STORY STARTER

“If only this world had shown me a little more mercy…”

Continue the sentence and write a single scene inspired by it.

Mercy Towards Love

“If only this world had shown everyone who lived in it a little more mercy…then maybe we could be together. Maybe we wouldn’t have to rely on the company of men to see each other.”


Away from the festivities, away from our stifling dates, we stumbled into the garden. Our academy’s colors bloomed in the red and white roses flourishing together in harmony, rows interchanging. The edges of the gravel path were littered with fallen petals, some buried under the small stones, crumpled and brown. In the night, it mimics the softness of snow dotted with drops of blood, and with the cold biting our shoulders, it may as well be winter. Gooseflesh rises on Lola’s skin, and I wanted to lean over and kiss the cold away, but the cross erected at the heart of the grove casted its holy gaze. A stern reminder of everything we were taught.


“But they can’t hang us for it, Jodi,” Lola whispered.


“What is that supposed to mean?”


“If they find out, if they see your hand enveloped lovingly in mine, we will be given every punishment you could think of: expulsion, ridicule, bigotry, hate. But that will never truly eradicate what we have. Unless they fasten nooses around our necks, push us down a ledge, and let our bodies swing, go blue, then what they hate will still live on. The thoughts of your smile, your unbridled kindness, the way you helped propel me forward, they will remain. Your trust in me will never dissolve, nor will the key you gave me to your heart. Even if we are kept apart and I cannot directly convey my devotion, it will never die.”


No response from me. Not even an attempt at one. I swallowed as the tears broke through.


“This doesn’t mean I am not afraid, this doesn’t mean I’m braver than anyone else. What this does mean is that when our facade of obedience is snuffed out, I will not give up on you. On us.” With gloved hands, she wiped my eyes. I resisted the urge to peel them off and touch the soft skin beneath.


“That’s wonderful to hear.”


I took my hand in hers, and we danced to the muffled music filtering into the air. The winds calmed, made room for the steady, thumping rythm. At first, we did so without freedom. Our movements are tight, as if chained to each other. My hands on her waist, and her hands cupping my face, we swayed back and forth stiffly, like statues learning their new ability to move freely. Then I tripped on my own feet, and the laughter we shared loosened us. We removed our heels and chased each other, unflinching at the stabbing pain of the gravel as they crunched loudly under our toes.


The cross was forgotten about too.

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