literature

A Prison Built of Freedom

Deviation Actions

Published: Jun 15, 2014

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Literature Text

She’s looking out the window, staring at the garden outside. It’s open, that window of hers: as open as the blue sky above her. She’s looking further down now. At the concrete wall that surrounds her small world. Plants and vines are growing across its length, covering the sad grey with the colour of life. Although her hopes were once high, there is sadness in her heart as she looks at the poor excuse of a garden in front of her. No flowers in sight that she can steal. The rotting brown is decomposing into the ground. But the grass is green, and so she smiles.

She wants to feel the same freshness as the trees, so she turns, and walks into her dream. She is happy. She is alone. She is wonderfully free and so she cries. And she sings. And she dances with the clouds because she is OK.

Her tears are watering her surroundings and the sky is darkening with her mood. And as it begins to rain, she walks out of her grey confines, and strolls down the footpath. They all stare at her with disbelief in their words. Such sadness do they see in the girl walking beside them. Such perfection do they see is her dark green eyes and so they cry. And they sing. And they dance with the rain because they are OK.

She walks to the edge of the forest. She knows she’s nearly there. Soon, she sees it. Those grey stones wedged into the ground. Each one individually engraved. Flowers are dying if there are any there at all. Deserted is this place beyond the city in which they all live in. Forgotten is this place so far away from the reach of those that are alive.
She lies between her mother and her father. They were once so beautiful, many years ago. Once so kind, once so loved, cared for by those that were blessed with their friendship.
Emotions are overflowing her memories. Clawing at her heart and begging for attention. Her tears, confused with rain, are salty. She remembers that fateful day so well. The day they departed from the realm of gods and deities, to that of the dead. That man: the man with the knife. That man soaked in royal blood. With the evil grin and disturbed eyes. His heart was rotten. And so she took his dagger stained with red and coated it in a fresh layer of death.

That man… the one who died. He was not missed. He was not wanted. He was dismissed from their minds but that girl… the one with murder on her hands and fear on her face, she is loved. And they turn away with forgiveness in their tears and regret in their dreams. And with her freedom, comes her prison cell. Filled with self-hatred and false hope. Unable to enjoy the beauty of the flowers and the colour of the autumn leaves. So now, that girl is ruined.

The rain begins to quicken its pace. The peace inside of her is dissipating from her reach. And so she knows. She understands how this will end and so she screams to the heavens and she yells and swears and she is angry. So, so angry. Forever will she cry for the deaths of the forgotten. Forever will she curse the kindness of the corrupt.
And as God hears her cries, he will weep. For there is only rage in her heart and her peace is false and her smile is broken and that girl… she is perfect.