The Moon by the River
There was a village where pale moonlight rippled through the fields and people prayed to the Moon God for love lost and found. Legend told that the Moon God’s lover was cursed by a wrathful father and sent down to live as a human among men. Since then, villagers lit incense for those who ached or longed, whispering their secrets beneath the silver sky.
In this village, a quiet boy grew up between the murmur of cicadas and the shimmer of water. On a festival evening, he wandered away from his parents, beyond the chanting temple crowd, until he found a hidden path woven with moonflowers. There, behind the ancient shrine, he discovered a river bright with reflected stars. Sitting at its bank was a girl dressed in white, her hair catching the moonlight. Her eyes met his — not a word was spoken. His parents called, their voices tangled with worry, and he ran back, but the echo of that meeting would linger for years.
The next morning, curiosity drew him to the riverbank again. She was there, serene, watching the water move. Over days and months, they became friends without speaking much — exchanging glances, skipping stones, and laughing in silent pockets of dusk. As the seasons turned and their lives intertwined, the silence between them grew golden, and by high school, their hearts bloomed together. At the riverside, under a luminous full moon, he finally confessed his love. She smiled and, in that moment, all his fears washed away.
Time pressed forward. The boy became a man, moving to the city for work, each visit home a thread tying him to the past. He would find her by the river each time, unchanged, as if waiting for him through every monsoon and harvest. She remained hushed, patient, moonlight always in her hair.
Then the world shifted. His parents grew old, and news one day came that they were gone. That visit home was heavy with loss; after, the city pulled him away more easily. His trips dwindled until even the river was a distant memory. At home, the mysterious girl waited beside the water, every day, as if he might walk out from the trees at any moment.
Years blurred with city lights, busy days, new friends, and late nights, but a hollow ache grew where the moonlight had once been. He married—a woman with laughter nothing like the girl's, smiles that quickly faded amid arguments and nights apart. Illness crept in, silent and unforgiving. Divorced, fading, he found himself haunted by memories of the village and the river.
When he realized how little time he had left, regret knotted inside him. On trembling legs, he returned to the village, old paths now unfamiliar. He looked for her everywhere — the river, the fields, the temple steps — but saw only emptiness. Grief thundered within him; he collapsed before the ancient shrine, crumpled by loss, calling out for the only person who had ever waited for him.
In the hush of midnight, he felt a gentle tap. Looking up, there she was, radiant and quiet as ever. Without a word, he pulled her close, finally letting go of years of sorrow. Held in her arms, he felt peace as the world dimmed and the stars blurred. He breathed his last, a faint smile on his lips.
In the morning, villagers found him alone before the temple, his arms curled around nothing but moonlight. He had lived a life no one fully understood, his mind a hall of shadows and dreams. All along, the Moon God had existed only within him — a bright, unyielding presence that never left, even when the world did. The villagers, sorrowful, whispered prayers for the gentle soul who had loved most truly in the company of someone only he could see. The moon’s reflection on the river shimmered, bearing silent witness to a love that was both real and imagined, and the ache of longing left behind.
I have schizophrenia
I am not schizophrenia
I am not my mental illness
My illness is a part of me...
Guys.. thank you for read this and I don't have schizophrenia I wrote it for people who have it so hope you don't get confused..
