A quick word: It's a rather morbid story, but I still like it. I wrote it earlier today. I hope you enjoy.
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Up in the tower she waits, in a room that was once abandoned. What will become of this girl, with her frail body and pale skin? Will she wither into bone dust, her remains settling on the furniture of the room? And from this dust will her soul float up gracefully, a luminous blue and green among the dead, dank room? Everyday the girl waits, a maiden watching out the window for her hope. Her hope withers with her body and the once womanly curves are reduced to near bones. If only this tower held a door, then she wouldn’t feel so helpless, be so helpless, a Rapunzel forgotten. That is what she is. And so the girl waits to escape her sad fate until she can stand it no more. She now stands perched in the only window on the bleak, grey tower. Her eyes close as she feels the caress of summer breeze. She can smell her freedom rapidly approaching, so she leans forward and releases. Down and down she falls. Her body makes sickening contact with earth. And up her soul floats, a radiant prism of green and blue, to the heavens. A maiden’s freedom, born from tragedy.
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Up in the tower she waits, in a room that was once abandoned. What will become of this girl, with her frail body and pale skin? Will she wither into bone dust, her remains settling on the furniture of the room? And from this dust will her soul float up gracefully, a luminous blue and green among the dead, dank room? Everyday the girl waits, a maiden watching out the window for her hope. Her hope withers with her body and the once womanly curves are reduced to near bones. If only this tower held a door, then she wouldn’t feel so helpless, be so helpless, a Rapunzel forgotten. That is what she is. And so the girl waits to escape her sad fate until she can stand it no more. She now stands perched in the only window on the bleak, grey tower. Her eyes close as she feels the caress of summer breeze. She can smell her freedom rapidly approaching, so she leans forward and releases. Down and down she falls. Her body makes sickening contact with earth. And up her soul floats, a radiant prism of green and blue, to the heavens. A maiden’s freedom, born from tragedy.
