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As he felt her cold wet mascara stained tears on his stomach, it dawned on him that
he had taken her away from what she truly needed most of all. "What have i done, he
thought as he gazed into her irritatedly grief-stricken eyes. He had taken from her,
some for the better, far more for the worse. Now he was all she had.
Holding her, he could feel that nothing he could do, would allow him to shoulder her
unbearable pain. He gazed upon her once more and this time she appeared to him as
nothing more than a angel that lacks a soul. So there he left her, only for her to
become an angel may trapped in a whirlpool of her own vengeance.
The angel grew impatient, waiting for him to come home. So out of patience she
began tarring her wings apart, ripping them right off her back, piece by piece, feather
by feather. Taring more and more pieces off as she walked. Her wings began to
deteriorate by themselves. So there the wing damaged, soulless angel stood on-top a
tree, over looking the river, frustrated. For the man she was learning to love had
vanished without so much as a single fingerprint.
Missing for days it seemed, even though it had only been thirteen minutes. Any
movement at all, one more inch, (her next step could be her last) she'd fall into the
river. Suddenly a gush of hot wind storms by, the angel stumbles, foot slips, and falls
through the leaves into the river below. She tries to fly out, fails regrettably. Nothing
she could do now except go with the current.
The man hastily looks all over the house for the angel. She's nowhere to be found.
A cold chill runs down his spine, outside he stalks the trail of feathers left by the angel.
Light blue, glowing feathers, left clean by the mud they were thrown upon. Strange no
footprints though. He spots the tree, the angel fell from, each branch covered in
feathers and bits of wing bone.
About to drown, the angel notices a mushroom cap the size of a surfboard floating
alongside her in the warm river. Without any thought, she climbs aboard the mushroom
cap, stands and begins to surf the current as if she had done nothing but surfed all her
life. Even though she had yet to touch a surfboard, in all actuality.
Faster, slower, and then faster again, the river became as the man chased the
feather-laced current. The river poured out until it came to a small trickle that led into
a forest of nothing but over-sized mushrooms upon over-sized mushrooms. There, on
the ground lay an upside down mushroom cap with the angels foot imprinted in it. The
man has just missed the angel. The man began to think his efforts to find the angel
were futile.
He felt a soft sting on his shoulder, just a butterfly. The blue butterfly with a
dandelion orange outlining on the outside of its wings, sat upon his shoulder, no
movement for minutes. Then it began to flap its wings up and down as if to shrug the
shoulders. No matter which way the man moved, he could not make the butterfly
leave. Finally the butterfly rose up and fluttered away in an eerie slow way, as to say
follow me.
At the base of a very over-sized mushroom stood the angel hiding from the rain.
For if her wings became wet she wouldn't be able to fly. Which did not matter no such
mind, her wings were far too damaged for her to take flight with. However, she stood
among the underside of the mushroom until the rain subsided.
The man followed that weak rain-sprinkled butterfly until it could fly no more. Its
wings had become so heavy with rain, that poor butterfly simply could not hold itself
up no longer. It hit the ground with a loud frightening sound, like thunder on a stormy
night. The butterfly landed a few inches from the feet of the angel.
The angle flinched back a few feet into the open grass, with the man standing a
step in-front of her. He bent down to pick up a feather and the angel vanished before
his very eyes. Nothing stood before him, except a pure white dove in her place.
The man searched high and low, the angle was gone. Frustratedly, the man sat
with his feet clouded in mushrooms. He soon fell sound asleep under the stars. Where
the angel watched over him until the sun began to rise, making a series of brilliant
bright lines throughout the sky.
The angel pranced through the slippery thick mud until she reached an ancient
bridge, overlooking field and fields of long blueberry ivy vines. Where she sat and
began to sing. The sound that came from her throat was not that of a siren, for she was
not attempting to lure a man to his doom. Yet a sound so amazing that it woke the
sound asleep man.
The man followed the astounding noise until he soon spotted her sitting on the
bridge. The noise ceased just as the angel stopped singing. It was then that the man
realized the astounding noise was the angel singing. Each standing twenty feet from
one another. The angel stood still, froze like a deer in headlights. Like the hunter, the
man dare not to move afraid he would scare away the angel.
"You will have to find yourself another enemy, for i refuse to fight, but i will
continue to chase you," the man softly spoke. He reached out a hand for her to grasp,
as he took one step closer she dove off the bridge into the blueberry vines below. The
vines caught her, the way a glove catches a baseball. Suspended a good 33 feet from
ground, she could see the man swinging from vine to vine like Tarzan. Standing directly
under the angel, balancing on four vines, the man pulled her free from the vines, and
placed her directly on the ground.
He turned her to face him and his mouth dropped wide open, for the angel
had not a face, no. As if her mouth, eyes, and nose had been melted inwards, the way
a candle melts.
 meany greeny · Sat Feb 13, 2010 @ 11:06pm · 0 Comments |
