Mom used to read me bedtime stories every night.
I'd lie, tucked into bed, stars in my eyes as she took me through worlds of knights, dragons and castles. Of princesses and thieves, pirates and whales. Every night was a new world for me to explore, a new adventure for me to take.
As I grew older, history books taught me how our world came to be and older, classical literature showed me the art of words.
Maybe it was inevitable that I'd start writing my own stories.
A young girl lost on an island.
A boy discovering love.
A murder and a detective locked in a battle of wits.
A history of men and kingdoms with tales of how they came to be.
And among them.
The story of the Hollow Knight. (Title work in progress)
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A kingdom of bugs, soul, dreams and void. Of wonderful gardens, bubbles, mazes and mud.
Mom had agreed when I told her I thought this story was by far my best. In fact she'd been so impressed that she'd thought of introducing it to a publisher. We'd burn the midnight oil brainstorming of the bugs history and its great kingdom. Slowly bring a new world to life. It was one of the last things I'd done with her.
We'd never got to finish it.
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I hadn't touched it since.
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Until now.
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I stared at the notebooks, covered with dust. There was some fraying at the edges but apart from that they were in pretty good shape. I'd hidden deep in our attic after what had happened to the flute.
I run my fingers over the mixture of handwriting; clunky crooked letters (gods my handwriting was terrible back then) mixed with smooth, elegant cursive.
Even know years later I couldn't hope to compare it to mine.
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I miss you mom.
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Shit.
I fumble for my pocket and bring out the small glass bottle. Unscrewing the lid I pop a single pill into my mouth. It hardly mattered.
It was hard to feel anything these days, even without the pills. The psychiatrist had said something about Alexithymia? Flat affect? I hadn't bothered listening properly. The important thing was I was more numb to emotions, for now at least. They'd said I'd get better but honestly I hoped it didn't.
My thrice timed death.
The hospital bills.
The school's response.
...dad.
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I flicker through my notebook until I find the page.
-no mind to think.
No will to break.
No voice to cry suffering.-
It was better like this. My shoulders relax slightly as I imagine the pill breaking down inside of me, releasing its payload, calming down my nerves. I won't feel the actual affects for a few minutes but imagining it was almost as good.
Yes. Much better.
"Taylor!" the voice calls. Time to go.
I tuck the notebook under my arm and take one last look around the attic before I leave.
The notebooks are already pushing it. I don't want to touch any more fragile memories.
I go down to the kitchen to see dad and there's a flash of relief on his face. He's like that every time he sees me now. He needs to be reminded that I'm still alive. Or that I haven't run away yet.
My lost of emotion wasn't the only thing that had been in the psychiatrist's report.
It was infuriating.
Where was all this before?
"I made lunch?" he says hopefully but I'm already going back up the stairs.
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Before the locker, I would've liked it. Maybe even loved it.
But that was then. Now? I hate it.
I...
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I miss the dreams already.
I don't know why I keep dreaming of Hallownest, why I dreamt of my childhood creation during my brush with death (A small part of me thinks it's mom from beyond the grave giving me the strength to carry on).
But I'm not complaining. I'm glad I was reminded of it. At this point I'm thinking it's the only thing keeping me sane.
I go to my room, stripped of everything personal now, all shoved into a box under my bed.. I'm not sure why I did it. I just couldn't stand...
I place the notebooks on the empty desk and lie down on the bed, ready to force myself to sleep. Hoping that I dream and never wake up.
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Time is against us my king.
The king looks upon his reflection in the blue lake. His crown, long pale and elegant, and just like his cloaks and wings, basked in an ethereal glow.
The pale king. Founder of Hallownest. Giver of mind. Watcher of the future.
The three dreamers stand behind him, dwarfing him in size but not in presence.
Monomon the Teacher. Lurien the Watcher. Herrah the Beast.
The preparations are complete. the king says, Our champion will be ready. Our path is clear.
The Torrent isn't our only enemy. Monomon says. The Seer and the Eruption threatens us also.
They will come for us. Herrah continues, You have forseen this my king.
We need not be without allies. Herrah finishes, The great threats must take priority. The others will answer the call.
Others? I let out an involuntary squeak of confusion.
The four beings immediately turn to me. One resigned, two amused, one annoyed.
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Oops.
I immediately run, confident in my ability to escape.
I may be young but I'm already among the fastest in the kingdom. My talent with my needle is- oh that's so not fair.
Oh dear child. the king floats down in front of me, his wings folding back into his cloak. How much have you overheard?
I pout. Flying is so not fair. I want wings too.
Father chuckles. Maybe later child. He does that sometimes. Read my minds even when I don't say anything. Mother says it's because I show my emotions on my sleeve but that's silly. I'm a warrior. My mind is the strongest fortress around.
He takes me in his arms and we're flying through the air, through the foliage of Greenpath, past the bricks of the Crossroads and we're at Hallownest city.
We hover over the city. And I can see everything. Some parts are still being built and even the ones that have need inside decorating- interior designing? Lurien had called it I think- that would take several more cycles.
This is our home. he says, Our kingdom. One that we must protect.
But I want to see more! I protest, You've told me of the Surface kingdom above. I want to see it. And the great threats! I want to fight! I'm strong!
Patience. father chides, Strength has nothing to do with it but do not worry. Everything has it's time to shine.
He flies further now, away from Hallownest towards the caverns of Deepnest where... Midwife is waiting.
Oh troublesome child. she chitters. I hope she wasn't too much trouble pale one?
Midwife is different to the others. Others will bow and grovel. Even Herrah, her mother, will show respect to the founder of Hollownest but Midwife, in the face of the most powerful bug in Hallownest, stands straight and talks back. I like that. I like Midwife. Doesn't stop me from running away every time but I like her.
Father thinks for a moment. I think it's time for her to learn the ways of a proper warrior.
I'm already a proper warrio- wait what? I perk up. Until know I had to practice my moves in hidden rooms and dark shadows but... could it be?
Midwife cackles. Oh so soon! So soon! Things must be getting quite worrying for you Pale one!
My child is getting bored with Hallownest. Father says dryly, It is getting quite worrying indeed.
I am not that bad!
Quite worrying indeed! Midwife cackles again. Very well then. she turns to me and takes me into her arms, Come child. If you are to become a warrior then I'll be sure that you follow the way of the needle. Nothing like those nail wielding idiots or Weaver forbid a hammer wielding brute. No! You'll be a proper warrior!
She chitters on, maybe a little excited as we go further into Deepnest and I look back at father.
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I think he looks proud.
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