- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Slice-of-Life, Gothic, Horror, Fantasy
Hello lovers, it's me, ya ghoul!
I am thrilled to be hosting Iwaku's first annual love story writing contest and even more thrilled to show you all our excellent submissions this year. To remind you, this year's themes were:
- Secrets
- Soulmates
- Meet Cute
We would love to have you join us in the Iwaku Discord Server on February 24th at 3 PM CST to hear some of these pieces read aloud and discuss them. Please keep any critiques for the authors constructive, and remember that all opinions are subjective, so refrain from giving any sort of letter grade or rating. When discussing the pieces, here are some questions you can consider:
- What do you enjoy most about the piece?
- Does it fit well with the selected themes?
- Is love (of any kind) a main factor of the story?
Using the poll above, you can vote for which piece you believe to be the best. The voting here will not determine the winners alone, but member votes will play a role in our judges' decision. As a reminder, our judges this year are the wonderful @Princess Rose, @kroyote, and @Sorrelfur. We have a $50 CAD Steam card gifted by @Manna Beast and two $25 e-gift cards gifted by @Diana and @Baba Ocha. We will be announcing the winners sometime on February 28th.
Now, without further ado, please enjoy this year's submissions!
The Fundamental Things.
By: @RiverNotch
Word Count: 438
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets, Soulmates
Chosen Format: Verse
I. First Encounter.
How could I
have felt that the world
was ending when
it was my first time
experiencing sunrise
just after midnight,
my first time where
the air was both
cool and heavy,
where the summer
threatened neither
to burn nor to drown?
The summer I learned
that years began
in fall, not winter,
and spring, like you,
seems always just
around the corner—
II. Nights Alone.
Ever since I met you, I've had to make
my bed a garden plot, or else
all my tears would go to waste.
My pillows now are sampaguita shrubs;
my sheets are purple peas.
Those that are most often grown along
subdivision streets, geraniums
and hibiscus, are my headrest.
The yellow elders to my left
serve as my lamp each evening
while the bush clock vine to my right
rings in alarm each morning.
Around my legs are bougainvilleas;
before my feet bloom roses.
The orchids that my grandpa kept
before he died some years ago,
I let creep up the creaking frame
along with some wisterias.
Ever since I met you, I've had to make
my bed a garden plot, or else
all my tears would go to waste.
III. Brief Reunion.
It rained that day, I tell you.
That is why the stones
and bricks and glass and posts
shone so fiercely
that night.
Not some trick of the light.
Not the power coursing
through the grid with more intensity
than usual,
nor the moon and stars
finally exposing themselves
to the city below.
Not whatever crystals
were embedded in the rocks
with which our world was built
nor the flowering vines
that laboured to return them
to the earth.
Not the squabbling of dogs
nor the staring of cats
nor the way people walked
all almost running
careless if they slipped
rushing home.
Not the evening breeze clearing
the smoke from the club,
nor the drinks I've had passing
out whichever orifice
they chose to pass out of,
nor even the piercing
sadness in your eyes,
the disappointed search
for a shared memory.
It rained that day, I tell you:
that is why we both
nearly drowned.
IV. Farewell.
Snap an angel's wings
before she tries to fly. Drive your car
into a pole. When the train you're in
enters a tunnel, someone
has to be trying to kill you.
That crop duster flying
in the distance? It must bear guns.
The ship you're on,
sailing to New York? Ensure it sinks.
Ensure the towers fall,
the climbers suffocate,
the shuttle to the stars
disintegrates mid-flight. For love to last,
it must be tinged with loss.
By: @RiverNotch
Word Count: 438
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets, Soulmates
Chosen Format: Verse
I. First Encounter.
How could I
have felt that the world
was ending when
it was my first time
experiencing sunrise
just after midnight,
my first time where
the air was both
cool and heavy,
where the summer
threatened neither
to burn nor to drown?
The summer I learned
that years began
in fall, not winter,
and spring, like you,
seems always just
around the corner—
II. Nights Alone.
Ever since I met you, I've had to make
my bed a garden plot, or else
all my tears would go to waste.
My pillows now are sampaguita shrubs;
my sheets are purple peas.
Those that are most often grown along
subdivision streets, geraniums
and hibiscus, are my headrest.
The yellow elders to my left
serve as my lamp each evening
while the bush clock vine to my right
rings in alarm each morning.
Around my legs are bougainvilleas;
before my feet bloom roses.
The orchids that my grandpa kept
before he died some years ago,
I let creep up the creaking frame
along with some wisterias.
Ever since I met you, I've had to make
my bed a garden plot, or else
all my tears would go to waste.
III. Brief Reunion.
It rained that day, I tell you.
That is why the stones
and bricks and glass and posts
shone so fiercely
that night.
Not some trick of the light.
Not the power coursing
through the grid with more intensity
than usual,
nor the moon and stars
finally exposing themselves
to the city below.
Not whatever crystals
were embedded in the rocks
with which our world was built
nor the flowering vines
that laboured to return them
to the earth.
Not the squabbling of dogs
nor the staring of cats
nor the way people walked
all almost running
careless if they slipped
rushing home.
Not the evening breeze clearing
the smoke from the club,
nor the drinks I've had passing
out whichever orifice
they chose to pass out of,
nor even the piercing
sadness in your eyes,
the disappointed search
for a shared memory.
It rained that day, I tell you:
that is why we both
nearly drowned.
IV. Farewell.
Snap an angel's wings
before she tries to fly. Drive your car
into a pole. When the train you're in
enters a tunnel, someone
has to be trying to kill you.
That crop duster flying
in the distance? It must bear guns.
The ship you're on,
sailing to New York? Ensure it sinks.
Ensure the towers fall,
the climbers suffocate,
the shuttle to the stars
disintegrates mid-flight. For love to last,
it must be tinged with loss.
