The Weight of October

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“October does not whisper, it insists on being heard.”

October presses in heavy, as if the month itself carries a deeper silence and stillness than others. It was not the silence of rest, but of gathering, like a sky swelling with thunder too far to hear but close enough to sense.

Leaves spiraled down in surrender, yet the air felt charged. What was unseen carried more weight than what was in front of the eyes. It was the knowing that work was being done behind the veil, that pieces were moving, even when the surface remained calm.

The cove reflected it undeniably. Smooth, glass-like water with a current beneath, invisible yet undeniable. It was not the question of if the silence would break, but when. The stillness is never truly still and the silence is never truly silent, but instead an explanation with a heartbeat.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the weight of October will shift into sound , the waiting has shifted to movement and the silence has erupted with strength only October can serve in this way.

Category: suspense story
Tags: suspense, October, lake, fog, silence, reflections, transformation, mystery, solitude

Shadows in the Mist

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Shadows in fog are not illusions, they are invitations to wonder.”

The mist conceals the edges,
yet shadows learn to stay,
not fading but awaiting,
the lift in the break of day.

The cove holds secrets steady,
the dock does not retreat,
what waits is not imagined,
but truth with covered feet.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

By tomorrow, the shadows will lean closer, daring the stillness to break. Is it the stillness within or the stillness that is not our own, awaiting the inevitable rumble, where will you be when the rumble is heard and are you easily moved?

The Dock That Waits

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Sometimes it is not the shadow we fear, but the moment it decides to move.”

The dock stretched into gray water, a line of wood swallowed by mist and fog. It felt less like a path than a question, would something emerge, or would it remain hidden until the right moment?

Somewhere beyond sight, wings beat heavy. The geese were gathering, restless in their flight, shifting places for a season about to turn colder. Their calls carried across the fog, a reminder that even what feels still is moving, preparing, deciding.

The dock did not answer with a tone, not even its normal creek, but a stillness that shifted when something was near. It was only held and suspended between what had been revealed and what had not yet arrived. In its silence, it was both refuge and warning.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the dock will no longer stand still, something will claim its space. Is this a shift in emotion, a shift in a season, or a shift in something bigger, that will change the perception of what is in the fog?

When the Fog Breathes

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “The fog does not hide the truth, it prepares us to see it.”

A veil across the water,
a breath between the ripples,
the cove keeps what is stirring,
while silence slowly hides.

Not in absence, but a waiting,
not gone but not yet near,
the fog breathes out its secret,
then pulls it back with intention.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
By tomorrow, the breath of the fog will not be enough, movement will rise.

The Figure in the Fog

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Truth hides in plain sight, waiting for the courage of someone willing to see.”

Fog draped itself over the cove as if the lake had pulled a veil across its face. The silence was steady, but within it was a stirring, as though something was speaking, but unseen, it was a feeling heard within every cell, not something passive, it was bold . The air carried a weight, not of a storm yet, but of a storm preparing to unravel what was.

Someone or something lingered at the far edge of the dock, still, blurred, neither coming forward nor retreating. It was not the figure itself that unsettled the morning, but the waiting, the sense that what was hidden in the fog was already shaping the next turn.

October carries a different weight each year. A month of more quiet that is never still, a month where memory presses close and reflection reaches deeper than other seasons can even dare. What stirred unseen was not gone, it never was. It was only waiting for the veil to lift.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the fog will shift, and with it, the shape of what has always been there will be seen.

When Silence Speaks

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Fall teaches us that letting go is not the fall, but the space for something unseen to begin.”

This week unfolded like a painting of new tones, branches cracking, geese lifting into the fog, chickadees daring to trust the hand awaiting with wonder. Silence, though not empty, was alive, a shifting presence carrying both warning and wonder.

The cove reminded us that even in stillness, transformation is never far. Leaves fall, trees splinter, shadows stretch, but in the letting go, something is always preparing to begin again.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Next week, the fog will arrive, and with it, shapes that will not stay hidden. What will you see in the fog?

October’s Whisper

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


“October speaks both in celebration and reflection.”

Candles burn where silence stays,
the cove folds into shorter days.
Wings cut air in sudden flight,
the lake reflects both morning and night.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Reflection expresses and silence presses. October’s voice will close this week, yet it will not end, only turn the page.

The Uneasy Path

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Every step taken in uncertainty teaches the body how to listen.”

The path curled along the lake’s edge, shadowed by trees that leaned too close. Each breeze seemed to carry a question.

Which one will fall next?

Yet along that unease came another sound, soft, delicate, a flutter that carried no threat. Chickadees darted through the air, their tiny wings quick as whispers. One landed nearby, black cap gleaming, eyes alert yet curious. It had learned the rhythm of hands, the offering of nuts, the trust of presence.

The unease of walking beneath breaking branches met the wonder of a bird that dared to come close enough to touch. Nature carried both at once, fear and comfort, uncertainty and grace. And in that balance, the path continued.

There is no promise of what is next, only the awarness that what is next, is coming.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the path will blur, what waits at its end may not be seen until the fog reveals it.

Cracks in the Quiet

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Even silence has a breaking point.”

The forest doesn’t hold its breath,
it lives within them,
it sends a hush before the Fall,
as geese cut through the sky.

The silence cracks wide open,
and stillness tells it all,
branches bow then splinter,
yet roots refuse to fall.

The lake reflects the fracture,
as ripples circle wide,
shadows stretch their fingers,
with nowhere left to hide.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

Truth doesnt stay down, it seeks the surface to be found. By tomorrow, the cracks will spread, revealing more than silence can contain.

The Sound of Splintering

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


“One crack in the silence can change the rhythm of everything.”

The forest did not fall all at once. It whispered first, dry branches rattling like bones against each other, before a single splinter cut through the air. The pause between splinter and collapse was long enough to hold an entire world of wonder, what direction, what cost, what unknown was about to unfold.

When the fall came, it thundered against the earth, stirring the geese from the shoreline. Their wings beat heavy against the fog as if carrying a message, move, shift, find new ground before the next branch decides.

Even the lake absorbed the sound, sending rings of movement outward, carrying the echo into places unseen. It was not destruction. It was instruction. A reminder that endings are also beginnings, and that the weight of silence is never empty, it is waiting for its next note.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


Tomorrow, the echo will return in another form, one carried on wings.