It seemed apropos this morning that while I was revising a short story titled "Dust Storm," the wind howled outside my corner window. In the darkness of dawn, desolation leaked into my corner study, invading my body and jumbling up my insides.
My story deals with themes of abandonment and despair, and the protagonist, Ally, must make a choice: continue the same lonely path (which would keep her safe) or choose a brighter future (which may bring danger to her doorstep).
Currently, Ally's keeping herself in the same situation, where she's stifled, scared, yearning, lonely and, well, safe.
Have you ever questioned choices you've made and realized you may be outgrowing those choices? Realized you may want more? Even if it's not safe?
Perhaps in the future, Ally will be ready to make a different choice.
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