A Hurried Hope Alyssa Griesman
“Don’t look back,” I repeated. Tears streamed down, blood rushed out, and energy diminished by the second. I felt him inching closer: my pace notably abating…his pace immeasurably persisting. Vivid memories started flashing before me: my family’s love, my friends’ laughter. I sensed my soul slowly separating from my outer shell. Then, a bright, blossoming light appeared, shared with whispers turning into audible sounds, dispelling despair with a hurried hope. As if struck by adrenaline, I pulled out the dwindling stamina that remained and ran faster; my psyche progressively united as his steps and breaths slowly sank into the night.
When the Storm Rolls In | Joey Davide | Photography
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