Once again I checked out the prompt line for last weeks Thursday Threads flash fiction contest, hosted by Siobhan Muir, and I saw the story immediately. And again, I also managed to snag another Honourable Mention!I went very dark with this, but it's what spoke to me. Enjoy!
Hope
Hope stood back to check his work, but felt there was still something missing. He stepped forward again and started moving them about, trying to form some kind of symmetry, or pattern that made sense outside his head.
It was tough going and he had broken out in a sweat. He pulled his jumper off and continued, not caring for once about his nudity, not here in the basement. The single unshielded bulb illuminated everything in a flat, stark light, but it also cast deep shadows across his chest and stomach. This pleased him. He didn’t want to see the scars from all those years ago.
As he moved a limb here, and a torso there, Hope realised he was almost done - a few more hooks, and they’d be done hanging; although he’d take a couple of photos first, just for his own records. Then he’d take them down and think about putting together the next piece. It wasn’t going to be easy. He’d gone through all of those who’d mocked him through school, now he needed to find work colleagues. He’d teach them what hope really meant, especially when it was taken away.
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