Shatter Me

Shatter Me

Wednesday -- Friday, July 16th – 18th, 2014

“I pirouette in the dark,

I see the stars through me.

Tired mechanical heart,

Beats 'til the song disappears.”

Section 1.

The key is turned, the music box set back down. The music breaks the silence, the sound of a violin filling up the gaps left behind. On top of the glossy, rectangular box, there is a glass sphere, empty except for the girl. The music brings her alive, and she begins to dance. Her lissome pose changes as she twists around and around, and her speed increases slightly with every completed spin.

Her rose-colored dress hangs down to her knees; her hair is twisted up into a tight bun, held in place with a mother-of-pearl clip. A smile is on her face, and her step is merry, yet she is weary. Her mechanical heart beats, but when the music stops she is once again frozen by emotion, or lack of. She does not feel. She does not care . . . She is cold, a frozen mind within a porcelain shell. Her emotions are only shallow, not deep enough to truly have any significance.

What is beyond her abode? She dreams of the outside world, but knows she will never see it for herself.  And what of the stars? Oh, the stars! She has stars within her soul, sparkling vibrantly, but she hopes to one day touch the stars in the sky, see their wintry beauty up close. She knows is too held down to ever even try to see them, but it is entertaining to imagine.

As she dips and pirouettes, her mind is aflame with song. She sings to herself, words she longs to hear. Her voice may crack and falter, but the words will always remain. Words fade, yes, but not the meaning and actions behind them.

“If only the clockwork could speak,

I wouldn't be so alone.

We'd burn every magnet and spring

And spiral into the unknown.”

Section 2.

The girl no longer sleeps. Her subconscious, which has always been haunted by nightmares, shies away from light. It is veritably impossible for her to fall into a slumber.

She is exhausted, bored with her existence. Depressed, she is alone and left to her thoughts, which are steadily growing unhappier. She does not miss being surrounded by others. She used to have other china figures to talk to, but she dislikes others and avoids their presence. Now they are gone, and she tells herself stories to pass every minute, every hour, every day, every week. She is by herself, but definitely not lonely.

The stars in her soul have begun to fade . . .

How can she interrupt it all? Are there any ways left to be discovered? Time must be stopped, she decides.

Her dress has turned grey, consistent with her mindset.

“If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly.

There's no one to catch me if I take a dive.

I'm scared of change, and the days stay the same.

The world is spinning, but only in grey.”

Section 3.

            As she lies on the velvet floor of her glass cage, her eyes alight upon an unknown shape, blurry through the tears covering her face in a thin sheen. She sits up, her breath quick. A blue butterfly, gossamer wings as light as a fairy’s, gracefully rides the air. Hope burns within her chest. She rushes to the glass, her hands pressed against the gently sloping sides, her breath fogging up a small section in front of her face.