Sunseeker First Challenge
My brother cracked my rib one morning and gave me half of his orange in the evening.
One evening, in a fit of anger, I told him how I never wanted him to be my brother and he yelled that he didn’t ask for it either. The air smelled like kerosene and my chest was filled with arsenic. I was raging and threw his favorite toy aeroplane down the window, 7 stories of guilt and shame. He cried all night and I wanted to cut off my right hand, the hand that hurt my baby brother. I didn’t know if he was ever going to forgive me or even talk to me. The next morning at breakfast, he didn’t look at me or say a word, I felt like my chest was about to explode and guilt clouded my vision. But then, I felt a hand quietly holding half of an orange my way.
— Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire.
Only the Brave by @solmussa
Scent of the Moon by @quietlemonhush
The Cadence of Part-time Poets by @motswolo
Downfall by @lunardeao3
through a glass, blackly by wheresmejumper
