(hope)

Hope

She is a grounded child seeking a playmate in her shadow.

She is an echo, hitting the wall of isolation, waiting to see if she’ll be caught as she bounces back.

She is a tap on the shoulder, toothpaste on a mosquito bite, a kiss on the bruise.

She is the reason we taste the coffee a second time, even after getting burnt the first.

Writing Prompt #3

“Oh, my God”

She touches her left ankle gently, carefully pressing on either side of the wound. She feels her breath catch in her throat as the blood trickles over her shaking hands. Fuck. Clenching her teeth, she tries targeting her toes. Tries to make them point, flex, wiggle, move. She can’t. With a shriek of desperation, she yanks the blood-soaked fur boot off her foot, only to cry out in pain as her ankle violently snaps back. Tears blind her. She reaches out but find no one to hold her steady. She takes hold of a nearby piece of drift wood and knocks it over. Her raw knuckles burn as she scrambles on her knee, sliding her hands over the sharp rocks and broken glass that cover the dock. She takes hold of a piece of metal, presses it against the driftwood hard- until her palms bleed- and carves her name. Quietly, she jumps into the blue.