How can February be almost over? Didn’t we just pop the cork on New Year’s?

Some things you can count on.

• Time moves on
• And it’s always time for Creative Copy Challenge

The word prompt site threw down the gauntlet in this February-ending submission.

The challenge words are in bold.

Creative Copy Challenge #374

The blackened hand scrabbled desperately at the window’s edge. Her body was a technicolor roadmap of all she endured. Fingers scraped raw clung to the rough edge she did not feel as she prepared to let her body drop.

With a silent scream, Marci launched herself toward the grassy slope below. The impact knocked the breath from her in a strangled whoosh. She took but precious seconds to assure she could move. And move she did.

Running, slipping, stumbling, Marci bolted from a house full of horror with a mob host of pain. He taunted her with the keys to the doorway just outside her grasp. The silver sentries hanging in a rigid stance against escape through the eye of the keyhole’s heart. Oh, how she schemed to reach those keys. But her cell held little to plan her MacGyver breakout.

Her mind shifted to the lone window, looking down in mocking disdain. Somehow she would make that her hatch to freedom. She could not linger on the memories of her attempts. All the failures as she hammered the broken bed slat against a pane that laughed and laughed.

With a final bleating cry, Marci felt the exhilaration of shattered glass raining down its hope. When she got home, she would hug the track coach who relentlessly challenged her in perfecting her long jump. No medal could match the joy of her liberation.

Bracing against a tree, Marci’s battered lungs gasped for relief. Eyes gone flat in determination scanned the landscape and all related means of salvation. Trees cloaked in a costume of embrace seemed comforting in the early dawn.

The rising sun set fingered-fires gesturing through the limbs in invitation.

“This way,” they seemed to whisper.

Marci grabbed on tight and raced toward rescue, striking any thought of defeat. That was simply not in her repertoire.

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Live…Laugh…Love

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