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Whispers of the River
#WritcoStoryPrompt16
She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.
She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. There was no hope left...
She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away. The river, swollen from the recent storms, had become an unstoppable force, crashing against the rocks with a fury that seemed to have no end. The water surged beneath her, thick and dark, swirling violently around her legs, its icy touch creeping higher, inch by inch.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the choking current. The branch she clung to felt like it might snap any moment, its bark smooth and wet beneath her fingers, offering little more than a faint promise of stability. She had no idea how long she had been hanging on—minutes? Hours? Time seemed to stretch and distort as the current roared around her ears, drowning out all other sounds.

She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. It tasted of mud and despair, a bitter reminder that the river would not relent. The water surged, pulling at her legs, at her body, as if it could sense her weakening resolve. The strength in her arms was fading fast, her fingers slipping with each desperate grasp.

There was no hope left.

After it, after the night that had brought her here, she thought she might have been able to make peace with herself. After everything she had lost—her home, her family, her future—how could this final fight against nature even matter? The thought of letting go, of surrendering to the river’s embrace, felt almost peaceful in comparison to the constant struggle. She could feel the coldness of the water rising over her knees, and then her waist, and it whispered promises of an end to the pain.

But then, she heard something—an echo of a voice, a memory she hadn’t realized was still with her. Her sister’s voice, soft and insistent. *“Don’t give up. Not yet. There’s always another way.”*

The thought startled her. Her sister had always been the strong one, the one who never backed down. In that moment, she couldn’t ignore it. A spark of something deep inside her flickered to life—a flicker of defiance, of survival.

With a strained gasp, she tightened her grip on the branch once more. Her fingers screamed in protest, but she held on, pulling her body higher, inch by painful inch. The current tugged harder, but she fought back, her heart pounding in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins. She wasn’t ready to die here, not like this. Not when there was a chance, however slim, that she could still fight.

The water lapped at her neck now, the darkness pressing in around her, but her resolve had hardened. Her mind raced, searching for a way out. She glanced upstream, her eyes catching a glimpse of something—a dark shape rising out of the water. Was it a rock? A branch? Something to hold onto?

Without thinking, she reached out with her free hand, stretching as far as she could. Her fingers brushed against something solid, and with all the strength left in her, she grabbed it. The world spun in a blur of water and panic, but the solid mass in her hand gave...