Slotted rocks filter rays of starlight onto her hair, her face.
Beautiful and broken, her ankle anchored to granite.
“Go,” she whispers.
My stare like a pinky swear. “I’ll come back for you.”
Then I run, a comet trailing dust and tears.
Memoirist. Long distance hiker. Coffee Addict.
Slotted rocks filter rays of starlight onto her hair, her face.
Beautiful and broken, her ankle anchored to granite.
“Go,” she whispers.
My stare like a pinky swear. “I’ll come back for you.”
Then I run, a comet trailing dust and tears.
Wow.
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Interesting use of the third person plural in this.
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I was going for “gender neutral pronoun”, but it’s neat that it can be read different ways.
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I agree with Cyn, and beautiful word choices.
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Thanks!
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I hope they get rescued!
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Yes! Me too!
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This was beautifully written. Great stuff Amy!
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Aw, shucks. Thanks, Donna! 🙂
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I love the curious phrasing of “their ankle.” It gave me the image of a three-headed monster. based on your submissions this week, I think you are talented at magical and strange settings.
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Well, I didn’t have any scaled trees or marriage elevators, but…. I think I’ll take the compliment! Thank you.
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