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Why Will You Not Let Me Out?

Let me out! Oh, for the love of my maker, let me out!

It is her constant refrain. When he appears she cries it to him, but he never heeds her. He speaks gently, and softly, and in another language. He has never hurt her, not even the day he brought her here, but he will not let her out. Their languages are different but still - when she throws herself against the walls of her confinement, he must know that her desire, her yearning, is to leave.

Let me out!

She throws herself against the wall, and for her efforts bloodies herself. He comes to her, clucking his disapproval. He takes a hold of her - she in terror lashing out - and though she fights him, he is so much the stronger and she cannot hold him at bay.

Let me go! I am afraid!

He holds her fast with those strong hands, and she gives up the fight. Will he kill her? Has she displeased him? No - he bandages the damage she has done to herself, releases her, and leaves.

You have healed my wound, but will you not let me out?

He comes again more often, with his soft sounds and smiles. She no longer cries out when he is gone, and now, awaits his arrival. Still, she mourns to him, when daily he arrives to bring her food and water.

You feed me, why will you not let me out?

She cannot tell the length of her confinement. She has lost track of the rising and setting of the sun, of the phases of the moon, of the changes of the seasons. Now he comes to her not only to feed her, but to speak in that low language she does not understand.

Please! Let me out!

He sits by her on sunny afternoons and sings to her. He marks every morning and every evening with a greeting in his strange language. She calls out her recognition, greets him with a song to match his own, but still, she asks.

Why will you not let me out?

He never used to touch her, except to fix a wound. Now he comes to her with his rough hands gentled, offering a stroke. She will sit against him, now, allowing and reveling in the pleasure of his touch. But still-

You care for me, why will you not let me out?

The seasons pass, and her refrain dims. She will not be let out and he will never answer her, except with that low tone of his. Does she still ask? No. There is no point. She remembers her desire to be let out, and it feels foolish. Her home is here. Her life is here. He is here.

You love me. That is why you will not let me out.

She can no longer see. She can no longer hear. The world is dim, but still, he is there. One day she falls and cannot rise, and it is then that she feels herself lifted but strong hands, and cradled to a firm breast. His heart beats against hers, so slow to her wild, wild pace.

Please. Please. Do not let me out.

He kisses her, and she is gone.

************

Under the tree in his yard, the man buries a little body. He weeps as he lays her to rest, for no more will she greet him with a song. He remembers when he found her - bright-eyed and sweet-voiced.

To catch her had been easy; to keep her had been harder. She had been so wild and so afraid, but in time he had earned the trust he had so wanted. In the end, she had died in his hand, blessing him with her last moments.

"There," he says to her, as he blankets that little body in rich earth. "Now I have let you out."

As he turns away, a flock of her kind wheels in the sky above.