Feudal Wings – Book 1 – Chapter 8
CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of genocide
To some, wings reaching across the starry night sky would’ve meant freedom. To Peponi, they usually meant a flight for her life, and tonight was no different.
CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of genocide
To some, wings reaching across the starry night sky would’ve meant freedom. To Peponi, they usually meant a flight for her life, and tonight was no different.
“… Do they have less stars in the human realm?” Aisling asked, something like pity flashing across her face.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, the hare vanished off into the brush in a dash of fur that seemed to glow when it caught the dying sun. Esko blinked a couple times, shaking his head to collect himself, and turned to glance over his shoulder.
Your place on the couch is empty. Your wind chimes still hang in the garden. Your books are on my shelf, as old as you were. It’s okay. I know you haven’t really left. I still think of you when I walk along the creek. I think about how the water splits around the rocks. It’s okay. It’s not that I don’t grieve. It’s not that I don’t miss you. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. But it’s okay. I…
Bleached like whale bones, Fallen beneath the waves Embedded in the muck down deep, I cannot breathe. Bleached like whale bones, Still and silent, Picked clean by scavengers, Too dark to see. Bleached like whale bones, My heart holds no more meaning. You lie as quiet as the seafloor, And my life holds no more value. In this graveyard of giants, I am drowning, And I will not come back up. Bleached like whale bones, I give up and wait…
They’re not giving them back. None of that is how angels work. Yet, for some reason, you try anyway. You wander the woods, Lost in the fog around you, Offering your starving blood As though that will do something. The gates of heaven bar you. “It is not your time yet,” says the thing at the door. You protest, but it does not listen. “I’ll do better this time! I swear!” When will you understand That there is nothing you…
Rain. It rains. It rains, and it does not stop the fire. Nothing will. Nothing ever will. It wasn’t fair to you, Was it? It wasn’t fair to you At all. Pour. It pours. It pours, and it does not stop the fire. Nothing will. Nothing ever will. They hurt you, Didn’t they? They hurt you So bad. Soggy in the street, You scream at the sky. You pour your kerosene Across the ground. You strike the match And watch…
It is home with you Here beneath the pines. I wait in the dappled light Hoping you’ll be back soon. I cannot wait To greet you tonight And leap into your open arms. You’ve been here A hundred years or more. Indestructible, eternal, Though fire has marred your bark. The air is filled With the chainsaw’s roar, But I am safe near your roots. Surely, you will rise. Surely, this is not the end. Your head bleeds, your heart slows,…
CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of suicide, depictions of survivor’s guilt
She said nothing. The wind rushed through the pine needles, howling like a wolf without its pack. The snow beneath him should’ve felt cold, but instead it just felt crunchy, like the stuff that would compact into ice if you pressed it down hard enough.
Cecelia fell to her knees in the pine needles next to them, gesturing frantically with her hands. “What the heck is going on in this town? I was trying to find you and Avery yesterday but instead I saw a weird guy with a triangle head and he looked at me and it gave me a headache and-”