50 Word Non-Fiction: Hope – Batch 5

Every week, we publish the latest (this link will open in a new window)50 Word Non-Fiction stories of Hope. Read this week's pieces below!

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Hope, as cliche as it may sound, was brought up to my dull world when my little one was born. Watching her little face and holding her little fingers are one of the best things in the world. When I look up, even the greyest sky can shed some light.

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And after the scans came the injections. Then there were more drugs; sharp, stinging little wasps in every syringe. I was bruised and tired and I hoped and held my breath and hoped. Ten long days and suddenly it was the start of miraculous you, and your tiny fluttering heartbeat.

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In the darkest of nights, amidst despair's chilling embrace, a single candle flickered. Its feeble glow defied the shadows, whispering tales of resilience. Hope, though fragile, refused to surrender. In that flicker, hearts found solace, and dreams, a glimmer. For even in the abyss, hope remained humanity's unwavering beacon.

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Cold toes in wellies, I looked at the unfortunate cow, stuck in a muddy hole with part of a calf sticking out of her back end, and all hope of getting back to my bed while it was still warm evaporated. Should've learned a trade after all!

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It’s hard to say what messed me up more: the illegal substances or the girl. Or if I was headed towards a profound psychotic breakdown anyway. I misplaced myself for exactly one calendar year. It’s tricky to decide what gave me more hope during recovery. Different drugs? The right girl?

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On my desk that morning, in the leaking classroom with the bare wooden floorboards. 'Dear Teacher Thank you so much for teaching Ash her long sums. Hope you enjoy the steak pie and tape! Sincerely The McMonagles (Butchers).' Success! I listened to Dave Brubeck all the way home.

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Scottish teachers require infinite hope. Hope that our pupils will be winsome wee weans who adore learning, not half-tamed savages who adore destroying classrooms and dreams. Hope that they know how much we care – even for those wee classroom-wreckers, even after the bell goes, even after their final day.

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When imposter syndrome comes to call I find hope in the pages of my library because behind every epic adventure, spellbinding fairytale, page-turning mystery, swoon-worthy romance, heartbreaking drama and spine-tingling horror is the unwritten story of an author who battled rejection, slayed the demons, and found the path to publication.

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The cat nudged her arm. The pen jolted and kept moving until the paper was prop full and Ella was finally content. Giddily, she folded the letter and sealed it in the envelope adding a kiss for good luck. 'MUM! How long before the letter reaches the North Pole?'

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If you believe in magic, imagine you're seven. You've learned to put your dreams into the azure twist of a marble. Bright, unbreakable. You watch most skitter and dink away, but you've kept this one close and one day you're grown. A baby cries. Eyes as blue as the sea.