50 Word Non-Fiction: Hope – Batch 9

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

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Heart-shattering, throat-punching, all consuming betrayal delivered in three breaths. And yet, in a moment where a love was forever lost, there you were. A constant warm hum, which enveloped my very being and carried me forward. Some days we barely moved. Regardless, foundations were built anew.

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Barely bigger than a pinhead before being gently buried. Secretly swelling, silently opening, caressed by hidden heat, quenched by human intervention, searching alone for light. First, two leaves, nervously attached to a resolute stem, push through the dark soil. Two more are quickly in their wake. Green, growing, alive.

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Centre fir help

Hame fae hame

Yer mer than jist a name

Honesty void ae any shame

People learning tae cope

Darkness tae light peppered in hope

It’s Chris’s House but it’s Anne’s heart

Offering the masses a fresh start

Brick by brick cemented by unity

Unwavering strength embedding community

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Harried in a cacophony of sanctimonious positivity; starkly juxtaposed to the depths of the endless turbulence of my tsunami of hopelessness. When there was nothing else; no future promised; I chose hope. Entwined with friendship and nature keeping me alive, saving the pain from the generation behind HOPE reigns triumphant.

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He stood silently in his box, head bowed. Four days had passed since I first brought him indoors, willing him to recover. The shock of the attack with the three dead bodies left around him, had rendered him speechless. But hope filled me as head lifted, he crowed once more.

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Everything slowly became illuminated. Like a drafty room, my heart began to warm by an invisible fire. Gloomy shadows transformed into portals to a new world – a corner of possibility. I felt an ease of breath, unburdened by the "what ifs". Hope arrived in the belief of a better tomorrow.

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I decided to leave when I had a gun pointed at my head; a child with beaming parents.

Unsafe place to be, social unrest, Lèse-majesté.

People "disappeared"; dead.

Here, I express freely; my voice heard. Liberty, upheld. Opinions, discussed and considered.

I can fully be me.

I am alive.

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What is holding you back? Fear? Of failure? Of success? Of losing everything? Stop. Close your eyes. Breath. Imagine your happy place. Smile. Is there is tiny bud of hope? Feel it. Grow. Never give up. Live your dreams. Enjoy. And remember one word, more important than everything else: Hope!

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Your child should never be sick! My Ewan collapsed 5 years ago with Wolf Parkinsons White Syndrome. Three corrective heart surgeries later he has a chance at a normal life. Hope kept us going through those years of fear. Touching his feet every night in the hope he was breathing.

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In the quiet of her father's passing, she cradled life within—a fragile hope amid the ache of loss. Denial veiled her grief, shielding her unborn child from sorrow's weight. Yet, in whispered promises, she found solace, weaving a legacy of love and resilience amidst the pain of farewell.

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