Cherished and Bloodstained
By: @Fluffy
Word Count: 1890
Chosen Theme(s): Soulmates
Chosen Format: Short Story
Whenever I'm out here smoking a cigarette, I get so… Pensive. The melancholy air of a winter night has a way of jogging my memories. It brings me back to a place I remember quite vividly. Snowflakes quietly fall to the ground. The air has a fierce bite to it. And the sky is ominously dark. You can't see a single star, or the moonlight, because of the clouds. On a night like that, you must rely on the streetlights for guidance back home. To me, it makes no difference. Stars or no stars, lights or no lights, I'm always where I belong. Home, for me, exists in the shadows I wander. So long as that is true, I am never really lost. There are shadows everywhere. I observe from them, lurk in them, hunt in them… People have no idea that they're regularly passing through my territory. At any time, I could strike. I don't, of course. Not unless I see a target. That's a pretty scary thought, though, isn't it? The fact that I could kill someone just for touching my shadowy domain? I'm all too aware of the power I wield. No one should be allowed to have this much power, especially not someone like me.
And there are reasons for that. The main one being that I'm a ruthless killer. The path I walk is frigid, lonely, and bloodstained. Where I'm going, there is no hope or forgiveness. There's only darkness and gloom. As an assassin, I have to accept that there's no love in this world for me. I throw away any idea of that by choosing death over life. It doesn't help that I'm also an asshole. I know very well how I treat people. I don't necessarily want to be this way. I do it mainly to keep others at a distance. No one should befriend the likes of me. It's better for everyone to think that I'm rude and cruel. Besides that, I don't deserve companionship. I'm an unlovable son of a bitch with too much blood on his hands. Love would be wasted on me.
So, imagine my surprise when someone comes along and alters that perspective. Someone who did indeed learn to love me. Someone who changed the meaning of 'home.'
How we met was, honestly, by random chance. As is the case with many paramours, I think. I'd call us a 'meetcute,' but there isn't anything cute about the way we met. Anyway, I just happened to pass by her tragic situation at the right time and place. I could hear her crying for help from her own private prison. A place with shaded windows and locked doors. A place I could have ignored just as easily as any other. Do you think this was the first time I've heard screams come from someone's house? I hear it all the time. There are many fucked up households in the world. If I were to count how many I come across in one day, the number would shock you.
Generally, I prefer to stay out of people's business. I haven't got it in me to be a hero. I'm too selfish. Too hateful. But… With this, for some reason, I just couldn't leave it alone. Something about her voice ignited my rage like nothing else. It felt like there was a fire burning inside of me. I hadn't felt something like that in a long time. Emptiness and anger are the two main feelings I experience. You'd think my anger would burn like a fire, but it doesn't. It's more like a snowstorm that knocks you down and then freezes you to death. That's how I knew I wasn't just plain angry. I was something else. I was passionately infuriated.
Quickly, I followed those tortured echoes all the way to the source. And I made no hesitation whatsoever as I barged through the door and delivered death to her attacker. I got a mere glimpse of his wretched face before my weapon made it unrecognizable. I didn't waste any time. The moment I caught sight of him, I pointed my weapon at him and pulled the trigger. And just like that, he was gone.
I felt really, really good that night. The best part of it was that, for the first time in years, I didn't do it for money. I did it because I goddamn wanted to.
I made that same approach with the frightened woman in the corner. Nothing motivated me except for my simple desire to help her. She owed me nothing, but I felt like I owed her for the mess I made out of her life. The monster was dead, but then she was left alone. I figured I ought to see that rescue through to the end. I couldn't just leave her there with the corpse of her abuser, and every single reminder of her trauma. The cops would have made her life extra miserable, too. Nah, she was better off hiding out with me.
And then… Somehow… Hiding out with me turned into being with me.
For some reason, I couldn't keep the pretty girl off me. I didn't blame her. She was scared and she needed somebody to cling to. But, she was also... adorably curious. And… So unafraid of the shadows in which I dwelled. I'd go so far as to guess she's from the same place as I am. It's like we're soulmates. We walk in the same world of shadows and we both carry tremendous despair in our hearts. We understand each other in ways that others can't. I've never felt so seen before. I don't think she has, either. A lovely connection sparks between us when we look into each other's eyes. I wonder what she sees in my gaze. Do I show emotions that never come up for anyone else? Does she see my pain? What about the spine-chilling harshness I've been told about? I get so lost in her eyes that I always forget to ask these questions.
One of the things she likes to call me is her angel of death. The way she talks about me really is one of the sweetest things. I'm no savior, though. I'd say I'm more like a bloodthirsty executioner. Yet, she doesn't mind that about me. In fact, I dare to guess she loves it about me. There's a twistedness inside of her that I can see quite clearly. I don't think she's sadistic or malicious. I think she just likes to see me covered in blood when I get home. Something about the image appeals to her. My best guess is that she thinks my life is exciting. She's welcome to think that. I want to tell her how wrong she is, but I don't want to make that smile fade away.
At some point, I stopped wondering if I deserved this love. I decided it didn't matter if I was deserving or not. I've been given something precious and I intend to keep that preciousness. I know I'm being greedy. I mentioned earlier, though, that I am a selfish person. That selfishness didn't kick in at first. I tried to keep her away from me when I noticed she was getting too close. I tried to scare her away, even, and all that did was draw her closer to me. I don't know why. She just… Sees something in me, I guess. Could that something be the real me? The part of me that I hide from others? I tried to make myself out to be a monster because I am one, aren't I? For some reason, she saw me differently. All my emotional defenses and my threatening aura weren't enough to keep her out. She could see through the walls I put around my soul. And then she reached out to touch it. She might as well have phased through those walls like a ghost. That's certainly what it felt like to me. She looked at me with such gentleness and compassion while she offered her hand to me. Maybe I should have smacked her hand away and walked off, but I didn't. I fell for her charms like the sucker I am.
I have to say, this is a bittersweet romance for me. Though, I don't know if bittersweet is the right word for it. I would say it's more like…a scorching chill of a romance. Wherever there's dispassion, her warmth is there to set it ablaze. It messes me up in all the right ways. She loves me so purely and intensely that she makes it hurt to be alive. I've become so cold and mechanical in order to do the work I do. Whenever she kisses me, holds my hand, or caresses my chest, I feel as though my blood is turning into liquid fire. Oh, it burns, but it burns me so good. I think that's why her love is a painful pleasure for me. It seeks out and exploits all the vulnerabilities I never knew I had. It brings me to my knees like nothing else. And I find myself loving every damn second of it. I love how much it hurts to be alive. I love how easily I can get lost in her. She's my perfect escape from this wicked world.
