by Sarah Stribley

Created on: September 25, 2009   Last Updated: November 12, 2009

Whispers Unfurl

In the room of haunting memories, don't look behind the curtains!, there stands a girl, dressed in ivory. She'll point to the elms below and say "there lies the untold". Her eyes are rung about in gray, she carries with her a book marked "truth", her body's worn by all the war's the world's been through. Flick back the curtains, see the faces staring from them; a satyr watches malevolently, el Greco smiles benignly from one fold, while Botticelli's Venus rises from the shadows. Even the walls hold memories; pent-up cries that echo when you tap the yellowed wallpaper, fingers touch from the other side, and whispers unfurl from the floral print. I once went to the window and drew back those curtains. 'Who', was on my mind. The girl put one finger to my lips and hushed my thoughts. "I am Fate" she said. And the walls agreed.

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