This week we are asked to use Mozart’s ‘Queen of the Night’s ‘aria from “The Magic Flute” as the basis for a piece of writing.
The girl looked up from her screen
She’d written another thousand words
Once again tears streamed down her face.
She was, as always, writing about suffering
Her suffering
Her pain
Her lose of dignity
The theft of her childhood
The annihilation of her self.
The cause was too great to give up on
There were others out there she knew
Like her, tormented by their pasts,
Hanging onto to her words
As they drew strength and courage
To the revelations they would make
About pasts wracked with traumas
Leaving them shells of what might have been.
Across an ocean far far away
A boy looked up from his screen
What he read triggered the worst of thoughts
Accusations of inadequacies‘You’re no good, no use, buy a cat.’
He wanted to sink back into the hole he lived in
Where it was safe and where no one saw him.
But out there he knew was hope.
The girl wrote more, she needed to get her story out
Away from the shadows of her past,
Awaiting that cathartic moment of cleansing.
Despite her flaws she too had hope.
One of her mysteries in life was love
How could someone as damaged and unworthy as she
Be the source of another’s affection.
Was it a trick she asked herself?
Is this just fantasy?
To every turn, she made to distance herself
Secure every exit, slam every window
But the door to her heart remained ajar,
Awakened from enforced hibernation
One she thought permanent
It leapt at the possibility of feeling again.
The boy reflected and thought it’s impossible
I am so flawed, so damaged, so ruined
Yet there is hope where there should be none.
He cried as he contemplated his present place
Could she love him regardless of such a grotesque blemish?
Where others had scorned him
Ridiculed his version of love
She reached out, held his hand
Took him to her breast and held him tight.
Tremble not she called to him
We have both suffered the outrageous
Our innocence shattered
Our hopes dashed.
Our awakening is frightening
Stirred are long forgotten urges
Ready to be set free
Ready to be set free.
Morpethroad 
Emotional writing Michael wow I could relate very much to this piece
Thanks so much Yves, I’m glad you could relate to this.
Reblogged this on Bohemian Nerd and commented:
Immediately I felt right there in the moment–one artist reaching out the only way one can in search of community. Amazing 🙂
Thank you so much, it was a challenge as it should be, so thanks for this prompt. Also I greatly appreciate the re blog.
Anytime 🙂
WowWowWow, Michael–so beautiful, moving, and yes, so relate-able. Very nicely penned.
Thank you so much Val, as always i appreciate you reading and your comment.
I’m happy to do so, always. I kinda want to reblog this one too–but mustn’t show favoritism 🙂 Oh well, what the hay? Maybe late tonight/wee hours…
Thanks Val, I did enjoy this one too…..
That’s a good feeling, when we enjoy what we’ve written.
There certainly is….
🙂
This is a made-for-the-big-screen kind of story (a box of Kleenex required), but at the same time feels very present, real. I so want to know the end of this story, Michael.
Thank you Mandy, I guess you’ll have to stay tuned…..though like so much in life its more a work in progress.
Reblogged this on WEALTH of RUINS and commented:
Once again I feature a piece by Michael–his compassionate heart makes me want to weep.
This is truly beautiful and hopeful, Michael. You took on the voice we can hear if s young girl. Writing is cathartic indeed. Well done!!
Thank you Oliana, so pleased you enjoyed this one.
Well written.
Thank you so much Kim.
Though love conquers all seems trite, as you suggest, it can across miles, lifetimes, experiences, flaws, and pasts. The internet allows such relationships to form which gives a modern feel to an age old saying.
A wonderful piece of writing showing there is hope, there can be love.
Thank you friend, hope is always there….nothing is impossible.