This week's mandatory element is hope, in a story based on the prompt below:
In the Palm of Her Hand
Penelope sighed, closing her eyes in a desperate attempt for inspiration. Discarded globs glinted dully around her. She’d have to remember to recycle the material, but for now, she had bigger problems.
There were only a few hours left before the deadline and absolutely nothing original or even remotely interesting had come from her brain, her hands, or any other part of her. Everyone already saw her as a joke. She couldn’t fail again.
She puffed her breath out, reopening her eyes. Wisps of gold danced among her fingertips as she molded a delicate, spherical cage that spiraled out in waves, which darkened with her plummeting mood. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for this.
She spun the trinket in her hand. It fell to the translucent surface before her with a clink. On a whim, she ignited a spark in its center, brows drawing together at the wash of light. Perhaps this one could become a star after all.