Tessa Emily Hall–author of Purple Moon– hosts a weekly writing competition on her blog, and today I came in second!
Below is my entry:
I just stand there, looking at her. Finley’s wispy brown hair blows across her face, twisting in the cold breeze. Solemn green eyes peek between the strands. She sniffs and swipes at the grime on her cheek with the back of her hand. Somehow she’s even more beautiful dirt-streaked–if that’s even possible. Something else shines through her exhaustion– in her wide, solid stance, in the anger hardening her eyes, in the whitened knuckles of her clenched fists. She’s not defeated–no. She’s fighting inside, building to the climax, the final battle, the deepest kind of strength bleeding through the outer wounds.
“All right, Adrian?”
She’s caught me staring. Again. I smirk, beyond caring by now. Hoping that maybe she doesn’t mind–maybe hoping for more than that. No, not hoping– aching.
“I guess.” I shrug, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop again.
She sighs and shakes her head. “Of course you’re not. I’m so stupid.”
“No you’re not.” I want to say more than that. Do more than that. Want to run my fingers through that flyaway hair. But I won’t, because I’m afraid I’ll scare her away. If she runs, I’ll die, burn inside. Be reduced to a twisted mess of ashes and smoke, just like our city.