Vesta followed the vertical rainbow even as night dampened the skies, and mists rose up to cloud her vision.
She had chased it for miles, snapping pictures with her camera of the rainbow between earth and heaven. No pot of gold necessary.
She knew if she stood in it’s stream of colours, she would be cleansed, freed of the visions and voices that haunted her.
The bitter and the blood of her past and present would disperse, flowing upwards/downwards.
Like all things in her life, the vertical rainbow remained just out of reach, over the next hill, down in the next valley as Vesta struggled.
She crumpled into tears, too tired to continue. She rolled into the fetal position, eyes squeezed shut. She did not want to watch the rainbow slip away.
To leave her like her friends and lovers did. To tease her with hope and promise, then dash her dreams, smash them and her head against the wall.
If only once, there had been an anomaly, a different ending. A wish granted, a hope fulfilled.
As she rocked on the mossy ground, she felt a strange warmth. Peaking with just a slit of an open eye, she saw a bath of shimmering orange, indigo and violet where she lay.
Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt: anomaly #writephoto (Another amazing photograph by Sue!)
© my frilly freudian slip