Samples of work by Ally Stoyel
The snow covered, faded mountains peek through the smoky fog. The grey shapeless clouds bear down on the misty mountain top. The silver merciless, never-ending water sits still, beckoning. The white trees litter the hidden ground. The wintry wind glistens with slivers of ice like diamonds, whipping through the frozen branches. A deafening scream cuts through the consuming black of the night like a knife and then stops sharp and you recognise it as your own.
I never really knew what it was that I wanted in this life. I wandered, unattached to everything around me. A closed book, and I would let no one read my pages for fear that they would become characters in my story. I would let no words escape me so as not to invite people to presume my secrets. We didn’t share the same realities. Theirs was just my dream and I didn’t belong there. I was imprisoned for each cruel day and at night I would withdraw completely, to the euphoric place high in the clouds where they couldn’t touch me. Couldn’t complicate me with their pity and peer in to the depth of me. I felt alive, invincible, peaceful.