The little girl in the secret chamber

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a beautiful land of great diversity. She was given lots of freedom to explore. She could go to the forest, go to the village, go anywhere she wanted. She could climb trees, hide in burrows, do anything she wanted. So, she was happy.

But slowly, the confines of her world became smaller. She didn't even notice it at first. But gradually, she started to notice how there was less forest to explore, less village to frolic in, less people to talk to. It discomfited her vaguely, but she didn't think much of it.

Then one day, she noticed she could not even unlock the door of her room, the grandest room at the top of the highest tower of that most-beautiful palace. She tried, and tried, but to no avail. She burst into tears, and fell asleep.

She slept for a long time.

She woke up to find herself in a small, dark prison. No light could enter, naught but a mere ray of weak light through a slit in the wall.

At first, she thought she was imagining it all, and pinched herself. Then, she thought her eyes were deceiving her, and rubbed them. But nothing changed.

She got up to explore the place, and fumbling, began to feel her way around. She discovered that it was furnished exactly the same as her old room, the one in the high tower.

The only difference was the Darkness. The way the thick inky blackness of It seemed to press round menacingly, waiting only for just the right chance to eat her. It was a fearsome combination of beasts. In the Darkness, of course she could not see It, but she could feel It. She could sense It.

So she felt Its velvety skin coiling around her like a black cat around at a witch's ankles. She smelt scent of want, of desire. She smelt also a deep loathing. A certain jealousy, even. She tasted fear on her tongue, and although she could not see, she felt as though Its jaws were always opened, about to sever her in two. She felt also, Its cool breath, as chilly as the drafts that occasionally entered the castle. And sometimes, she thought she could even see Its teeth glinting eerily in strange glimmers.

Yes, the little girl was very afraid. At first, She pounded against the heavy door. It felt almost like she was pounding on a wall, it was so stubborn and thick. It didn't rattle like the other doors did.

She was angry, and determined. But most of all, she was scared. So she screamed and shouted. And pounded. And again. Over and over and over, but, she couldn't get out.

She passed the days of her miserable existence in despair. Every so often, she would try to get out. Sometimes, when she pushed with all her might against the door, it seemed as if it moved a bit, once or twice she managed to get it so far ajar that she could slip her hand through, but the door was closed as quickly as she opened it.

She lives there still, deep down in each of our hearts, waiting to get out. Waiting for the iron will of Self-Control to weaken and give in to her, the child we all once were, and pure untamed - emotion.

And when you feel sheer anguish, or joy, you know it's her. For she almost managed to escape from that little room you keep her in.