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Weekly Contest #83
TW: suicide I crawl at the inky surface: desperate, feral, like an animal trying to escape a trap. I manage to steal one small gasp before the waves return, shoving me against the jagged rocks that slowly tear apart my fragile body. I’m not sure what pulled me to the water tonight. Maybe it was the moon, pulling me toward the water just as it pulled the water toward me. It always seemed to do that. “You are a child of the high tide,” my mother told me, as she gently brushed the sand from my corn-silk hair. “You and I are ...
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