This week’s six-sentence story prompt is based on the word….GRIP, provided by girlontheedge. I will say that this one is based on personal experience, and will be relatable to anyone who ever has done themselves a good foot injury and ended up on crutches.
The cushioned grip of the the crutch dug into the heel of her hand like it was pressing into a bruise, the flesh tenderized by a repeated motion that had only started one day prior.
Each clang of her crutch tip hitting the hardwood floors ricocheted around the empty house, which was silent in the dead of night except for one lone figure making a desperate journey.
There was a pause before the step as she tested the grip of each rubber foot lest the crutch slide outward ending in a far more spectacular injury than the one already endured.
The following thump was loud, but dull, and did nothing to convey the pain of impact as it ratcheted upwards through her entire body.
The destination is finally reached and she gasping and dripping with sweat as if a marathon had been run rather than a short jaunt down the hallway and all too soon tears rose unbidden, rolling down her cheeks hot with frustration.
She sags in place knowing she has nothing left for a return journey that will be just as long, this time fueled by the desire only to lessen pain and the fact that not continuing is not an option.