The Bare Lonely Soul, by Danny Kemp


She had a certain certainty that set alight the industry, and soon she was proclaimed Queen over all that remained.

She could dance, she could sing, she had an angelic voice. People looked on in compulsion, as if they had no choice.

They waited, they stood, they queued for hours and hours. Just to be in her presence and to feel her powers.

Some wanted to own her then rip her apart, to examine the size and nature of such a pure, unspoiled heart.

But had they looked deep into her light blue eyes, they would have seen her pain and understood why she lived such lies.

She was tired, she was ill, she had nothing left, but she had no desire to leave anyone feeling bereft.

Everyday was just a show she put on as she went along, but in truth she was performing her own death song.

When death finally came it hit hard and fast, but you’re lucky that she left you a legacy that will forever last.

Her name now stands for honesty, strength and resolution in despair.

Is there anyone of you who could empty your soul, whilst alone and so bare?

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.


About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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