Let it go…

Is it intentional?

This irrational fear that gnaws and consumes… Are all writers afflicted? Are we all so desperate to tell our stories, real or imagined, that we will surrender our own daylight for the promise of another being’s sunrise?

It is dark, this place. The affliction personifies; it now writhes and beats against the walls. There are no trapdoors. It is medieval, this place. The body that conforms to the prison within — holed up under the guise of another manifesto.

Hundreds of years later, the castle walls will crumble. You will be found – do not fear. Unable to stand, body disfigured, sentenced to a death within the bricks of despair.

Found, but forgotten.

Unearthed, but unknown.

About S.L. Schmitz

S.L. Schmitz lives in Indian Trail, NC with her husband and son. There is an ever-changing menagerie of cats who graciously allow the family to share the house with them. In addition to reading and writing, she enjoys scrapbooking, drinking martinis, and making snarky comments about a variety of topics. Feel free to email her at thedeadgirl25(at)yahoo(dot)com

Posted on March 29, 2012, in About Me and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. lol – I’m not sure. I keep an archive of pictures I find and use them randomly. I can’t remember where this one came from…

  3. Where did you find that picture?!?

  4. Where did you find that picture!?!

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