The Mind Creative March 2014
She sat with her head thrown back upon
the cushion of the chair, quite motionless,
except when a sob came up into her
throat and shook her, as a child who has
cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its
dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face,
whose lines bespoke repression and even
a certain strength. But now there was a
dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was
fixed away off yonder on one of those
patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of
reflection, but rather indicated a
suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and
she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was
it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she
felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the
sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to
recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she
was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two
white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself
a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it
over and over under the breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare
and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They
stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood
warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that
held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the
suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when
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