uh... it's just a quick drabble. the prompt was just "11:11."

Eloise sits cross-legged atop her thick comforter. Her hands rest neatly in the cavity her legs make. The room is dark; the only source of light is the moon’s illuminating face within the black canvas that engulfs her. At that moment, that’s how the young woman feels.

She feels trapped. Trapped in a world where nobody sees, only looks; where nobody speaks, only says. It is a hopeless battle that Eloise will never win. Forever she will stand on weak legs, holding dull swords. The beast that is Life will continue to swipe at her with its claws, swing at her with a horned tail, and blow wheezy fire at her through its nostrils.

Yet even though she knows it is hopeless, she still tries. She tries for so many reasons. But for only one person.

A small cellphone is wrapped up in her shaking fingers as she continues to sit, her back slightly hunched, waiting. Waiting for the clock on her bedside table to hit 11:11. That one minute of escape, where any dreamer could wish upon a non-existent star. There were only a few minutes left; she could make it until then. Weary eyelids close over watery blue, Eloise can’t stay awake much longer. Only a few more minutes, the small voice in her head echoes. She can hold on. For a slim moment, her eyelids flutter open and her body twitches slightly to the left. The red digits scream up at her— 11:11.

Without a single clue of how many seconds are left in the minute, she quickly wishes. The woman wishes that her phone will buzz, the vibration sending a chill down her spine. He has to say yes, he has to say he will come back to her. He has to, or everything she knows might be disposed of in a single moment. When she finishes her frantic wishing, the fourth digit changes into a 2. As if everything oozes from her shoulders, a sigh escapes her. Eloise has finished her wish with barely any time to spare. But she has made it, and that is all that mattered. Now, she would wait. Only a few more minutes. It had to come true soon, he was probably ready to head to sleep. Nononono, she whimpers. He needs to answer. He needs to reply, a sign that he still bothers to care.

Then, as she watches the clock still, the phone vibrates in her hand, and a wretched sob dribbles from her lips. Fingers too quick and thoughts too unorganized, she has trouble holding the phone to her face.

One new message.


Yes, oh God, yes! the voice screams. Thumb presses a few buttons and the message is opened. He has replied back, and Eloise nearly falls off her bed with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Quietly, she whispers a thanks— to whom is unknown, even to herself, but she thanks nonetheless. When her eyes scan over the small text, her heart nearly consumes itself. For once in her life, nothing in her mind has ever been so clear. Eloise crawls under her comforter and props herself up on one elbow. With a smile, she opens the lid to a prescription bottle. Her head drops lazily upon a goose-feathered pillow and fingers close tightly around the phone, the message still open on its screen. No.

She doesn’t wake up in the morning.

The End

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