I always knew this type of love existed, I just never knew it existed for people like me. I assumed that I destroyed any chance I had at finding love. It still makes no sense in my mind. How did a guy like me get to be so lucky? What have I done to deserve this? It's not like I've done anything honorable or good. I kill for money. I'm one of the worst kinds of people out there. Dammit, though, I just can't let her go. I'm too attached. Our spirits are tightly intertwined. There's a beautiful chemistry between us that sets off fireworks whenever we touch. It's a hot explosion of emotion that nearly blows us away each time. A sensation so warm yet it makes me shiver. I live for it. I crave it, even. Nothing and no one has ever made me feel this way before.
I don't know how long this love will last. I don't know what the future holds for us or if she might lose interest in me later. What I do know is that I want to cherish the days I have with her. They've been the best days of my life. We're two damaged souls just floating through the shadows together. I never thought that I would find a lover here of all places. Love seems to exist everywhere. It may even be more abundant than the shadows. Now that's a rather comforting thought.
By: @Fluffy
Word Count: 1890
Chosen Theme(s): Soulmates
Chosen Format: Short Story
Violence, Implied abuse, Death
Whenever I'm out here smoking a cigarette, I get so… Pensive. The melancholy air of a winter night has a way of jogging my memories. It brings me back to a place I remember quite vividly. Snowflakes quietly fall to the ground. The air has a fierce bite to it. And the sky is ominously dark. You can't see a single star, or the moonlight, because of the clouds. On a night like that, you must rely on the streetlights for guidance back home. To me, it makes no difference. Stars or no stars, lights or no lights, I'm always where I belong. Home, for me, exists in the shadows I wander. So long as that is true, I am never really lost. There are shadows everywhere. I observe from them, lurk in them, hunt in them… People have no idea that they're regularly passing through my territory. At any time, I could strike. I don't, of course. Not unless I see a target. That's a pretty scary thought, though, isn't it? The fact that I could kill someone just for touching my shadowy domain? I'm all too aware of the power I wield. No one should be allowed to have this much power, especially not someone like me.
And there are reasons for that. The main one being that I'm a ruthless killer. The path I walk is frigid, lonely, and bloodstained. Where I'm going, there is no hope or forgiveness. There's only darkness and gloom. As an assassin, I have to accept that there's no love in this world for me. I throw away any idea of that by choosing death over life. It doesn't help that I'm also an asshole. I know very well how I treat people. I don't necessarily want to be this way. I do it mainly to keep others at a distance. No one should befriend the likes of me. It's better for everyone to think that I'm rude and cruel. Besides that, I don't deserve companionship. I'm an unlovable son of a bitch with too much blood on his hands. Love would be wasted on me.
So, imagine my surprise when someone comes along and alters that perspective. Someone who did indeed learn to love me. Someone who changed the meaning of 'home.'
How we met was, honestly, by random chance. As is the case with many paramours, I think. I'd call us a 'meetcute,' but there isn't anything cute about the way we met. Anyway, I just happened to pass by her tragic situation at the right time and place. I could hear her crying for help from her own private prison. A place with shaded windows and locked doors. A place I could have ignored just as easily as any other. Do you think this was the first time I've heard screams come from someone's house? I hear it all the time. There are many fucked up households in the world. If I were to count how many I come across in one day, the number would shock you.
Generally, I prefer to stay out of people's business. I haven't got it in me to be a hero. I'm too selfish. Too hateful. But… With this, for some reason, I just couldn't leave it alone. Something about her voice ignited my rage like nothing else. It felt like there was a fire burning inside of me. I hadn't felt something like that in a long time. Emptiness and anger are the two main feelings I experience. You'd think my anger would burn like a fire, but it doesn't. It's more like a snowstorm that knocks you down and then freezes you to death. That's how I knew I wasn't just plain angry. I was something else. I was passionately infuriated.
Quickly, I followed those tortured echoes all the way to the source. And I made no hesitation whatsoever as I barged through the door and delivered death to her attacker. I got a mere glimpse of his wretched face before my weapon made it unrecognizable. I didn't waste any time. The moment I caught sight of him, I pointed my weapon at him and pulled the trigger. And just like that, he was gone.
I felt really, really good that night. The best part of it was that, for the first time in years, I didn't do it for money. I did it because I goddamn wanted to.
I made that same approach with the frightened woman in the corner. Nothing motivated me except for my simple desire to help her. She owed me nothing, but I felt like I owed her for the mess I made out of her life. The monster was dead, but then she was left alone. I figured I ought to see that rescue through to the end. I couldn't just leave her there with the corpse of her abuser, and every single reminder of her trauma. The cops would have made her life extra miserable, too. Nah, she was better off hiding out with me.
And then… Somehow… Hiding out with me turned into being with me.
For some reason, I couldn't keep the pretty girl off me. I didn't blame her. She was scared and she needed somebody to cling to. But, she was also... adorably curious. And… So unafraid of the shadows in which I dwelled. I'd go so far as to guess she's from the same place as I am. It's like we're soulmates. We walk in the same world of shadows and we both carry tremendous despair in our hearts. We understand each other in ways that others can't. I've never felt so seen before. I don't think she has, either. A lovely connection sparks between us when we look into each other's eyes. I wonder what she sees in my gaze. Do I show emotions that never come up for anyone else? Does she see my pain? What about the spine-chilling harshness I've been told about? I get so lost in her eyes that I always forget to ask these questions.
One of the things she likes to call me is her angel of death. The way she talks about me really is one of the sweetest things. I'm no savior, though. I'd say I'm more like a bloodthirsty executioner. Yet, she doesn't mind that about me. In fact, I dare to guess she loves it about me. There's a twistedness inside of her that I can see quite clearly. I don't think she's sadistic or malicious. I think she just likes to see me covered in blood when I get home. Something about the image appeals to her. My best guess is that she thinks my life is exciting. She's welcome to think that. I want to tell her how wrong she is, but I don't want to make that smile fade away.
At some point, I stopped wondering if I deserved this love. I decided it didn't matter if I was deserving or not. I've been given something precious and I intend to keep that preciousness. I know I'm being greedy. I mentioned earlier, though, that I am a selfish person. That selfishness didn't kick in at first. I tried to keep her away from me when I noticed she was getting too close. I tried to scare her away, even, and all that did was draw her closer to me. I don't know why. She just… Sees something in me, I guess. Could that something be the real me? The part of me that I hide from others? I tried to make myself out to be a monster because I am one, aren't I? For some reason, she saw me differently. All my emotional defenses and my threatening aura weren't enough to keep her out. She could see through the walls I put around my soul. And then she reached out to touch it. She might as well have phased through those walls like a ghost. That's certainly what it felt like to me. She looked at me with such gentleness and compassion while she offered her hand to me. Maybe I should have smacked her hand away and walked off, but I didn't. I fell for her charms like the sucker I am.
