EYES BEYOND THE WALL GARY D. HENRY
it was a particularly warm night with a breeze that blew her long hair about her face. She sat the singed box down on the floor of her landing. The high blueish moon enhanced her long white gown, giving its white satin luster a light blue an-gelic hue. The wind lifted a few of the ashen photos from the box and floated to eye level and a sudden gust blasted it into a million pieces. She placed her hands on the railing, looked to the bright full moon and screamed. She bellowed to the lofty heavens, “You’ve taken my parents and destroyed my direction in life. You’ve taken my aunt and uncle and deprived me of their wisdom and you’ve taken Ron and made me fear love. Yet, I’m still here! What more do you want to prove that you are relevant?” The wind gusted and strongly pushed her against the wooden railing and but she continued her rant to the winds of fate. “You’ve taken my freedom and sent me to the blackness of hell, causing me to doubt my existence. You’ve taken my animals to destroy my spirit and took my Katy to destroy my soul… yet I persevered. What else do you want? My life? My birth defied your edict… so take it and let me lay upon the cool grass once more.” Just as she said that, her weight upon the railing caused it to break, sending it sliding off the tall roof and exploding as it impacted the concrete below. With tears in her eyes, she continued with her loud rant. “So sling your destructive arrows and I’ll bare my back and welcome them, but be warned…though one or two may pene-trate my armor…it’s getting thicker and soon they won’t harm me because you’re making me steel! I will persevere until your quiver is bare and I will take charge of my life once more!” She stepped back a few steps away from the broken rail and made her decision. She picked the box of her burned memories and thrust it forward allowing the wind to take them to parts unknown. She‘d given fate everything she had with the exception of her life and though she felt the wind shift to her back, push-ing her to the precipice, she fought back. “No, you will not take my last vestige of hope. I was born into this world to do great things and you’ll not take me until I’ve achieved that end!” She didn’t know, or care, about the ramifications of her defiance as she screamed from her perch. She cared little as to what or who heard her words meant for the heavens nor did she care what came next. Whether or not fate existed as an entity with senses, she made sure it heard her. She challenged it and felt better for it. She hoped her burnt offering that disintegrated in the wind, satisfied its wicked intentions. She only cared that beings, benevolent or not, heard her. Stepping away from the broken railing and fighting the wind that beckoned her to jump, she returned to the elevator.