears and doubts.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. He was an old man, with the gray beard that hung his chin and sunken eyes that seemed to see through Marina's own soul. His presence was not friendly, his rigid posture and his hard gaze made her feel vulnerable, exposed. He stopped, the whisper on his lips went out, and the sole light that illuminated him was that of the moon that leaked through the leaves. The old man raised a finger, pointing to his chest, and his mouth moved without emitting sound, his clear message: "You know you should not come here."

Liothan slowly retreated, the earth stirred around him, reflecting his growing fear. The old man approached, and his eyes became even more penetrating, his presence became oppressive. He could feel the pressure of his expectations, the burden that represented his sole existence, and the fault he dragged behind each step. His heart was beating hard on his chest, and the whisper that accompanied her became a shout, echoing in the forest, waking the animals that hid in the shadows. The shadow and light cycle intensified, and the old man's figure became increasingly monstrous, his shadow lengthening arms that surrounded her, trying to catch him in a hug that felt more and more oppressive.

He ran, his bare feet sliding on the wet ground, the land that moved around him was slippery. The old man did not chase her, but observed it, his shadow grew and stretched, wrapping him in an increasingly dense cloud. Every branch that passed reminded him of his past, every scar on the trunk of a tree, to each fight he had faced. His breathing became panting, the adrenaline running through his veins. The forest became thicker, and the moonlight weakened, hiding the exit.

It was the shadow of her own addiction cycle that pursued her, every whisper she emitted became more powerful, resonating in every corner of the forest. The moon that once guided it now felt distant, its light faded behind the black cloud that was the shadow of the parental figure. With each gasp, the forest became a mirror of its emotions, the sounds multiply, its steps echoing in an echo around it.

His mind was filled with memories of his childhood, the constant pressure of being the perfect offspring, which will not fail. The voices of his parents, particularly his strict and demanding father, echoing in his ears. The road was transformed into a maze of expectations, each turn and every recess full of voices that accused him, who judged him. The whisper became a cyclone in his mind, and the forest moved to the rhythm of the emotional storm that unleashed inside.

Liothan stopped, panting, the earth trembling at his feet. He looked around, the shadow of the old man now raised in front of him, blocking the road. His own shadow was lengthened, involving it completely, and surrounded it, making it feel that the cycle closed, that the black cloud that harassed it was its inevitable destiny. His heart felt crushed, guilt and insufficiency seized him.

But at the bottom of his being, a spark of rebellion burned. It would not allow the expectations of others to consume it completely. With a heartbreaking cry, which broke the stillness of the forest, raised his arms and confronted the shadow that was approaching. The whisper became a statement, a promise to herself that she would break the cycle. His internal light lit, and the shadow of the old man retreated, trembling at the determination emanating from him.

As the light expanded, the figure of the old man dissipated, and the moon reappeared, shining with renewed splendor. The forest became calm, and the branches of the trees stopped twisting. The road became clear, showing the exit that was once hidden. With every step it took, the shadow faded slowly, and the weight of expectations was relieved.

Liothan turned around, the figure of the old man was no longer visible. The cycle of his whispers stopped, replaced by a deep and slow breathing. He had faced his fear, his own addiction, and the shadow that pursued him. Now, with every step he took, he felt lighter, the earth was no longer sinking, and the forest seemed to be encouraged around. The road opened before him, not without obstacles, no doubt, but with a new force to conquer them.

By Carlos del Puente relatos