I have to say, this is a bittersweet romance for me. Though, I don't know if bittersweet is the right word for it. I would say it's more like…a scorching chill of a romance. Wherever there's dispassion, her warmth is there to set it ablaze. It messes me up in all the right ways. She loves me so purely and intensely that she makes it hurt to be alive. I've become so cold and mechanical in order to do the work I do. Whenever she kisses me, holds my hand, or caresses my chest, I feel as though my blood is turning into liquid fire. Oh, it burns, but it burns me so good. I think that's why her love is a painful pleasure for me. It seeks out and exploits all the vulnerabilities I never knew I had. It brings me to my knees like nothing else. And I find myself loving every damn second of it. I love how much it hurts to be alive. I love how easily I can get lost in her. She's my perfect escape from this wicked world.
I always knew this type of love existed, I just never knew it existed for people like me. I assumed that I destroyed any chance I had at finding love. It still makes no sense in my mind. How did a guy like me get to be so lucky? What have I done to deserve this? It's not like I've done anything honorable or good. I kill for money. I'm one of the worst kinds of people out there. Dammit, though, I just can't let her go. I'm too attached. Our spirits are tightly intertwined. There's a beautiful chemistry between us that sets off fireworks whenever we touch. It's a hot explosion of emotion that nearly blows us away each time. A sensation so warm yet it makes me shiver. I live for it. I crave it, even. Nothing and no one has ever made me feel this way before.
I don't know how long this love will last. I don't know what the future holds for us or if she might lose interest in me later. What I do know is that I want to cherish the days I have with her. They've been the best days of my life. We're two damaged souls just floating through the shadows together. I never thought that I would find a lover here of all places. Love seems to exist everywhere. It may even be more abundant than the shadows. Now that's a rather comforting thought.
Letting Free the Beast
By: @MikaelsonDarling
Word Count: 962
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
Link to Document: Iwaku Love Contest 2025 Entry
The sun cast a glow on the darkening sky, peeking through a window in a distracting manner. Gwen stared at the computer screen, her gaze hazy and the letter sprawled out on a document before her. A letter as a response to her own.
She'd harbored her feelings for so long, unable to explain in any good manner. She'd close up, find herself unable to form words in person. Yet therapy was pushing her to go against the wall, the safe barrier meant to help her survive her chaotic childhood. The digital parchment was meant to originally write out those emotions she rarely let herself express, and only her therapist was intended to see such a private five page entry. Not that Gwen ever wrote a diary, yet this in a way was: of her entire life until now. All those secret thoughts hidden behind some dormant barrier, interrupted by the numb that came before her own connection to her own feelings. Now the unspoken thoughts, that she choked on for years, were out in the open. On a page with words, and the document she stared at was a reply. Not a simple private message between friends, but a hopeful means to mend the broken pieces of her heart.
Her eyes watered as she read on, over and over, unsure how to move past the void that sucked up most of what went through her mind. For the first time in twenty-five years, the little girl deep within felt heard. Not insane. Not crazy, but real and validated. Was it a relief? Partially, but there was more. It didn't matter that her dad's words were repeated some for his own sake, because each word expressed he was accepting her. Finally she wasn't a freak of nature for being different, having varied reactions and overly creative ideas. He was seeing Gwen as herself and not some imaginary figment of the perfect little girl he wanted. The very first move in the chess game of healing was made, then the second. Now it was her turn to move a pawn or maybe even the queen.
Each second ticking by became more intense, with each written word glaring at her with pure honesty. After the creeping thoughts of if her emotions were even alright to feel or send in a letter in such a manner, the last result expected was understanding. Years of impatience from her parents left a shadow in her mind, over simple mistakes such as missing where a dish went or not doing well enough at an activity. All the weight of expectation, once from her childhood and teenage years, now festering as an editor inside her. A monster waiting, lurking in the dark with the patience of a saint to strike the moment her walls fell. Somehow that became scarier than the worst heights. Her breath was bated when she sent it, and her hitched response occurred the moment she opened the document to the present.
Her game was not over yet; the end of harboring her turmoil a new beginning. Could she foster a better future with her parents? There was hope, as loud as a hooting owl or chattering cicada. Hope. The singular word with many implications hidden within. One fact remained clear as the cloudy night sky, the journey officially began. Not just the one with the two people who were supposed to cherish her from the beginning, but with her own beast. That very creature that would remind her that she's supposed to make everyone feel happy, and not let them down.
Stepping onto her patio, away from the blue light, she released it into the wild and allowed it to roam. Instead of continuing to cage up and letting the wound fester, the monster now walked side by side with the angel on her shoulder. Both sides of the puzzle, not in complete harmony, but starting to understand one another. Complete harmony seemed far, maybe even impossible, but coexisting the shadow and the light: that was possible. The orange leaves of a nearby tree danced to the ground, as if letting free its own demons.
Her cheeks felt damp, just as a yellow flashed across the brightened moon. A shooting star trailed across, not giving any hoot to the fact there was no one to tell her thoughts to, "I wish I would've spoken out sooner, but I can't change the past. I can't go back to who I was, and I don't want to. I need to learn to live with who I actually am, so I can finally grow from my trauma. My real wish is for my parents and I to create a space where I feel safe to talk to them. I want to understand how I feel without being numb first. And I want to continue to be heard." Each syllable meant to remind her of why she pressed the send button, opened the document sent as a reply back, and put her heart on the line.
The silence and gentle gestures of the wind made the passing cars louder before the sound died down again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Was pressing the green button possible? Was her dad still up or laying down her two-year-old sister for the night? She couldn't let that stop her or influence her, not again. It was time, with no good reason to hold back. This needed to happen; it wasn't some silly want. One millisecond at a time, her finger got closer to the touch screen. Then the sound of ringback replayed for thirty seconds, narrowly avoiding a voicemail apology and beeps, then the familiar voice interrupted all speeding thoughts, "Hey, Lucky Ducky."
