Some trails lead to peace. Others lead to the truth you never wanted to find.
Story Prompt
Grab-Hold First Line:
The morning mist clung to her like memory—soft, persistent, and impossible to shake.
190-Word Paragraph:
She ran the familiar wooded trail, the one she and Mark used to jog every Saturday before he vanished. The rhythmic slap of her shoes on the damp earth almost drowned out the echo of his laughter that lingered between the trees. She never understood why he left—no fight, no note, just absence. Running here was her way of pretending he might still be around the next bend. But when sunlight glinted off something pale near a fallen log, she stopped. Kneeling, she brushed aside leaves and mud—and froze. A human femur. Her breath caught as the forest went unnaturally still. No birds. No wind. Only silence—and the faint scent of Mark’s cologne drifting from somewhere deeper in the woods.
Question for Readers:
If you were her, would you run for help—or follow the scent to discover what really happened?
Discover more from Optimistic Beacon
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.