Ribbon – A Drabble

“You’re the only one who can make it,” Liam said. I could almost hear the absence of saliva.
“No pressure.”
My predecessor had chosen a fine time to die: three days before I officially became her pupil and began my training. We hadn’t seen rain since the funeral and now, the sun was hotter than I had ever felt.
“She told me the key was a precarious balance of feelings.”
“Like what?”
“Like a battered pink ribbon, floating in the wind.”
The image struck a chord between beauty and despair. And one by one, the raindrops bathed my broken heart.

This story was written based on this prompt.

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About Aheïla

Somewhere in Quebec City, Aheïla works as a Game Design Director by day and writes by night. Known for her blue hair, unyielding dynamism and tasty cooking (quails, anyone?), she’s convinced “prose is the new crack”. She satisfies her addiction daily on The Writeaholic’s Blog and weekly on Games' Bustles View all posts by Aheïla

2 responses to “Ribbon – A Drabble

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