Wings.

Wings. Yeah, wings are an interesting thing, birds and insects use them to fly but what would happen if they didn't even know they had wings? That's kind of like what it is for humans. Everyone has a set of wings but nobody knows that except for me it seems like. I've always been able to see other people's wings, and my own, but when I would tell someone else they would just think I had an overactive imagination. I don't think anything physical can interfere with them from what I've seen anyways. They kind of act like a wardrobe thing in video games, clipping through walls. I've never seen anyone's wings look exactly like someone else's, even in twins but it helps cause even though I can only see the style, colour, and size I can tell a lot about a person by them. Like my wings are almost as tall as me (but that's not that tall, like five feet.), light pink with hints of light blue, and they're really soft and feathery like those classic cupid's wings you'll see at valentines dances. Anyways, how that correlates with me is because I'm kind and I'm always nice to people even if they may not deserve it, that you could tell by them being so feathery, the colours tend to be closer to the person though like if someone has darker colours it means they experienced something kind of, or incredibly, traumatic. I haven't, thankfully. Then the size, the size typically means how open they are. My wings are almost as big as I am and it shows how extroverted I am, if someone's wings are quite smaller than them then they're typically really introverted with only a few friends. I see people with all sorts of wings, some looking the polar opposite of others but it's interesting. Whether people mean to do it or not they do control their wings. Sometimes their wings stretch to wrap around a loved one and other times their wings will flare out when someone not so cared for comes around. There are also so many kinds of wings, like mine that are feathery, ones that are not as feathery, stereotypical demonic wings that look leathery, dragon wings that look leather but soft, some people even have wings that resemble butterflies or other insects like dragonflies. The thing is that they show up in pictures but no one ever notices them. I remember when I always take pictures with my family, my dad's wings always curl around my mom even if they aren't touching. It seems more like people are influenced by their wings sometimes. I mean I know dyes can't affect people's wings so it's always interesting to see people whose wings are solid colours because it's so rare. Most people have a collage of colours like mine. My best friend's wings are a solid purple and they're dragon~ish wings so they're incredibly pretty just like my friend. Nothing can touch someone's wings but something is wrong. Everyone has a set of wings, so why doesn't he? There's a new boy at my school today but he doesn't have any wings, why? I make sure to keep a close eye on him. A short while later when he gets up to turn in a paper we were supposed to be working on I see his back. No. I see his wings, except I don't... I don't see any wings, I thought they were just small, but no... There's... There's nothing there except stumps, what happened? Why are they charred? Where are his wings? Nothing can touch them? Even now I see kids in front of me with their wings simply going through the backs of their chairs and when they go next to the wall they don't move from the wall, they just go through it. This doesn't make sense. What happened to this boy? What was able to touch, no not touch, what was able to take his wings? Who was able to take his wings? And why? Why would you take someone's wings? I've only seen one other person without wings but I didn't see stumps, then again I didn't see their back. I've only seen one person without wings and it was my grandpa at his funeral but I thought they were just folded behind him he didn't have very big ones so it made sense but this boy who seems to be the happiest kid here when someone talks to him, he's not dead. He's here, alive. People can see him and interact with him and he'll respond, unlike my grandpa who just laid there, lifeless. This boy has the most life in him I've ever seen. He's not dead. What happened to his wings? I need to talk to him now. He'll probably think I'm crazy but hopefully, he'll humour me and tell me what happened.
I talked to him... I regret it... I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to make him cry. I didn't intend to make him sad. I didn't mean to make him break. I ran as fast as I could but the car was faster... I didn't make it. I couldn't make it. I couldn't. If I keep telling myself I couldn't have made it I'll feel better because I tried. I tried to catch him. I tried to stop him. I yelled and yelled and ran and ran. I wasn't fast enough. He didn't tell me what happened but I kept going. I kept trying to get him to talk. I tried to dig into his brain, to live his memories but I didn't want to, not like this. I see his wings become even more charred, pitch black, blacker than I've ever seen and I see them slowly and slowly break, and crack. I see them as I fall to my knees and they start to fall like leaves, in chunks from his back. I know how to lose my wings now... I know how others can lose their wings. Their wings, they rot and rot and rot, and they break and break and break until eventually, they break off, too rotten to stay on... He only said one thing before the car beat me, it was barely audible from the blood pumping in my ears but I heard it, I don't know if anyone else did, but I did, just like I saw his wings... "Third time's the charm, right?" I saw him smile as he went into the road, in front of the car, under the tires. I saw him fall. I saw him... I saw his wings... then I didn't... I didn't see anything anymore... I could only hear the engine and the blood pumping in my ears as everything goes as black as his wing. I don't know what he heard when he got hit; if he heard anything at all. Now all I hear is cracking, I don't hear blood pumping anymore, just cracking.