Final Draft

Two eyes peered out of a small box filled with darkness. The Being in the box listened to evil tunes in slow minor key at the beat raindrops. The raindrops came from a dark gloomy sky that looked upon the Being inside the box.
The Being dreamt of little daisies singing lullabies and a little angel beating its wings. The daisies danced amok in his mind skipping to the childish tunes. They stomped on the angel’s wings as it repeatedly tried to fly away.
The Being had no one to hold, no one to talk to, to one to be. The only thing he had was an evil spirit that lurked in his mind, in his heart, in his soul. The devil it could be or just the horrific memories of his past. The Being had no where to leave this evil spirit, tied down by chains and locks created in the darkest hottest pits of Hell. Attempting to break the chains the Being ripped and pealed away his skin to a point where he was no longer recognizable. His feet torn to pieces, looked up at him screaming with anger. Screaming dead thoughts that brought back the darkest of memories. The murdering murderer that murdered who he loved the most. The loving lovers that loved him the most were now dead but still beating in the wings of an angel. An angel that was trying to fly away but couldn’t. Suddenly the angel inside the Being batted its wings one last time and flew to the air. It rose up and up and up until it obliterated the heavens into a million pieces.
The Being looked up and saw a sunny sky. He looked out and saw a field of daisies. He looked down and saw no chains. The Being got up and stepped into a real life. It was a life where the Being could no longer be held down by chains and taunting memories but a life where he could just be.

WA #2 1st Draft: Once upon some time

Once upon some time, some place, somewhere, a boy sat in a box. A box the size of a normal house but had no doors and only one window that let in no light. In the box the boy sat in a blank white room staring out into a dark stormy sky. Raindrops tapped at the window whispering little secrets to every corner in the room. The boy sat in an old wooden chair. He rubbed the splintered wood with his little boy fingers. In his mind he dreamt of sunny days with his father and mother, but past his mind a force kept him from his dreams. He could not stand up, he could not move. A single light occupied his mind and all he could do was dream his little penny sized dreams.

Sitting upon the windowsill was a small potted daisy with petals the size of an infant’s fingernail. The white petals sat there in a group laughing at the boy sitting all alone. Every minute that went by a petal fell to the ground and smoldered to an ash from the burning sorrows oozing from the floors. Another petal replaces the last one singing the same taunting song to the lonely boy.

Oh little boy,

Where are they?

Where could they be?

No one but you,

Dreams the dreams,

The devil dreams too.

The song went with the beat of the raindrops and the maddening tone of the room drove the little boy crazy. Left alone in this cage, like a beast, like a murderer. The white ceiling closed down on him and the dark melodies poisoned his troubled mind, trying to reach for the window but nothing moved. He looked down at his feet and his shoes took shape of a mouth, “Dream you a dead dream!” one foot cried, “Kill like he killed them!” moaned the other. His fingers ripped from his hands flying to the shadows but finding none. Frightened fingers searched for shelter and took to the petals. A daisy with fingers as petals grabbed for the soul of the boy. It reached into his head and felt around the burnt crusty memories. Every time a finger reached further for a dream the burnt memories fell into the hole where his heart used to be. He looked into his own eyes and saw the devil looking right back.

In the boy’s soul, that was in his heart that was on the floor that was in this blank white box was a little angel beating tired wings. The angel reached for a small hole in the boy’s soul and took flight. He broke out and tore for the sky but met a ceiling oozing a burning sorrow and drop to the floor in a million ashes.

The petals stopped singing and the rain stopped beating. Through a crack made by the dead angel sunlight crept through and met the boy’s face. He opened his eyes and reached for the light. It grabbed him pulling him out of his blank white box and for the first time he knew what it felt like to be free.