Morning Always Comes

If there were silence, she would hear her tears falling, plop, plop, on the shards of broken glass she is trying to pick up one by one. When her skin breaks, it’s the crimson color that shocks her, not the pain. The pain, she is used to.

Around her, the shadows flicker because all that remains of the bulb are bloody splinters in her hand.
The candles move in tandem with her, matching the involuntary rhythm of her buxom body or the quick, shallow breaths she releases with every pulse of her memory.
The night was almost perfect.
But morning always comes.

A scene from my latest novel, coming soon to a location near you. Stay tuned for details.

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Ashley @MilesonOats says:

    I love this, it made me pause from all the picture scrolling on blogger and actually visualize outside of physical pictures. BEAUTIFUL.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Run Wright says:

      Thanks so much, Ashley. That comment has made my afternoon!


  2. Kay R. says:

    Ahh I can’t wait to hear about this novel!! I also write. This made me smile 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Run Wright says:

      Yes! Maybe we can go on the book tour together! 😊


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