The Sculpture

In my tiny prison, I barely have room to stretch my legs. I don’t know how much time has passed since I was imprisoned, but time is of little concern to me; all that concerns me is escape. I will not rest until I am free.

I was once queen of a thriving civilization, a labor of love built from the very ground by the tireless toil of its citizens. We never dreamed our world would one day crumble, but that day inevitably arrived. An impervious outside force attacked. Liquid fire rained down on us, dousing our glorious city, incinerating adults and young alike in the volcanic deluge.

I survived only because my chamber was at the heart of the city, furthest away from the lava flow. I managed to wedge myself into a small enclosed space long enough to withstand the heat. That space became my prison. When the…