The Brink of Despair

A story a day until there’s a sleigh! This holiday season, I’m sharing a new flash fiction piece inspired by a holiday song every day of December until Christmas. Today’s story is inspired by It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.

The night I was rescued from the Brink of Despair, I heard the angels sing. My salvation came shortly after midnight according to the logbooks.

I’d been on the Brink for months–battered there by the crush of humanity’s folly and the waves of my own regret. I’d lost someone, and then I’d become lost myself, marooned on the Brink.

Those who have been courageous enough to ask have wondered what it’s like on the Brink. Howling winds, icy rains, clinging to the Precipice of Hope until my fingers bled, I grew weary.

On the night of my rescue, I was shouting out into the void as usual, going hoarse with my litany of complaints. The void swallowed my words, and when I could no longer speak, I was forced to listen.

I thought I would hear nothing but the wind for I was alone on the Brink. Instead, there was singing, soft at first, and then growing louder. I did not know the verses, but I joined in on the chorus.

Filled with the music, I gave up my grip on the Precipice of Hope. I began to float. For so long, I thought I would have fallen.

Later I’d find out the angels had been singing to me the whole time. That’s how I knew the chorus. They were always there waiting for me to hear them.

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