They unfolded, beautiful and powerful and massive. The white feathers ruffled in the breeze and as the wings stretched. They flapped and a rush of air blew against my face.
The pale-skinned boy turned to me and smiled sadly, his eyes seeming to cry without tears, wings still slightly outstretched. He held out his hand, palm down, gently holding something. I carefully put my hand out, right under his, to accept the object he let drop.
A necklace, a thin, golden chain with a small matching ring hanging from it. I looked up at his blue eyes, confused. His eyes seemed permanently about to spill over with tears. He gently took the necklace from me, and used his slim, nimble fingers to place it around my neck, clasping it in place.
He stepped back and flapped his wings again, sending another rush of air. Then he looked up into the morning sun, the light turning his brown eyelashes gold, and back down at me. He smiled gently, soft lips contorted in quiet pain, eyes knowing and tragic, the blue of a coming storm.
His great wings spread wide open. They caught the sunlight. A shadow of wonder swept the land behind him, casting the world in a soft darkness. He turned his face to the sun again, letting himself be bathed in the warmth. Wonder rolled off him in great waves.
Winds rushed across, blowing dust and the smell of old books to meet me. A beat from his holy wings. It took me but half a moment to look up, but he was already gone. I wrapped my fingers around the ring, watching the sun rise, before turning on my heel and walking away.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
