A Retelling
She was born to be a light. Her spirit radiant as the full moon in the night sky, a force of beauty, a force of truth, a force of good. But the darkness cannot abide the light, so from the beginning the bitter ghosts and the abashed horrors that lurked in the shadows plotted against her. With the vines of corrupting lies they pulled her down from the sky. She struggled in vain as they dragged her to the bog, but they could not extinguish her light. Wrapped tightly in her cloak she lay buried deep beneath the murky water as one dead to her very soul.
For half a lifetime her beauty was hidden from the world. But the Light who ruled the day mourned her, and searched from the forests prisons to the despairing oceans to find her and remind her of her place.
He found the bog where she lay silent. Afraid to move. Afraid of the horrors above, who made her believe that her light was nothing at all. He called to her but she would not answer so great was the fear that enshrouded her.
For a season, each day, as the dark things retreated, he returned to the bog. He whispered truths that filtered down past the tangle of deception. Slowly, the desire to be free grew within her. She struggled against the vines, pushing away the pain that choked her. Pushing her arms up through the bog she pulled herself to freedom.
She sought the Light that had helped her and begged him to hide her somewhere safe, free from the monsters with their wretched scorn that were creeping nearby. Gently, he pulled back the hood of her cloak, and brushed the sorrowed dirt from her face, and her light illuminated the bog so brightly that the horrors were retreating. She had always the power to be free, and the bitter ghosts could not stand against her when she turned to face them.
She may not have chosen to be dragged under, but she could choose to be free. To return to her rightful place in the sky. To shine.