Welcome, I'm
Lily Black
A writer and artist known for her subtle yet profound explorations of the human experience. With a love for the beauty found in contrast, Lily's work often merges the elegance of nature with the boldness of the modern world. Inspired by the soft allure of roses and the deep mystery of the color black, her words evoke both serenity and strength. Whether through poetry, prose, or visual art, Lily Black's creations resonate with those who appreciate simplicity, elegance, and the timeless power of art.
My Stories
FEATURED STORY
The Watcher’s Signal
​by: Lily Black
Elias Rourke wrote in his journal as a storm battered the island. Lightning lit up the cliffs, and waves pounded the rocks below the lighthouse. He’d seen storms before, but this one felt wrong. The air was heavy, and the wind carried sounds that didn’t belong—low whispers just at the edge of hearing.
The light wasn’t working properly. He’d disconnected the machinery earlier, but it still flashed, throwing erratic beams into the night. Rourke noted this in his journal, trying to stay logical. But things were happening that logic couldn’t explain.
His dreams had changed. Each night, he saw his wife—long dead—waiting for him in places they’d never been together. In these dreams, shadows stood behind her, watching him. He woke up drenched in sweat, the whispers from the wind still in his ears.
The journal entries became frantic. He wrote about ships appearing on the horizon. They didn’t move like real ships. Some were broken, with torn sails. Others vanished as quickly as they came. He smashed the lighthouse lens in desperation. By morning, it was whole again.
In his final entry, Rourke wrote: "I tried to leave. The boat brought me back. I broke the light. It rebuilt itself. This place takes what you can’t bear to lose. If you see the light, turn away. Don’t let it see you."
The pages ended there. Outside, the lighthouse stood silent, its beam slicing through the dark, as if waiting for something new...
FEATURED STORY
The Door
​by: Lily Black
I found the door in the woods. It wasn’t there the day before. I was walking my usual route when I saw it—just standing there, out of place. A wooden door, with no walls, no house around it. It looked old, like it had been there for years, even though I was sure it hadn’t.
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Curious, I walked closer. The air around it felt cold, almost like a breeze, but there was no wind. I stood in front of it for a long time, staring at the brass doorknob. It was shiny, like someone had polished it recently. The door was just... out of place.
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I reached out and touched the knob. It felt warm, not cold like everything else. I hesitated for a moment. Why was it so warm? Should I open it?
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But something pushed me. A feeling, like I needed to. So, I turned the knob. It creaked loudly, but the door didn’t open. It felt stuck, like something was on the other side, holding it closed. I gave it a shove, and finally, the door opened.
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There was nothing on the other side. Just darkness. No light, no sounds, nothing. But the feeling, the weight of it, felt... wrong. I tried to step back, but my feet wouldn’t move. It was like the air around me had thickened. I could barely breathe.
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I looked back at the door. The darkness was pulling at me. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I had to go through. Every part of me screamed to turn and run, but I couldn’t. My legs moved forward, dragging me through the door.
The moment I stepped through, the door slammed shut behind me. I looked around, but there was still nothing. No walls, no ground, just an empty void. And then, I saw it...
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Feel free to get in touch if you'd like to collaborate, share your feedback on my stories, or ask about my future projects.