Another halter in her breaths, then an almost muttered inflection, "Hey, Dad. I got your letter."
By: @MikaelsonDarling
Word Count: 962
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
Link to Document: Iwaku Love Contest 2025 Entry
The sun cast a glow on the darkening sky, peeking through a window in a distracting manner. Gwen stared at the computer screen, her gaze hazy and the letter sprawled out on a document before her. A letter as a response to her own.
She'd harbored her feelings for so long, unable to explain in any good manner. She'd close up, find herself unable to form words in person. Yet therapy was pushing her to go against the wall, the safe barrier meant to help her survive her chaotic childhood. The digital parchment was meant to originally write out those emotions she rarely let herself express, and only her therapist was intended to see such a private five page entry. Not that Gwen ever wrote a diary, yet this in a way was: of her entire life until now. All those secret thoughts hidden behind some dormant barrier, interrupted by the numb that came before her own connection to her own feelings. Now the unspoken thoughts, that she choked on for years, were out in the open. On a page with words, and the document she stared at was a reply. Not a simple private message between friends, but a hopeful means to mend the broken pieces of her heart.
Her eyes watered as she read on, over and over, unsure how to move past the void that sucked up most of what went through her mind. For the first time in twenty-five years, the little girl deep within felt heard. Not insane. Not crazy, but real and validated. Was it a relief? Partially, but there was more. It didn't matter that her dad's words were repeated some for his own sake, because each word expressed he was accepting her. Finally she wasn't a freak of nature for being different, having varied reactions and overly creative ideas. He was seeing Gwen as herself and not some imaginary figment of the perfect little girl he wanted. The very first move in the chess game of healing was made, then the second. Now it was her turn to move a pawn or maybe even the queen.
Each second ticking by became more intense, with each written word glaring at her with pure honesty. After the creeping thoughts of if her emotions were even alright to feel or send in a letter in such a manner, the last result expected was understanding. Years of impatience from her parents left a shadow in her mind, over simple mistakes such as missing where a dish went or not doing well enough at an activity. All the weight of expectation, once from her childhood and teenage years, now festering as an editor inside her. A monster waiting, lurking in the dark with the patience of a saint to strike the moment her walls fell. Somehow that became scarier than the worst heights. Her breath was bated when she sent it, and her hitched response occurred the moment she opened the document to the present.
Her game was not over yet; the end of harboring her turmoil a new beginning. Could she foster a better future with her parents? There was hope, as loud as a hooting owl or chattering cicada. Hope. The singular word with many implications hidden within. One fact remained clear as the cloudy night sky, the journey officially began. Not just the one with the two people who were supposed to cherish her from the beginning, but with her own beast. That very creature that would remind her that she's supposed to make everyone feel happy, and not let them down.
Stepping onto her patio, away from the blue light, she released it into the wild and allowed it to roam. Instead of continuing to cage up and letting the wound fester, the monster now walked side by side with the angel on her shoulder. Both sides of the puzzle, not in complete harmony, but starting to understand one another. Complete harmony seemed far, maybe even impossible, but coexisting the shadow and the light: that was possible. The orange leaves of a nearby tree danced to the ground, as if letting free its own demons.
Her cheeks felt damp, just as a yellow flashed across the brightened moon. A shooting star trailed across, not giving any hoot to the fact there was no one to tell her thoughts to, "I wish I would've spoken out sooner, but I can't change the past. I can't go back to who I was, and I don't want to. I need to learn to live with who I actually am, so I can finally grow from my trauma. My real wish is for my parents and I to create a space where I feel safe to talk to them. I want to understand how I feel without being numb first. And I want to continue to be heard." Each syllable meant to remind her of why she pressed the send button, opened the document sent as a reply back, and put her heart on the line.
The silence and gentle gestures of the wind made the passing cars louder before the sound died down again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Was pressing the green button possible? Was her dad still up or laying down her two-year-old sister for the night? She couldn't let that stop her or influence her, not again. It was time, with no good reason to hold back. This needed to happen; it wasn't some silly want. One millisecond at a time, her finger got closer to the touch screen. Then the sound of ringback replayed for thirty seconds, narrowly avoiding a voicemail apology and beeps, then the familiar voice interrupted all speeding thoughts, "Hey, Lucky Ducky."
Another halter in her breaths, then an almost muttered inflection, "Hey, Dad. I got your letter."
Twisted and Forbidden Love
By: @Plaything
Word Count: 938
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
Nighttime. How different it was for everybody. For the most, it was the time to leave behind their worries and enjoy their restful sleep. For the less fortunate, it meant an encounter with the dreadful monsters, lurking after dusk.
For Akako, it meant the time to attend her duties. She should have wished for the sun to rise sooner, to let her finally embrace the comfort of her soft and warm bed... yet, she could not. Not while it could bring harm to the one she loved most.
"If I could, I would challenge the sun itself, so it would never get to frighten you again, darling." Her frail fingers tenderly brushed silky, tricolor hair of the very creature she was meant to fight, till either of them dropped dead.
Sudden sound of flapping wings gave hunter a jolt, her body relaxing once her gaze landed on the owl, taking flight for its nightly hunt. Another night of surviving her duties, as well as discovery of her secret, that would undoubtedly lead to her execution. After all, dating one of the most powerful enemies, was not exactly her purpose, more so when he only tolerated her presence, as long as he could manipulate her into serving as his spy.
"We could still quit... go somewhere far away from the both sides. Away from my colleagues, your kind and your leader. Someplace we could spend time without risking lives everyday." She broke the silence, braiding flowers in his hair, while the demon felt lenient enough to entertain her cheesy antics. "A place we could be together, without hiding."
"You suggest we run away like some reckless juvenile lovers, eh? How selfish of you, trying to persuade me into fleeing with you and turning you into what you always longed to be — immortal being such as myself. I could never go that far even if I tried to. Besides... why should I abandon my duties and run, when I already have everything I could ever wish for? My life is like a dream: I have power which never ceases growing and lifestyle which brings me joy, as well as you. If we escape, I shall only have you — that is, until we are found and killed for trying to defy the king of demons, how ungrateful would that be, hm? After he gave me everything I could wish for."
"That is why you think I am risking my life? Just to be turned? I did not even believe it, when you said that once I will locate the headquarters, your boss shall turn me as a reward. I am only doing this all to stay by your side."
