#lost luck

[promptsstuff]

#Blog 19

(Lost luck)

Once an angel appeared in dream, offered to grant a wish between hardwork and luck. A person life was destroyed, he chooses to be lucky.

Mere luck without hardwork is a curse. Fortune favours the brave. So whether we were lucky or not is in our karma.....

What do you think???

[beauty-on-wings]

The Lost Luck of the Irish | Shelen

                         Helen had sat in the coffee shop for what felt like a lifetime after Taylor had left. She had lost track of time, staring down at the cup of coffee that the waitress had sympathetically placed before her. People had come and gone, she could hear whispers around her; people talking in hushed voices about the celebrity in their midst, trying not to stare as they questioned why she looked like hell or why she hadn't moved since they had arrived. If she had of been fully aware of her surroundings she would have been grateful for the lack of paparazzi, it seemed that those that had recognized her had also recognized her current state and had taken pity on her. 

                        Hours had passed, and Helen had remained in the same chair, with the same cold as ice cup of coffee clasped in her hands like a lifeline. It wasn't until the waitress had returned to announce closing time that she moved; the kind woman gently touching Helen's shoulder to stir her from the non-existent thoughts that held her captive. Helen had collected her things in an almost zombie like fashion and headed towards the door. Night had fallen - and part of her knew she should head home but a even greater part of her didn't want to. She didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts, she didn't want to think about anything and the noise helped.

                                                The noise and one other thing.

                        So instead of turning left and heading back to her apartment she had turned right, towards a small bar she knew that would be busy on a night like tonight. And it was there she sat now, studying the contents of her fifth, or was it sixth, double vodka and cranberry, listening to the cheerful singing of those celebrating being Irish  - cheeks still stained from the tears that had fallen hours before. Nobody paid her any attention, no one seemed to notice her or want to deal with the sad girl in the corner, and she could slowly feel her body becoming as numb as her mind.