This is our final Hearthlight journal entry. If you want to start at the beginning, you can do that here:
If you just want to catch up on this week’s entries, they’re below... or, just skip straight to Day 24!
Today’s prompt: “You sit by the hearth on the final day, reflecting on your journey. What are your thoughts?”
Today’s music: Running Down the Clock, by Soul Vital. 🎧 Listen on SoundCloud.
The Final Reflection
I waited in the pub for Hollis to take me back to town. Bernard had the fire lit because the weather had turned savage with a mix of sideways wind-blown ice and water. Some people might call it a hailstorm, but I called it misery. Bernard had brought me a mug of mulled wine, so I sat by the fire, doing as the wine demanded: mulling.
If I was going back to my old life, was I going to let everything slide back to normal? That was the risk, wasn’t it—that I’d revert to my old habits, rather than embracing the new one Hearthlight had offered.
The thing was, Hearthlight hadn’t just given me a new way of acting. It had shown me that there was an alternative to sadness, even when things were hard. And for sure, things were hard in the world. Climate change, politics, the economy… the list went on, and I was pretty sure it sucked regardless of whether you were a red or blue team member. But no one in Hearthlight talked about teams. They celebrated instead: each other, life, and the simple joys in it.
It was something to consider. Was the real answer Hearthlight gave that all we needed was each other and the occasional barbecue, ice cream, or walk with a dog? It couldn’t be that simple. But I’d been here just over three weeks. I hadn’t turned on my phone or watched the news. There was no social media in the hamlet. No clamour for attention, no frenzy of noticing or being noticed. Things here weren’t silent, though. The people talked with each other, but not at each other. They helped one another with simple things, and were enriched by helping or being helped. None of them needed magic or a dragon. They didn’t fear the ghost in the woods, and were happy with Hollis’s take on libraries. It was okay to sometimes pass a good book around, so you could all talk about the ending over a glass of wine.
My life was missing a key ingredient: these moments. I’d lived insulated, my interactions confined to work or online. And Hearthlight’s critical intervention was a simple one. There’s a better way. And by taking the path, you’ll help others on the journey.
I heard the rumble of Hollis’s wagon wheels on the cobbles outside. I stood and realised the hail had stopped. I wouldn’t get soaked going home, and once I got there, I could hope to be happy.
Maybe Hearthlight didn’t fix me. It’s possible I’d just forgotten how to… be. I didn’t need to run at first. I just needed to remember how to walk: slowly, on purpose, and beside someone who wags their tail when they see you.
Roll result? One mug of mulled wine, one farewell hearth, and the sound of wagon wheels on wet cobbles.
XP gained: 1 heartfelt truth, +2 insight on slow living, and +1 to future encounters with joy.
Thanks for journeying through The Hearthlight Chronicles.
If this soft, dreamy wander through found family and forest magic resonated with you, the best thank-you you can give is to check out my latest book, The Three Faces of Fate.
It’s not cosy fantasy. But it is full of magic, found family, and hope for a beleaguered world. It’s what Hearthlight might be like, turned up to eleven.
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