The Window

Short story. A girl is mysteriously trapped in a dungeon with one window, and through it she sees paradise.

Paradise. Surrounding my little prison is what can only be described as paradise. The willow trees are yellow and golden, and the grass is still green although autumn has begun. Skies are blue, with wisps of cloud who blush with a hint of sunset. A soft breeze touches the trees, and they bend, trying to follow the free wind but still bound by their roots anchored to the earth.

         I see all this from my window, which separates me from the paradise just outside, taunting me though I know I will never touch that grass or follow that wind. My pale skin yearns for the touch of sunlight after the years it has spent locked away in this cold stone fortress. I only have an hour a day by this window, always longing for more. Then, I’m back in my room, treated with rough hands and angry words.

         This is my life.

         NO. I can do something. I must, or else I know I will wither into an empty shell, and succumb to this hopelessness.

         The window.

         I know that when I’m there, I am heavily guarded. But if I could just have a moment in the grass, just a moment to feel the wind, it would be worth any punishment. I know I am not as strong as I once was, but the glass doesn’t seem to be that thick. It could easily be shattered with a stone or other heavy object.

         I come to a conclusion. I will do it. I will be free, if just for a moment. Then, I might last a while longer.

         Soon I am back at the window, with a brick I pried from the fireplace hidden under my shirt. No one has noticed because I am quite docile and they do not think that I am capable of escape. They are wrong. When I am focused on something, it happens.

         The guard has turned to lock the door. I raise my hand and hurl the brick at the window with all the strength I have. As I assumed, it shatters, leaving a gaping hole where my window once stood. I feel the slightest remorse for my friend, who had shown me that hope was just a brick-throw away, but I had no time to hesitate. I jump out the window, which is thankfully no more than six feet high. As I fall, a gust of wind flows through my hair and clears my senses. My feet touch down softly and I feel the grass between my toes. Tiny daises form a ring around me, speckling the ground with their forgotten beauty.

         Suddenly, a gunshot rings out.

          I stumble. Pain shoots through my body from the wound, right in my back. I’m not scared though, as I thought I might be. I embrace the pain, knowing that it will soon be over and I can stay in my field and run with the wind. I fall to the earth. As I lay there, my fingers close around soft blades of grass. A gentle wind caresses my body, comforting me. I close my eyes.

         I was right. This really is paradise.

The End

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