That Which Is Hidden

November 23, 2011
By fireeyedgirl SILVER, Dulles, Virginia
fireeyedgirl SILVER, Dulles, Virginia
7 articles 0 photos 23 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I think that most of us, anyway, read these stories that we know are not "true" because we're hungry for another kind of truth: the mythic truth about human nature in general, the particular truth about those life-communities that define our own identity, and the most specific truth of all: our own self-story. Fiction, because it is not about someone who lived in the real world, always has the possibility of being about oneself. "
— Orson Scott Card


Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
Deep beneath her freckled skin, it beats a tattoo against her chest.
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
Pounding on her breast bone, her ribs, yearning for freedom—release. Confined within its ivory prison, it hammers on the bars. “Let me out!” It screams, but all that comes out is:
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
“Please, just let me go!”
Thump-Thump.
“Set me free!”
Thump-Thump.
The sound reverberating though her body, pulsing.
In her throat: Thump-Thump.
In her wrists: Thump-Thump.
In her thighs: Thump-Thump.
Screaming for freedom, the sound echoing through every organ, every muscle, until every atom of her being takes up the call. A never ending refrain demanding liberation. A revolution of the heart.
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.


The author's comments:
Just something I wrote in my theatre class. Please review, it's insane how happy it makes me.

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