Topic: The Mausoleum

Pedne

Date: 2007-03-22 04:49 EST
Down on her knees, that were burning from hours on searingly cold unshaven marble, she was in thought. Deep, whorling brigades of mental articulation; to advance, discipline, strategy. One's Own world, or the internal paradigm. Nor her nor her most unreachable parts agreed with theory.

Her reticence for movement was fear. To be discharged for sainthood, after this the "fairyhood" was a nightmare. It would jarr her and shake her from familiarity and a rather stolid self belief.

And so she coerced herself into escape.

"I am excited"

The bowed over woman repeated to herself; with conviction. The sky changed shape and colour as the hours hurried or dawdled. No longer an expansive flat of blue, it looked as if bulged, a mass weighing into fishnets, glugging at the apogee of furious wave crests, or the inhale and exhale of thick summer winds, spilling life and far off heat and strange, unsought smells into ones sheets, taken down from the rope and folded whereby with midnight's caress, held you with their vagrant lullabye.

"I am excited"

A mantra for a very rational fear as she could no more ponder her place in the Great, Wider world than she could reconcile her leaving Home for 'Home' on the impulse of an adolescent season of whimsicle treason. And the sky promised change. New life. New scents.



Slowly, and with deliberate ease, she left the stone nest for the large unfortified places of beyond.