Post by Sensiblyquirky on Feb 9, 2005 14:43:44 GMT -5
A flood of memory washes over me, a lonely girl betrayed and battered, contrives affection from a doll she cradles so thinking it will be the only love she’ll ever know.
Minerva looked up from the words she had just written and surveyed her surroundings, a habit when she needed to think. The apartment was old, and there were cracks everywhere. The sparse furniture did nothing to hide its condition, and Minerva glanced around to the clock on the wall noticing it was almost four o’clock. Putting her pen down she moved to dress for work, and pray to the heavens that it would pass quickly.
Minerva moved around the crowded bar room longing for an escape. The men were especially rowdy that night, and she had to keep on her toes to make sure she dodged their wandering hands. The owner of the establishment ignored her complaints and repeatedly threatened to fire her, but she needed the money to get her through the rest of school.
Having lost her parents during the war Minerva had to support herself through University, and one day she hoped to become a Professor or a top Auror. She wasn’t sure which, having promised herself to take one day at a time. Thinking all this at two as she climbed the stairs to her apartment Minerva never saw the man coming down.
“Hey, watch it!” the man cried pushing her aside into the opposite wall.
“Sorry,” Minerva mumbled straightening up and getting as quickly to her apartment as possible. Before collapsing into bed Minerva pulled out that piece of parchment and pen from before and added:
Her spirit is in pieces, her heart is broken at the seams, she craves one drop of kindness, but all she has are shattered dreams, she curses the injustice and begs to know the reason why she suffers in this prison and all she wants to do is fly
Six months later Minerva had graduated with top grades in Transfiguration, and was standing looking out of her window as the stars shown bright above the city she had called home for the past three years. Sighing she leaned her head against the window frame, and then reached once again for her parchment.
‘Fly, fly where? Where do I want to go,’ she asked herself softly out loud. Once again lifting her eyes to stare out of the window the words hit her quick and hard, so grabbing her pen she furiously wrote,
Over mountains over oceans how her restless stirs, for she longs for her liberty…when will liberty be hers?
Reading the words again she frowned when she realized it wouldn’t come for awhile. Having been offered the chance to further study Transfiguration Minerva had jumped at the chance having decided to focus her energies on a possible professorship. Crossing the room to her chair she carefully picked up and old and tattered book, smiling she caressed the pages before returning to the task of re-reading it.
‘Two more years,’ Minerva mumbled as she re-entered her apartment only to stop in the door way her eyes widening at the sight. The window she so loved to look out of was broken, and the few pieces of furniture were turned over. Her books and parchments were strewn all over the floor, and Minerva quickly dropped to her knees searching for the one that mattered most to her.
Crying she searched till she found it in perfect condition under her small bed. Holding it close to her heart Minerva began to examine her room only to find nothing had been taken. Though glad she sadly laughed, ‘I have nothing of value for which anyone can take.’ Her laughter continued until Minerva was sobbing on her floor. Choking back the rest of her tears Minerva’s hand shook as she reached for her pen.
Her life is not at value, poverty secures her fate, condemned to be a woman, barely fit to educate, she swallows her rebellion but there’s a storm within her breast she tries to quell the downpour but cannot contain her soul’s unrest…
On that floor Minerva made a vow to no one but herself and the heavens that after these two years she was going away. She was going to travel the world, and she was going to get that Professorship and then it would all be better. Surely this was the worst life had to offer her.
Exactly two years later Minerva’s possessions, few they were, were packed and shrunk to fit inside her robes. Having saved her money wisely, and having more than she expected since Minerva had be awarded a small scholarship, Minerva was ready to take off. Standing at her window she lifted it open, and climbed out on the ledge. Gripping her broom she flew out over the city, thinking of the last words she had written down:
And the lighting strikes inside her and she looks to the sky and she pledges to spread her wings through a hurricane she’ll fly over mountains over oceans how her restless stirs, for she longs for her liberty when will liberty be hers?
Minerva looked up from the words she had just written and surveyed her surroundings, a habit when she needed to think. The apartment was old, and there were cracks everywhere. The sparse furniture did nothing to hide its condition, and Minerva glanced around to the clock on the wall noticing it was almost four o’clock. Putting her pen down she moved to dress for work, and pray to the heavens that it would pass quickly.
Minerva moved around the crowded bar room longing for an escape. The men were especially rowdy that night, and she had to keep on her toes to make sure she dodged their wandering hands. The owner of the establishment ignored her complaints and repeatedly threatened to fire her, but she needed the money to get her through the rest of school.
Having lost her parents during the war Minerva had to support herself through University, and one day she hoped to become a Professor or a top Auror. She wasn’t sure which, having promised herself to take one day at a time. Thinking all this at two as she climbed the stairs to her apartment Minerva never saw the man coming down.
“Hey, watch it!” the man cried pushing her aside into the opposite wall.
“Sorry,” Minerva mumbled straightening up and getting as quickly to her apartment as possible. Before collapsing into bed Minerva pulled out that piece of parchment and pen from before and added:
Her spirit is in pieces, her heart is broken at the seams, she craves one drop of kindness, but all she has are shattered dreams, she curses the injustice and begs to know the reason why she suffers in this prison and all she wants to do is fly
Six months later Minerva had graduated with top grades in Transfiguration, and was standing looking out of her window as the stars shown bright above the city she had called home for the past three years. Sighing she leaned her head against the window frame, and then reached once again for her parchment.
‘Fly, fly where? Where do I want to go,’ she asked herself softly out loud. Once again lifting her eyes to stare out of the window the words hit her quick and hard, so grabbing her pen she furiously wrote,
Over mountains over oceans how her restless stirs, for she longs for her liberty…when will liberty be hers?
Reading the words again she frowned when she realized it wouldn’t come for awhile. Having been offered the chance to further study Transfiguration Minerva had jumped at the chance having decided to focus her energies on a possible professorship. Crossing the room to her chair she carefully picked up and old and tattered book, smiling she caressed the pages before returning to the task of re-reading it.
‘Two more years,’ Minerva mumbled as she re-entered her apartment only to stop in the door way her eyes widening at the sight. The window she so loved to look out of was broken, and the few pieces of furniture were turned over. Her books and parchments were strewn all over the floor, and Minerva quickly dropped to her knees searching for the one that mattered most to her.
Crying she searched till she found it in perfect condition under her small bed. Holding it close to her heart Minerva began to examine her room only to find nothing had been taken. Though glad she sadly laughed, ‘I have nothing of value for which anyone can take.’ Her laughter continued until Minerva was sobbing on her floor. Choking back the rest of her tears Minerva’s hand shook as she reached for her pen.
Her life is not at value, poverty secures her fate, condemned to be a woman, barely fit to educate, she swallows her rebellion but there’s a storm within her breast she tries to quell the downpour but cannot contain her soul’s unrest…
On that floor Minerva made a vow to no one but herself and the heavens that after these two years she was going away. She was going to travel the world, and she was going to get that Professorship and then it would all be better. Surely this was the worst life had to offer her.
Exactly two years later Minerva’s possessions, few they were, were packed and shrunk to fit inside her robes. Having saved her money wisely, and having more than she expected since Minerva had be awarded a small scholarship, Minerva was ready to take off. Standing at her window she lifted it open, and climbed out on the ledge. Gripping her broom she flew out over the city, thinking of the last words she had written down:
And the lighting strikes inside her and she looks to the sky and she pledges to spread her wings through a hurricane she’ll fly over mountains over oceans how her restless stirs, for she longs for her liberty when will liberty be hers?
. Does anyone have any of these songs on her computer, btw, would love to hear them ;D.