"It sounds to me that I am not the only one with the trust issues here."
"You do not have the right to have trust issues, not when you have full access to my mind. Not that I can hide anything from you — my darkest fears and deepest desires, you know that my heart will beat for you until my final breath."
"Yet you cannot do as little as ceasing to propose me weekly and waiting until headquarters are destroyed, so we shall be able to be together, without me, having to give up on my power and status, fleeing to die as a fugitive. All you need to do is hunting my brethren and rising in ranks, so you have an access to more classified information."
"I would rather quit hunting and become your bodyguard."
"Like I need that. Besides as far as the headquarters remain intact, they shall continue to hunt me down."
"Does that mean you do not want to see the ring I bought for you?"
"..."
"I am just messing around with you. That expression was priceless. Also... your hair is done." The hunter pulled back, gazing at him. "I wish you could see your reflection, but I use a sword instead of a mirror outdoors and you never meet me until I am disarmed."
"You still have your arrows to paralyze me and flee if you need, it is only fair that we both feel safe, no? I do not need a mirror to guess that I look ridiculous with flowers, braided in my hair."
"Flowers do not look as beautiful on you, as they would on any other."
"It cannot be that bad... can it?"
"It is. Their beauty was entirely outshined by your own."
"Ah. Smooth with your words as always. You never change."
"Do you want me to change?"
The demon paused to give it a thought. "I think you are fine the way you are. Perhaps if you were tad bit more efficient..."
"Do you think you could ever love me back?"
"Love. Such a ludicrous thing, like a fever dream." He repeated with a melodic giggle. "I doubt I would ever care for such a thing, but if I did... I do not see who I could possibly love, other than my favorite spy here. How many people do you think are allowed to get as close to me as you do?"
"Better be none other than me." Her obedient and affectionate tone quickly changed into something more possessive and sinister.
"Exactly. You are the only one I am meeting and the closest thing I have to a lover."
"I guess that is still something. Keep it that way for everybody's good." She smiled, pulling him into a hug and looking around. "You should probably leave before the sunrise."
"You are not wrong. We shall meet again. As for when and how often, that entirely depends on the quality of your work."
By: @Plaything
Word Count: 938
Chosen Theme(s): Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
Nighttime. How different it was for everybody. For the most, it was the time to leave behind their worries and enjoy their restful sleep. For the less fortunate, it meant an encounter with the dreadful monsters, lurking after dusk.
For Akako, it meant the time to attend her duties. She should have wished for the sun to rise sooner, to let her finally embrace the comfort of her soft and warm bed... yet, she could not. Not while it could bring harm to the one she loved most.
"If I could, I would challenge the sun itself, so it would never get to frighten you again, darling." Her frail fingers tenderly brushed silky, tricolor hair of the very creature she was meant to fight, till either of them dropped dead.
Sudden sound of flapping wings gave hunter a jolt, her body relaxing once her gaze landed on the owl, taking flight for its nightly hunt. Another night of surviving her duties, as well as discovery of her secret, that would undoubtedly lead to her execution. After all, dating one of the most powerful enemies, was not exactly her purpose, more so when he only tolerated her presence, as long as he could manipulate her into serving as his spy.
"We could still quit... go somewhere far away from the both sides. Away from my colleagues, your kind and your leader. Someplace we could spend time without risking lives everyday." She broke the silence, braiding flowers in his hair, while the demon felt lenient enough to entertain her cheesy antics. "A place we could be together, without hiding."
"You suggest we run away like some reckless juvenile lovers, eh? How selfish of you, trying to persuade me into fleeing with you and turning you into what you always longed to be — immortal being such as myself. I could never go that far even if I tried to. Besides... why should I abandon my duties and run, when I already have everything I could ever wish for? My life is like a dream: I have power which never ceases growing and lifestyle which brings me joy, as well as you. If we escape, I shall only have you — that is, until we are found and killed for trying to defy the king of demons, how ungrateful would that be, hm? After he gave me everything I could wish for."
"That is why you think I am risking my life? Just to be turned? I did not even believe it, when you said that once I will locate the headquarters, your boss shall turn me as a reward. I am only doing this all to stay by your side."
"It sounds to me that I am not the only one with the trust issues here."
"You do not have the right to have trust issues, not when you have full access to my mind. Not that I can hide anything from you — my darkest fears and deepest desires, you know that my heart will beat for you until my final breath."
"Yet you cannot do as little as ceasing to propose me weekly and waiting until headquarters are destroyed, so we shall be able to be together, without me, having to give up on my power and status, fleeing to die as a fugitive. All you need to do is hunting my brethren and rising in ranks, so you have an access to more classified information."
"I would rather quit hunting and become your bodyguard."
"Like I need that. Besides as far as the headquarters remain intact, they shall continue to hunt me down."
"Does that mean you do not want to see the ring I bought for you?"
"..."
"I am just messing around with you. That expression was priceless. Also... your hair is done." The hunter pulled back, gazing at him. "I wish you could see your reflection, but I use a sword instead of a mirror outdoors and you never meet me until I am disarmed."
"You still have your arrows to paralyze me and flee if you need, it is only fair that we both feel safe, no? I do not need a mirror to guess that I look ridiculous with flowers, braided in my hair."
"Flowers do not look as beautiful on you, as they would on any other."
"It cannot be that bad... can it?"
"It is. Their beauty was entirely outshined by your own."
"Ah. Smooth with your words as always. You never change."
"Do you want me to change?"
The demon paused to give it a thought. "I think you are fine the way you are. Perhaps if you were tad bit more efficient..."
"Do you think you could ever love me back?"
"Love. Such a ludicrous thing, like a fever dream." He repeated with a melodic giggle. "I doubt I would ever care for such a thing, but if I did... I do not see who I could possibly love, other than my favorite spy here. How many people do you think are allowed to get as close to me as you do?"
"Better be none other than me." Her obedient and affectionate tone quickly changed into something more possessive and sinister.
"Exactly. You are the only one I am meeting and the closest thing I have to a lover."
"I guess that is still something. Keep it that way for everybody's good." She smiled, pulling him into a hug and looking around. "You should probably leave before the sunrise."
"You are not wrong. We shall meet again. As for when and how often, that entirely depends on the quality of your work."
