1998-06-22 - 7:00 p.m.
In the darkness of an attic,
A young girl waits.
She stands, stares,
Her dark eyes roaming,
Searching for something.
She sighs to herself.
Her heart is empty,
Darkness and nothing more.
Her throat is hoarse,
Her hands are dry.
She's been in solitary,
For too long.
She's lost,
Alone and forgotten.
Yet she doesn't fidget,
Doesn't weep,
Doesn't blink.
She begins to sing a song.
She raises her head,
Her thin face suddenly bright,
In the eerie moonlight,
Falling into the room.
The sound grows louder,
Slowly but steadily.
It fills the air,
Soft and clear.
Its smooth, wavy sounds fly freely,
As the girl's arms begin to rise.
Louder and clearer,
Higher and mightier.
The song is strong and firm,
Yet gentle and deep.
Her large eyes shimmer,
Like a fire ignited.
She sings, sings for herself,
And only herself.
The girl's hands reach out
Her voice grows louder, richer,
It blossoms into the room,
Ignoring the cold, the darkness,
Louder, louder, and then,
Stop.
The music stops.
Time hangs still for a moment,
And then she lowers her head.
She closes her eyes slowly,
Taking a deep breath,
And exhaling.
The young girl sighs,
Sits down on the wooden floor,
And leans against the wall
With the gentle,
Soothing sound of music floating in the air,
She falls asleep.
