‘She Was But A Statue’

Written when I saw the picture used for the cover

She Was But A Statue flashfiction by Dennis LoweryHer hand was frozen in its pull of long hair back from her face. She looked on the setting: a dirty-floored area of cast-off things and bits of rubble and dreck around her.

It’s only temporary, she thought. Someone will find me here. Confident in her curves she was sure, they’ll admire my form and take me home–a perfect adornment for conversation.

Days and weeks passed and she wondered, no one has come and if they don’t how will I be discovered? Who will appreciate me?

She was learning that no matter how beautiful, finely-formed, talented or smart you are… if others don’t know it then nothing happens. But she could not be discovered by herself.

She was but a statue.

Within her range of vision, she watched the old man who had brought her there as he went about adding more forgettable things to what was already forgotten. He piled it around her. There was less and less light and her view diminished. A last box of sagging, wet, cardboard sides already splitting at the corners, completed the stack that closed her in.

As her world grew dim then dark, she thought of how humans could stand up and make things change for themselves.

But she was just a statue.

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