Connor
By: Anonymous
Word Count: 1469
Chosen Theme(s): Soulmates, Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
In high school, everyone started to get their names. The name of their future soulmate, written in their handwriting on their wrist. Not everyone gets one at that age. About half of everyone graduates knowing the name of their fated lover, while others don't get a name for years, decades after. Some people never got a name. That doesn't mean they were cursed to loneliness, but dating without a name is different. Painful. You have to know your relationship might end any day, that one day, you or your partner might see a name on your wrist that isn't aligned. That doesn't always end the relationship. Sometimes, a couple tries — really tries. Despite knowing one or both of them is destined to be with someone else, they aren't ready to abandon the relationship. But eventually, it's too much. One way or another, it ends. Their destined lover turns up, or the knowledge that there is someone perfect for them out there overwhelms them.
Eventually, it always ends.
I never got my name in high school. I dated only one boy at the time. His name was Marcus, and he had my name written on his wrist. Ellie in a small cursive font which was certainly not my own. I was the only Ellie he knew, and so he was convinced I was his soulmate. Marcus was fine, but I knew he wasn't my soulmate, and I was only with him because he'd asked, and I was lonely. We were together two months, and two months after that, he found his Ellie. I'm happy for them, but that didn't help the lonely ache. I entered adulthood, and for a while the wistful, love struck phase faded. So I focused on school, independence, friendships. But at 24, I was lonely again. Almost all of my friends had found their soulmates, and I had to watch them be happy together.
I decided to join a dating site, for those who never got their name. It seemed like everyone around me had their soulmate, so it surprised me to see just how many people there were without them. Even if I don't find a partner, I thought, at least I won't have to be so alone. The anxiety was still there, though. The what ifs about whether I was cursed to be lonely forever, or if I did find someone, would a new signature tear us apart? I tried not to let that stop me.
And I met her.
Sarah was the brightest, most beautiful person I had ever met. She laughed like a songbird and smiled like the sun. Every joke from her lips made me giggle, even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones. She had poetic thoughts but wasn't pretentious, even if every one of her interests seemed to be. Sarah loved art, and philosophy, and gardening. But she was kind and open and accepting. She had ambitions and dreams, but never made me feel excluded from them. We were going to live in a cottage by the river, with two spaniels and a large greenhouse. I was in love, more than I ever imagined I could be. Runaway fantasies of our future lived in my head. During the first year of our relationship, I was sure she was going to leave me. Either because someone better would come along, or because she'd get her name. I knew if she did get one, it wouldn't be mine. I even told her that, and she reassured me.
Sarah didn't get her name.
I did.
Connor.
I almost screamed when I saw it. Tried to wash it away, tried to scrape the top layer of skin off. It wouldn't leave. I felt sick. I could never love anyone but Sarah. Would she leave me if she knew? Was it better or worse if she didn't? I couldn't blame her if she did, but the thought of being without her hurt more than words could ever describe. And would she feel the eight years of her life with me had been wasted? I was destined to love someone else, someday, after all. Imagining a future with anyone else was nauseating — soulmate or otherwise. Even if Sarah tried to stay, eventually, the weight of it would cause her to crumble. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of.
I hid the name. Tucked it beneath long sleeves and covered it in makeup. I didn't say anything, I became stressed and anxious. Sarah could tell something was wrong. Of course, she could. She was emotionally attuned, and I wasn't subtle She asked me, first calmly, and later emotionally, to tell me what was wrong. We were fighting a lot — how could we not be?
I sat alone on our bed, knees tucked to my chest and my long scratchy sweater was pulled down over my hands, the day the truth came out. Every time I looked down at the red fabric, I wanted to cry, but I had worn myself out on tears. I felt dull and listless. Sarah entered the room cautiously, careful. She moved with hesitation uncommon to her. I have done this to you, I thought. I have paled your shine. I looked up at her, and watched, silent. She approached.
"Ellie," she said my name tentatively, tentative and gentle. That also made me want to cry.
"What?" I asked, voice flat, hopeless.
"You have to tell me what's wrong," Sarah, the woman I loved more than life, requested of me.
I can't, I thought. I looked away from her, and pulled my arms tighter around my knees. Sarah waited, for far longer than I thought she would, at the foot of the bed.
"Alright, if you're not going to talk, at least listen."
"Okay…"
"I have something I want to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but I was nervous."
You? I thought, but was quiet. Instead, I just looked at her, and waited.
"I was going to tell you a month or two ago, but you've been so… Ellie, whatever is going on, you have to tell me?"
I blinked.
"Okay, fine." She sounded disappointed. "Ellie, do you love me?"
"Of course I do!" I said it fiercely, with more passion than I had mustered in days. I was scared then, because what was she going to tell me? What required that kind of question?
"There is… Something I've noticed about myself. It's not recent, but it's only recently I've put it into words." Sarah looked away from me. She seemed so reserved, so unlike herself.
"I don't think I'm a girl," she didn't falter or hesitate, but the uncertainty was there. It wasn't the most surprising thing, Sarah had experimented with her identity in many ways before, but as someone who had always identified as a lesbian, I imagined it was a hard thing for her to say.
"Are you a guy, then?"
"I don't know," she answered, looking back up at me. "But I do know…" She bit her lip, but didn't look away again. "I know I'm not Sarah anymore."
My heart jumped. Had she seen it? Did she know? Changing your name to match a name didn't work. It had to be your signature. But did the writing look anything like hers? I had never paid much attention to the font. "I—" I started, but couldn't bring myself to get out a real word. I was so scared.
"I've thought on it a long time," she said. "And I think I want to change my name to Connor."
"No," I said, disbelieving. "You know, don't you?"
"What?" She blinked at me. "Know what?"
"Write it for me?" I asked, somewhere between a desperate plea and a command. She blinked at me, but did as I asked. I don't know if she knew why at that moment, but maybe she could've guessed. She took a pen and paper from the night stand, and wrote down her new name. My partner handed over the paper, Connor written in dark blue ink. I'd have recognized those curves and loops anywhere, as they had haunted my nightmares for months.
"That name, that name, ohh, I love it! I love you!" I said, and I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her.
"What the?" Was grumbled at me before her words were smothered in my sweater.
"Connor," I whispered so softly. I felt tears in the corners of my eyes. "My beloved."
