get the InLinkz codeImage by GOROYBOY
They were coming! He tripped over roots and rocks and sliced his hands and knees.
In his mind he saw only his daughter. Would Little Ayla understand? He spent a lifetime locked in his cramped room writing books by oil lamps. And now those books were burned to ash, by the orders of the government who sought to punish him for disobedience and disruption. What did he know of disruption? He was a teacher not a warrior.
All he did was show his students their inner power. Revolution had sprung.
Panting, he thought it odd that even in this moment, he had inspiration. He would write and teach till his last breath. Dipping his finger in the blood that trickled from his slivered palm, he wrote on the sleeve of his robe.
A sharp pain pierced his shoulder, and when he reached towards it he pulled out an arrow. He could barely hear the sounds of horsemen approaching and as he fell his eyes rested on his own script on his sleeve, Love yourself.
The image was so evocative of magic and I’ve been reading about true self love as opposed to regular TLC. True self love is more difficult and life changing. And it is our own inner magic in a way. So this is where my mind took me when I saw this image. Thank you to Goroyboy for providing it for this week’s prompt!
Written for FFfAW (Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers).