| |
Once upon a time there was a little girl.
She
lived in a chrome kingdom that was micromanaged by robot lords. The
king was a very particular person who had a closed mind. He used his
robot lords to keep the people of the kingdom from creating art or
anything of beauty, as he feared it could one day incite revolution.
The
girl's name was Pistis Sophia, but most just called her Sophia. Her
parents were quiet revolutionaries who never gave up the idea of
creation and art, so she was named Pistis Sophia, after the Angel of
Creation. It was a fitting name, for she spent most of her time
scratching small designs into the chrome, only to buff it out quickly
when a lord would come by.
Sophia had a hope that one day she
would be able to express her art freely. She grew into a beautiful
woman, and though her parents died, their ideas lived on within her.
She decided one day to appeal to the king to permit even small pieces
of art to be created for private purposes. The king became enraged and
frightened by her thinking, and threw her into the prison. The prison
was not clean like the rest of the kingdom. It was stone, cold, and
filthy. Dirt and grime clung to the walls. Sophia was sad, but then she
discovered a small fragment of metal in the filth.
It was
jagged, unkempt and uneven, but it had a tip to it, which was all she
needed. She began to quietly scratch designs into the stone; intricate,
detailed creations that truly lived up to her name. She drew a small
amount every day for a month; she remained undiscovered because the
only contact she had with anyone was for a guard to fling some food
through a small slot into the dank room every day.
Then
finally, she heard the turning of a key and the echoes of turning cogs
throughout the dungeon. The room was filled with light, and Sophia sat
in the center of her creation. Her murals covered the walls in every
space, flooding the guard's eyes with unimaginable beauty.
And the guard fell to his knees.
And he wept.
The
king heard this noise and came storming into the corridor. His face
red, his shaggy face trembling, he dragged the guard to his feet. As he
opened his mouth to shriek, he turned toward the dungeon. And he fell
silent.
And he fell to his knees.
And he wept.
For it was beautiful.
|
| | Posted 1/20/2008 4:55 PM - 94 Views - 6 eProps - 3 comments
- recommend
  - recs0
- share
- email
 - sent0
|