By: Anonymous
Word Count: 1469
Chosen Theme(s): Soulmates, Secrets
Chosen Format: Short Story
In high school, everyone started to get their names. The name of their future soulmate, written in their handwriting on their wrist. Not everyone gets one at that age. About half of everyone graduates knowing the name of their fated lover, while others don't get a name for years, decades after. Some people never got a name. That doesn't mean they were cursed to loneliness, but dating without a name is different. Painful. You have to know your relationship might end any day, that one day, you or your partner might see a name on your wrist that isn't aligned. That doesn't always end the relationship. Sometimes, a couple tries — really tries. Despite knowing one or both of them is destined to be with someone else, they aren't ready to abandon the relationship. But eventually, it's too much. One way or another, it ends. Their destined lover turns up, or the knowledge that there is someone perfect for them out there overwhelms them.
Eventually, it always ends.
I never got my name in high school. I dated only one boy at the time. His name was Marcus, and he had my name written on his wrist. Ellie in a small cursive font which was certainly not my own. I was the only Ellie he knew, and so he was convinced I was his soulmate. Marcus was fine, but I knew he wasn't my soulmate, and I was only with him because he'd asked, and I was lonely. We were together two months, and two months after that, he found his Ellie. I'm happy for them, but that didn't help the lonely ache. I entered adulthood, and for a while the wistful, love struck phase faded. So I focused on school, independence, friendships. But at 24, I was lonely again. Almost all of my friends had found their soulmates, and I had to watch them be happy together.
I decided to join a dating site, for those who never got their name. It seemed like everyone around me had their soulmate, so it surprised me to see just how many people there were without them. Even if I don't find a partner, I thought, at least I won't have to be so alone. The anxiety was still there, though. The what ifs about whether I was cursed to be lonely forever, or if I did find someone, would a new signature tear us apart? I tried not to let that stop me.
And I met her.
Sarah was the brightest, most beautiful person I had ever met. She laughed like a songbird and smiled like the sun. Every joke from her lips made me giggle, even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones. She had poetic thoughts but wasn't pretentious, even if every one of her interests seemed to be. Sarah loved art, and philosophy, and gardening. But she was kind and open and accepting. She had ambitions and dreams, but never made me feel excluded from them. We were going to live in a cottage by the river, with two spaniels and a large greenhouse. I was in love, more than I ever imagined I could be. Runaway fantasies of our future lived in my head. During the first year of our relationship, I was sure she was going to leave me. Either because someone better would come along, or because she'd get her name. I knew if she did get one, it wouldn't be mine. I even told her that, and she reassured me.
Sarah didn't get her name.
I did.
Connor.
I almost screamed when I saw it. Tried to wash it away, tried to scrape the top layer of skin off. It wouldn't leave. I felt sick. I could never love anyone but Sarah. Would she leave me if she knew? Was it better or worse if she didn't? I couldn't blame her if she did, but the thought of being without her hurt more than words could ever describe. And would she feel the eight years of her life with me had been wasted? I was destined to love someone else, someday, after all. Imagining a future with anyone else was nauseating — soulmate or otherwise. Even if Sarah tried to stay, eventually, the weight of it would cause her to crumble. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of.
I hid the name. Tucked it beneath long sleeves and covered it in makeup. I didn't say anything, I became stressed and anxious. Sarah could tell something was wrong. Of course, she could. She was emotionally attuned, and I wasn't subtle She asked me, first calmly, and later emotionally, to tell me what was wrong. We were fighting a lot — how could we not be?
I sat alone on our bed, knees tucked to my chest and my long scratchy sweater was pulled down over my hands, the day the truth came out. Every time I looked down at the red fabric, I wanted to cry, but I had worn myself out on tears. I felt dull and listless. Sarah entered the room cautiously, careful. She moved with hesitation uncommon to her. I have done this to you, I thought. I have paled your shine. I looked up at her, and watched, silent. She approached.
"Ellie," she said my name tentatively, tentative and gentle. That also made me want to cry.
"What?" I asked, voice flat, hopeless.
"You have to tell me what's wrong," Sarah, the woman I loved more than life, requested of me.
I can't, I thought. I looked away from her, and pulled my arms tighter around my knees. Sarah waited, for far longer than I thought she would, at the foot of the bed.
"Alright, if you're not going to talk, at least listen."
"Okay…"
"I have something I want to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but I was nervous."
You? I thought, but was quiet. Instead, I just looked at her, and waited.
"I was going to tell you a month or two ago, but you've been so… Ellie, whatever is going on, you have to tell me?"
I blinked.
"Okay, fine." She sounded disappointed. "Ellie, do you love me?"
"Of course I do!" I said it fiercely, with more passion than I had mustered in days. I was scared then, because what was she going to tell me? What required that kind of question?
"There is… Something I've noticed about myself. It's not recent, but it's only recently I've put it into words." Sarah looked away from me. She seemed so reserved, so unlike herself.
"I don't think I'm a girl," she didn't falter or hesitate, but the uncertainty was there. It wasn't the most surprising thing, Sarah had experimented with her identity in many ways before, but as someone who had always identified as a lesbian, I imagined it was a hard thing for her to say.
"Are you a guy, then?"
"I don't know," she answered, looking back up at me. "But I do know…" She bit her lip, but didn't look away again. "I know I'm not Sarah anymore."
My heart jumped. Had she seen it? Did she know? Changing your name to match a name didn't work. It had to be your signature. But did the writing look anything like hers? I had never paid much attention to the font. "I—" I started, but couldn't bring myself to get out a real word. I was so scared.
"I've thought on it a long time," she said. "And I think I want to change my name to Connor."
"No," I said, disbelieving. "You know, don't you?"
"What?" She blinked at me. "Know what?"
"Write it for me?" I asked, somewhere between a desperate plea and a command. She blinked at me, but did as I asked. I don't know if she knew why at that moment, but maybe she could've guessed. She took a pen and paper from the night stand, and wrote down her new name. My partner handed over the paper, Connor written in dark blue ink. I'd have recognized those curves and loops anywhere, as they had haunted my nightmares for months.
"That name, that name, ohh, I love it! I love you!" I said, and I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her.
"What the?" Was grumbled at me before her words were smothered in my sweater.
"Connor," I whispered so softly. I felt tears in the corners of my eyes. "My beloved."
