The wind carried the whisper heavy with intent to be near.
Softly it lay in my hand, with a foreboding of fear.
I watched it nestle and take root, warmth seeping into my veins.
The light, so bright and hypnotic overcame.
The darkness that came from it blinding to the truth.
A whisper of hate, a whisper of fear.
Heavy with foreboding and danger in my ear.
My veins full of ice and the sadness of my tears, I ripped and tore at the whispered scars.
The fear dripping onto the floor.
The wind carried the whisper heavy with intent to be near.
Softly it lay in my hand, with a foreboding of fear.
About the Creator
T.L. McConaughy
Weaver of stories & guide of souls. Up-market women’s fiction with a shimmer of magic—strong heroines trading trauma for tenacity. Hope • Heart • Harmony. I heal, inspire, transform.
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