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P. 1
Isolation

Isolation

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Published by EvangelineCoffin
A raven flies in front of the moon and a lonely, wan woman sees it, and in her desperation, follows it.
A raven flies in front of the moon and a lonely, wan woman sees it, and in her desperation, follows it.

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Published by: EvangelineCoffin on Jun 26, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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07/02/2011

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A sliver in the sky perched high aboveand a shadow moves acrossas fleeting as a dove.Only the shape wasn't so graceful--so light;rather, it was ragged andblack as night.I looked up from my tower solong-fortified at the moonand despaired to knowthat it was by myown design--that I was shut up inside.That the ivy on the outside,with the thorns,grew up and between the bricksat my own command.What was the prison for?What had I constructed it for?Damned if I knew the answers.Opera music streamed through the night towards me,and a male voice so lovely as the nightberated my ears with its sounds both dark--and light.Both damned and redeemed,echoing in one.Its shrill call rose up from the gloomy fens,and came over the moorbut I had lost track of the local townso many years before.When had I come here?Why, and what for?Damned if I knew the answers, anymore.The constellations and the stars up in the sky,all twinkling and blinking as theyregarded me so sly.A twinkle here and another there--just what were they scheming forso way up there?Another lonely nightwith nothing to do but survey the skyand wish for anything--even for answers why.But the wine was tasteless and the color of blood,and the air was chilled,then, the voice was gone.Too late, it seemed,to find the man who had producedsuch lovely harmonies.I closed the curtains andwent to bed,counting on waking when the sun
 
would rise.But as sad as I seemed the chillwas much worse;I tossed and I turned through the courseof the night.And when I awoke the moon was at the zenith--and yet another shadow,another ragged bird flew across theblinding white.So much I wished to know--about that bird, to-night of all nights.What was there for me to do?I had no answers, not a clue.Damned if I even knew what to do.Lifting my long skirts,I decided to climb outside,and see if I could find that birdwhose plumage was as oilyas the night.To see if I could find that voicewhich had ceased.Tip-toeing through the woods,and the forests as they sprangup from the cracks in the groundand trees so heavy that the groundhad begun to sag.I went through the marsh and thefens to find the voice,not noticing all how thedarkness sprang to life.At last there was a clearing where themoonlight beat down--on a circular patch in araised part of the dried ground.And in that patch of moonlight,perched the ruffled bird as it watchedand stared at me,quite so intently.I approached with a hand out beforea fog concealed all from my eyes--and then the bird clearedfrom itself before my eyes.It was no bird but a man,standing before me now.And I merely stared at him,curious at how--he had appeared before me.And so I circled him,inspecting,confused at how he had appearedin the night,when he merely watched me all the while

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