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Saturday, November 4, 2017

Rebel



     The heart of a young girl, one on the brink of flying is a wild thing, a frothy cyclone swirling on the edge of magnificence, her power un-leashed and un-contained. There is joy, rage, despair, exuberance; along with non-conflicted choice. Tastes are claimed and tossed with equal abandon for reasons that make sense to no one but the cyclone. If a bear trap snaps on the neck of this wild thing, it will thrash until the connection between mind and heart is severed, leaving emotional knowing impossible.

      An ancient bear trap springs open in the Great Sea of Nothing, rust flakes lay scattered across a gaping wound, as nerve endings stutter-flutter for
reattachment. The wild thing does not move, unsure if the hunter is nearby or can sense motion. Inside, her cyclone is restrained, having been pinned for a very long time. The wild thing hears one word through the ocean sound of nothing.

Rebel.

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