Literature
Sunrise Beckons
She stepped out into the early dawn, the sky a steely grey, chilled in her thin T-shirt she crossed the yard, aware of the eerie stillness. Why weren't the birds singing? Why had the sun not yet risen? She reached the end of her path, the locked gate blocking her exit from the garden... in a way it symbolised her life. There was always one more obstacle.
She lay her head against the pergola fence, conscious of the cold wood against her forehead, and looked to the east. As she stared at the pink hue, dazzling the horizon, splitting the darkness the way sunrises always do, her glassy eyes filled with tears as she finally admitted to herself sh