When Pixies Go Quiet

They stand in the mist-covered forest, holding the kind of quiet only old souls understand.

Some silences are sacred. Others are just waiting to be broken. — Elowen

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I miss you, old friend. I miss what we had, who we were when nobody was watching.

I remember our wild adventures. The side-eyes. The laughter. The inside jokes that made people blink twice, while we just laughed harder.

Do you still dance in the rain? Do you still get that sudden urge to laugh just because the day feels light and being alive feels enough? I still take long drives and think of you. You were a terrible co-pilot, and a worse driver, but behind a playlist you were unmatched. You made the road sing.

Everything reminds me of you, the mountains, the skies, the water, the way animals move like they know something we have forgotten. It was borderline psychotic how in sync we were.

Do you still walk barefoot near water to ground yourself? I stopped after you left. The water still calls to me though, like a siren to a sailor.

Elowen says the water remembers. That it hums for those who once danced beside it.

Do you hear it too?

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We had so many plans. What happened to them? You were my travel buddy, and without you I have not moved much. The world feels muted. No one could rile me up like you did, then crack me open with laughter before the rage could take root.

Nobody knows me like you. You know things I do not say out loud, things most people would blush at or shrink from. Not you. Not me. We share a depraved mind. You disguise yours better, and I just do not care.

Yin and Yang. I am the shadow to your spark. You are still my Pixie, no matter where you are, who surrounds you, or what face you wear for the crowd. I know the real you, radiant, mischievous, wild-hearted. Playful. Uncontainable. Magnetic. Some might call you annoying. I call you necessary.

Do you still dance through store aisles, headphones in, swaying like the music wrote itself for you? I used to find awe in the way you would lose yourself in the music and not see the world around you. They did not matter. Just you and your music.

And when you would hum and do that little bounce while eating something that hit just right, I swear joy had a sound, and it was that.

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I still believe in the power of energy, of souls, of divine timing, of connection that does not vanish just because it has gone quiet. I believe certain people come into our lives to stay, even if they step out of view for a while.

You were never fleeting. I felt it. This was not a passing soul-tide. I knew it the moment we met. As an empath, I felt it in my gut. You were not passing through. You were woven in.

This is not goodbye. It is a pause. A gap between chapters. So we could pour into others and help them grow, the way only healers like us can.

Elowen once told me that the ones who vanish loudest are often the ones who return with the softest step.

But can you maybe hurry back from your break? It is time. You know I do not like people like that. You were my buffer between the chaos and my quiet hardness, and without you I will not lie. I am not faring well.

You are still the people’s person to my still-loaded silence. Twin souls, we used to say. That never felt like a joke.

So wherever you are, dancing, laughing, hiding, I feel you. And when you are ready, I will still be here. Let us write the next chapter.

Elowen stands at the edge of this silence. She does not rush it. She simply keeps the lantern lit for the moment your footsteps return.

Written in longing, in memory, in quiet magic. By Eve

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