Hope Emily Dickinson 소설 & 이야기

She didn’t need to. She’d come with a smile and left like a queen. And yet, Emily felt the sting of her words like a blade tucked beneath silk. But even as the ache settled deeper in her chest, she looked down at the daisy one last time. Still whole. Still beautiful. Still in her hands. But… She wasn’t a daisy. She didn’t belong where she was, yet survival was her only choice. Still, she carried hope… hope that one day, she’d find a place of her own and finally blossom.

To her dismay, Jane found herself walking down the hall to English with Lucy by her side, still talking, talking, talking. "I didn't know you were such a big reader, Jane," Lucy said, smiling at her. "I guess because your book-report books are always so short. But length isn't what matters in a book. I love a lot of short books, too. Just look at poetry. A poem can be any length. There are millions of wonderful poems that are only a few lines long. Like Emily Dickinson's poems. She can say more in two lines than most people can say in a hundred pages. What part are you up to in A Tale of Two Cities?"

Lucy said. She? “ She? Who is it Lucy?” Liam says as he tries to rack his brain. It can’t be Hailey, she wasn’t in Canada. So who? Apart from his mother and his sister, Hailey, he didn’t have much women in his life. “ It’s Emilia Peyton sir and she’s already here. Do I send her in now or later, although I doubt she’ll want to wait.” Lucy says. Liam is in shock for about ten seconds, reason being that he never imagined that Emilia would come to see him. It was still too early.

Searching for soil, for purpose. I’m hungry to save you, the gesture implied. Don’t fear me. I’m not the intruder here. You are. And that place there, that place is the trap. With the same finality, the same pity, which Emily lent the rat (a thunk to the head with one of her wooden spoons to finish what baited cheese and spring-loaded barbs had not), she continued up the steps. “I have to go.” “Then you’re doomed.” “Yep, honey, I know that, too.”

THE BRAIN HAS CORRIDORS SURPASSING MATERIAL EMILY DICKINSON Haley came early to pack my things. The mere thought that I will be leaving this death trap today feels me with absolute joy. I would dance but every bone in my body will shatter. Ah! I so much need a drink right about now. She sets down my things in the trunk of her car and after receiving an earful of lecture about things I am allowed and not allowed she helps me up and with her aid I get to the car.

We walked past what must have been fifty tombstones before we found the one we were looking for. I released Tammy's hand and crunched down to its level, to read the inscriptions on it. The words were; Emily Rashford, 1862-2001. That was a hundred years plus. She lived longer than most humans did. I glanced at Tammy whose eyes were solely focused on me. I stood up and pulled her close to me, wrapping an arm around her waist.

And as I looked to the horizon, a flicker of hope ignited within me, a beacon to guide me through the darkness that had consumed my soul. In the stillness of the night, when the moon hung high in the sky, my thoughts invariably turned to Emily. The darkness around me seemed to mirror the abyss that had settled within my heart since her disappearance. The weight of her absence was a constant ache, a reminder of how much I had let her down.

Was Emily out to test my self-control? ****

Hope called out to me with a pale face. “Oops, here comes her father," Emily said while walking away.

When she finally stood up, her face was red, and her tears soaked her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” she murmured without looking me in the eyes. “How did you find me?” I put my hands in my pockets and exhaled, relieved to have found her. “This was the last place I saw you,” I said as my eyes fell on the tombstone. Emily Scott. Emma’s mother’s grave. “Don’t you have anything more important to do?” She lifted her gaze to me, and I saw the hatred in her eyes. “Why can’t you just let me live my last days in peace?”