She sat on the steps, enjoying the brisk autumn air. It was the day before Halloween and the smell of cinnamon hung in the air. She knew she’d have to go in soon, but for now life was perfect. The browning leaves floating around her, the rusty oranges and reds that hung from every treetop, a caramel apple in her hand, yes, that was Autumn.
Posted in response to the challenge PAST CONTESTS: Autumn '24: Writing. See Award Winners and All Submissions.
Gentle as water sliding down your face,
A voice like a bell.
A smile as delicate as a rose,
But as strong as an eagle.
Hands and arms with ink scribbled over them like tattoos.
Hair like a sunset.
Every time I open my eyes I see a different world staring back at me.
Sometimes it’s beautiful.
Sometimes I hate it.
Lately, I've seen more hate than love.
Freedom is a concept I think about often.
A concept I don't really understand.
Yes, we have it.
But it often feels like we don't.
How am I supposed to see how free I truly am, when I just feel trapped?
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