Today I’ve been considering expanding my horizons. I want something more, need something more because I am worthy of it. Will I ever actually get out of this hole, this cavernous ravine of darkness thats all encompassing? Rise out of it like a phoenix from the bitter ashes? And grow like the gnarled weed in the castle wall, persistent and unwanted, through all the hatred and weathering yet still remains. You think that I’m insane, no? Will you believe my story if I tell you it in tongues? Know that I am merely me, my friend.

When I was just a girl, I was the daughter of a seamstress. The needles poked and bled me, my innocent skin torn and broken. Stars were the light of which lit our work, just enough to see, not to be seen. Go along the shops with a little bag, my mother told me, and when they turn their heads, grab the fabric from their baskets. Out, they would yell if I were caught, but I was smart. They could never catch me, I was sly and slight. Watch while you work, my dear child, my mother lamented, for if we are found, we will find a life worse than death. Us people, we’re not like them. With our sight and our minds, they fear us and what we are. Closed minds and closed eyes cannot comprehend anything at all. Eyes open will still only see what they want to see if minds are closed.

For the starlight that guided our work one day went out. Our clothes made from stolen fabric drew unwanted attention. Time stood still as they rose over the hill towards our cave from which we worked and lived in. Had a buyer noticed their own stolen fabric on a garment they had bought from the local recluse and her daughter? Come over here, my mother said, we must go into the night.

She dragged me into the forest, with nothing but the clothes on our back and a lamp. Ended was our life of sewing clothes, torn from our cave and our source of income and food. My mother and I fled far and fast, but they tracked us with their dogs. Life that we had lived in that cave, upon seeing it, they became scared. In their eyes, we were witches, evil women who wished harm on innocents. That we were just poor seamstresses never crossed their minds. Forest life was not easy nor safe. With the harsh elements and the pursuers, we lived in fear. Fire from their bows drew close, but my mother protected me.

Now that you have listened to my story, you have helped me. I thank you for reading this carefully. Am I and my mother okay? Alive? Thanks for asking. To be honest, it’s not been easy. Mother has always done all she can for me.

Thank you for reading, and setting me free. You might want to reread the first words of each sentence, just to make sure you didn’t miss anything out with those closed eyes of yours.