It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

N/A · 10-15-2013, 02:41 AM

The sun had left this portion of the land, abandoning it as it always did and leaving the sky in a state that she?d come to adore. The hues were at their best during such times when the afternoon had waned and the sun too had decided to sleep beyond the horizon. The canvas that was the sky was as regal as she, no longer its intense glowering shower of golden rays and orange stripes, mingled shades of violet that denominated the crimson tones of the drifting clouds once pristine and white. No, the world had taken a new view ? better and much more appealing to the eye.

The heavens had begun their nightly transition once again, changing from its vivid sunset array to a more subtle ripple of azure and yellow and violet. The three tones that seemed so very unlikely together combined to create a phenomenal partnership. The indigo sliding to navy then cobalt and suddenly the sun was determined to stave off the nights conquering lights and the horizon shimmered with its dying embers of yellow. It as was beautiful as it was fleeting.

And watching the coils of night creep closer was the little rogue female, Ophelia, seated upon a mound of dirt and stone. Her stare was the quiet and tranquil as she bayed goodbye to the sun and welcomed the moon thorugh the gaps in the branches above her head. The boughs that had lost their leafy coverings now lay bare for winter, stretched toward the heavens, millions of black, tapered fingers hungrily eating the last rays, rattling gratingly as the winds hissed at them for silence.

The white vixen yawned as her gaze drew itself downward, listlessly examining the cliff edge where she was perched. She was tired. It had been quite some time since she could say in all honesty that she had slept well. There were simply too many concerns for the comforts of unconsciousness to keep at bay and it was gradually sapping her of her strength.

From her vantage point she pondered mutely whether or not she should delve further into the abyss. So much of her life had been out of her control that the need to make a choice, a drastic choice, any choice, was burning in her chest like a sickness with no remedy. There were things she wanted, desired, wished for, things so far out of her reach they may as well have been stars in the sky for all the good it did her. But she wanted them all the same. Freedom from her duty.

Freedom from the labels. Freedom from the cramped little box she called herself.

Speech,

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