This is a continuation of the posts titled, An Untitled Novel About The Long Road of Hope.
[ Chapter 1.1 is here. ]
On the road of despair, one freedom may be purchased for another freedom. But true freedom cannot be purchased without hope. Just like a purchased kiss is not a kiss.
Because a purchased kiss does not fill the heart.
Just like purchased kisses, stolen pleasures and comforts gather shame and jealousy like roads gather dust. Where hope grows fruit and thanksgiving, despair gathers shame and jealousy.
Despair grates the stoney ground of a broken heart with broken, screeching plow shares. It makes a God-awful commotion that tastes like the greasy, black smoke of burning plastic. The sound can be so horrible that you have to press your hands hard against your ears, eyes, mouth, nose and soul. All at the same time!
Without hope, there’s no other way to avoid it crawling into your skin and spreading across you like a creeping, malicious intelligence.