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I just wrote this one day. No story line, just a drabble.

Submitted:Jan 5, 2014    Reads: 13    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

Soul stood on the cliffside, staring across the vast, churning ocean ahead. Rain poured down, darkening her usual bright red hair into a bloody red shade. The wind came in torrents, whipping her hair across her face. Her white dress now clung to her wet skin, another weight threating to pull her off the cliff and to the rocks below. Soul stood strong, ignoring the rains and the winds, smiling at the storm. Suddenly, lightning struck, nearly 5 feet from where she stood. Logic told her she should be fried, nothing but a mass of unresponsive meat, but logic failed and she continued to stand, yet, the ground beneath her feet began to crumble. Boom! Thunder roared through the sky and she remembered her stepfather, dying in the hospital. She stood steady. Thunder, again, rumbled in her ears. She remembered her father walking out the door. Her knees quivered. Once again, thunder rumbled and crashed in her mind. Soul remembered the boy who made her feal worthless. She fell forward, refraining from crashing into the sea by gripping a root which was unearthed by the mountains rumblings. For the fourth time, thunder banged. Soul remembered every grave, every lifeless face. Her fingers slipped. Her wings lost their feathers. She couldn't fly, only fall. Where were the righteous angels, promised to lift her to Heaven? Where were the miracles saving everyone else who struggled? Where was the hero who would reach out and grab her hand before she fell? There was no on there. She had been told, "Don't tell anyone, it's a secret." She had been told, "You must open up and tell your secrets." She had been told, "To Hell with everyone else, grow your own wings and fly." But Soul could no longer lift her wings. She no longer saw them shine in the sunlight. She no longer hoped for a better tomorrow. She just hoped she wouldn't hit the bottom.


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