Fractured Hope

Have you ever found that faint little glimmer of hope you’re hesitant to even look at because you’re afraid it might not be real? But you can’t look away, no matter how much you want to disbelieve. That little sphere somehow wormed its way into your darkness and even though the light may be dim, it’s the only source you have and you’re drawn to it. You cling to it. And when you hold it in your hands you begin to realize that the glow it gives off is casting shadows. That you can almost make out parts of yourself again, there in the fringe of the dim light. Not quite well enough to see your reflection, but at least a vague outline.

But the shadows are still swirling around in the black about you. Prowling. Watching . Stalking. You begin to walk forward, cradling that little orb of hope close to your chest. As you move forward it grows brighter, even if only slightly. But they still follow. The creatures. So you walk faster. And faster. And faster. Breaking into what is nearly a full on sprint just to escape the sounds of their claws padding across the ground.

But that was what they wanted wasn’t it. A hunt. Now they’re all around you as you run, their howling screams of delight filling your head. Terrified, you glance back to see whats chasing you, and you stumble. The orb flickers like the light of a candle, nearly going out. Gasping for breath, you come to a complete stand still, praying that it doesn’t die. Begging it to stay. Holding it tight against you, as if your small warmth could bring the light back. But it doesn’t. It gets dimmer, until its barely even there. Just a speck. You stare at it, holding it as though it might shatter in your hands. Silently sinking slowly towards the ground as the tears and desperation nearly drown you. Because you know what’s coming.

One of them snickers as it watches you. A dark, wheezy, frenzied rasp. As if finding the orb to begin with was simply some sort of cosmic game it was playing with you. And then… the orb goes out. All is black.

The wolves will feast tonight.
22-25, F
1 Response Nov 29, 2012

This is a beautiful story of hope you wanted to keep alive but then lost. I hope everyone would try and not give up though. But yes, the feeling of loss is sometimes too overwhelming to ignore.