Fiction logo

New beginnings.

Vain hope

By Hannah MoorePublished 6 months ago 2 min read
13

All stories start small, and all start halfway through another, never really new beginnings so much as new developments. Even endings meld and merge into ongoings. Mine is no different. I was born afraid, as my ancestors learnt to be, and brave, as they needed to be, and one day I will die and leave a million ripples behind me. Some will reach a near shore, others will spread outwards, the peaks flattening until barely perceptible. None are likely to make waves, but I keep throwing out pebbles, searching for that little pushback, that lets me know that somewhere out there, my ripple came up against another thrower of pebbles. That no man is an island.

But we are all islands, stood heart deep in the murky cold, tugged at by currents, sending out ripples, afraid, always, to be unknown. Brave, always, to be known. I stand here, smooth pebbles, jagged, rough, heavy, dull and sparkling, beneath my feet in the dark. I submerge myself, grope for one, bring it up, appraise it, toss it out regardless, and lay my palms against the surface, feeling for others. I feel so many undulations beneath my fingers and flatten my hand, pushing back so that the thrower might feel something of them has hit home. I hope to feel the same back. Sometimes I feel so much for others that there is no time to throw a pebble of my own.

Sometimes, I throw nothing out. Sometimes, I pick up my hands, I unfocus my eyes, I let the surface appear still, and feel the calm of my island self, alongside the fear of being forgotten. Sometimes I submerge myself, seeing nothing but darkness.

My story is small in this vast ocean, but it is what I have, and I offer it to you. Today it begins with gratitude, within the already begun tale of trying, within the already processing chronicle of love. It ends with fear, rippling outwards to meld and merge with the still ongoing yarn of vulnerability, within the continuing history of mortality. Tomorrow, the story endures and begins and I stand, heart deep in the murky cold, choosing by touch alone.

Microfiction
13

About the Creator

Hannah Moore

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments (7)

Sign in to comment
  • Test6 months ago

    This was so wonderful! Loved your story!

  • Novel Allen6 months ago

    There are just so many new beginning that one can endure, makes it scary to restart, which seem like just doing the same thing all over again anyway. Deep thoughts.

  • Whoaaaa this was so profound and you added more depth to it with your poetic touch! Loved your story!

  • Lovely... "My story is small in this vast ocean, but it is what I have, and I offer it to you. Today it begins with gratitude, within the already begun tale of trying, within the already processing chronicle of love."

  • Rachel Deeming6 months ago

    It is a philosophical day today for Vocalists. Beautifully written as always.

  • Paul Stewart6 months ago

    You have such a way with words, Hannah. This is beautiful and very emotional. Well done. Are you taking part in the story a day thing? Well done on this. I was enthralled by your poetic words from start to finish.

  • L.C. Schäfer6 months ago

    There are no beginnings, all stories start halfway through another - how true! Thank you for sharing this 😁

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.