I kinda like how this turned out, and I think it's pretty good for someone like me who hasn't written and been left uninspired for months! Sorry for any mistakes, and please feel free to review and give me feedback on this turned out. Enjoy.
Washed Out Blue
Song – Ólafur Arnalds – Tunglið
Image Prompt – http:/25(.)media(.)tumblr(.)com/tumblr_lnjbd5XgfK1qi6nz8o1_500(.)jpg
"Sometimes we need the fog to remind ourselves that all of life is not black and white." - Jonathan Lockwood Huie
The wind sweeps through the deserted road; sending dust and leaves about, whistling in the quiet stillness of nowhere. Nothing stirs in the silence except for the breathing of the small figure in the middle of road, and the blinks of the washed-out color of the advertisement board miles away. The road is flanked with rolling green hills on either side, but in the twilight, all that meets the eye is the lonely barbed-wire fences spanning on and on for miles.
A roll of thunder is heard and a crack of lightning appears in the dark sky, momentarily illuminating the pale girl's face; eyes bloodshot as she stares out into the open; far away. The wind blows harder this time, rustling her wild hair, blowing a few tendrils into her face, but she continues to stand motionless.
She is tired; mentally and physically. All she knows is hopeless; all her dreams have been crushed when the search for her father; retracing his footsteps for the past few months have given away to nothing. Standing here right now, she feels as if it fits her situation exactly. She is swimming in a murky darkness, trying to reach for the light, but every step exhausts her, and she is just about on the verge of giving up.
After all, what is there left for her?
Thunder claps again, and the heavens are dark and heavy with upcoming rain, but she still stands in the middle of nowhere, refusing to leave. She will figure this out, and what place is better than a lonely road to decide whether to give up or start over again?
She lifts her face to the sky, and a crack of lightning shakes the world, lighting up the dark grassland. Just for a moment, the tree, bare of leaves on top of the hill comes into view, its skeletal branches jutting out in awkward angles, before it slinks back into the inky darkness. Life lost, she thinks. Life lost, but when spring comes, its flowers will bloom and it will be returned to its former glory. Either that or it is permanently dead.
The tree is like a shade of the living; a ghost hovering between the lines of life and death; uncertain whether to remain dead permanently or pull itself back together. Is she like that? She wonders, not for the first time, what the world, what life has to offer her. For nineteen years, all it has offered her is temporary happiness and pain that sucks her up and abandons her there, in the darkest, deepest trench, leaving her to pull herself back up. And now her only hope of family is gone, and she repeats, what is there left?
The storm moves in then, and the rain pours down, first a fine, rhythmic patter, and then it gets out of control. The wind howls and shrieks and the rain echoes back, thrumming everything it touches with its wet fingertips, including her.
She is soaked and she cannot hear her thoughts over the roar of the rain. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, and then they squint open again, and she can still make out the blurry light up ahead. Her expression slowly changes; the pain and grief and indecision tearing at her heart just moments ago are slowly washed away. Her mind is blank now; her expression is peaceful as her arms slowly lift up, as if inviting the storm to wash her fears away.
Later, when the rain stops, she's still standing in the middle of the road.
Something's changed now. She doesn't know what it is, she doesn't know what's brought it on, or if it's just because of her enjoyment of getting doused, or something, but she decides that she's not going to stop moving. She has new dreams to be lived out; she has places to visit, and the past to be put behind. She doesn't know if she has a purpose for being on this earth, but she's sure she'll find out in the future.
She shivers in her clothes and starts walking, her footsteps making disgusting squishing noises from her soggy shoes.
The rain had washed the smell of dust away, replacing it with a new smell of wet earth. Slowly, the stars come into view above her, and like an old nursery rhyme she once sang, they twinkle; like little diamonds in the sky.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." - Confucius