The Prism of Hope

April Pearson

(Photo Credit: April Pearson)

“Grandpa, Parveen tells me there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.” Ashita exclaimed without taking her eyes off the magnificent Vibgyor. “Can we get there first before anyone else gets the treasure?”

Not desiring to quell the palpable excitement in his nine-year-old grand-daughter, Francesco patted her head and replied, “Ashita, there is no pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. But in every rainbow there is hope. A hope bathed in a riot of colours and a hope that unites sky and sand. Every time you see a rainbow my child, you experience happiness and joy. There are however many souls on earth deprived of happiness. You have to help them find their perfect rainbow. Now do you know how a rainbow is formed?”

“No! Please tell me grandpa! I am sure even Parveen does not know this!” squealed Ashita.

Joanne who was walking a few yards behind her daughter and father, smiled listening to the conversation and even paused fleetingly to look at the rainbow once more. There would come a time, eventually, when she would share with her daughter, her own tale of hope. She had chased her own rainbow too.

(Word Count: 200)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details, visit HERE.

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE

One thought on “The Prism of Hope

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