Writing Prompt
Chase Goodwin not only lost his left arm in combat in the Middle East—he lost the never-quit, never-give-up spirit that had once been as much a part of him as his skin. Now he wandered the city on a disability check, most of it gone to cheap alcohol and quieter nights.
Today, he sat on a park bench, broke and spiritually broken, staring at pigeons fighting over crumbs. Then the scream cut through the air.
“Stop him! He’s taken my baby!”
Chase looked up. A man was running straight toward him, clutching something tight against his chest—small, wrapped in a blue blanket, shaped like a football.
For a split second, Chase froze. Then he felt something he hadn’t felt in four years. Not anger. Not fear. Something deeper. Something familiar.
His heart began to pound.
His breath steadied.
His body leaned forward.
And without thinking—before doubt could speak—Chase stood up.
Writer’s Question
At what exact moment does Chase’s old self return—and what does it cost him to act?