Dusk into dawn. A storm is coming and the night winds will howl as fiercely as a hyena tearing apart its kill. There was no refuge to be had. All was going to be out in the open. Accusations and defenses flying into the eye of the storm.
No mere bandaid would cover the deep gashes. But she had to do the impossible and that she would. She got up, went into the room and faced the traitors and corner dwellers. She would be heard.
Categories: identity, mental health, photography, Psychology, society, women, writing prompt
I like the phrase corner dwellers. Great writing