By Laura Porter
For Sale: Jar of hope (used).
Clarion read the advertisement aloud over breakfast. Of course, we told her to buy it.
It arrived half-full, shimmering in a carton packed with shredded disappointments.
“Does that mean it works—or not?” she asked.
We couldn’t say.
After the matron cut the lights, we slipped from our beds into deepest shadow. Each of us dipped two fingers into the jar’s glow, dabbing radiance at the hollows of our throats and on our lips. So marked, we clasped hands to close a circle of light. Sparks fizzed and burned. We let go.
Released, hope dissolved.
Great story, Laura. Congratulations!
Wow. Beautifully written. Very Visual.
Beautifully written! This made me immediately think of those young women who worked in those watch factories. They painted the watches with radium paint. Their bosses knew, but they didn’t say a word to them.
So many died as a result of not knowing.
Such a beautiful, haunting story!
Wow! Beautiful and vivid.
Brilliant!
Love this story, Laura. Well done!