Pearls cure

A week has passed and I haven't skipped school once. It's like some sort of record. I have taught Dracco how to drift threw space, well sort of. He's getting it. At least hes stop hiting his head on the door frames.“Pearrrl?” I love the way my voice sounds said by him. “Would you be of interesting to come over to myahhh housssse”I can only nod. I mean I’ve only known this miracle of science for a week yet we’ve been strangely close. We sit together in every class, and since the appearance of Draco, Arion hasn’t showed his face once.He brings me to a quaint little homing station. "Mama should be home any time soon." He says and leads me to the basement, it’s totally black down there and I stop waiting for him to turn on the lights. Instead he takes my hand and we drift into a black room which I guess is his. We sit down in front of a large holo-grammer but leave it off. "Pearrrl." he says rolling the R's in my name. "I, Can I.....?" He pauses and becomes quieter. I move closer and close my eyes automatically.
He reaches out and grabs my shoulders. Pulling me into his embrace he kisses’ me. Hard at first then he lessens the pressure and kiss's me softly. My senses explode and I feel frozen. My dark social hating core twists and screams as it drops below sub-zero. I’m infected with a chill that pierces my soul's pull apart and there is silence. "Pearl I am being so embarrassed! I-I-" He stutters. "I am so s-s-orr," he looks deep into my eyes and I see a world beyond mine, the frantic cold front raoring threw me. I silence him the only way I know how. I kiss him. A raging sensation of desire ripples threw me. But desire for what? I'm not hungery for the tast of his lips but only the warmth thier not providing. A gaping hole that can only be filled by him, rips open inside me and my emotions spill like blood but freeze half way down.Yet behind the veil of dark hair and beyond his icy eyes I can tell he thirsts for me.This time when we pull apart there is canyon of silence spanning between us. But there’s a bridge suspended near by.

Pearls cure

"Do you mind eff I ave a seat?" It's the male voice again. Deep and rich in texture, I nod. He sits across from me. He has dark olive toned skin and black hair. It’s so dark it sucks up light. His features are sharp and handsome. I almost drool. I’m sure hes new but I’m not one to actually attend class so maybe he sits beside me. He smiles flashing brilliant white teeth. No, I would sure as stars reme,ber something that, gorgeous. "I am new in this school and this drrrifting worrrld of yourrr's." I notice he has rolled his R's. I’m so taken with his amazing voice I don’t even correct the mistake hes made. It’s not my world. I’m not a space brat. "What classssss are you in?" He asks. "Mrs. Gemini's," I answer almost a whisper, afraid that this amzing creature will disappear if I talk to loud. "Oh me too!" He sounds pleased. "Maybe you could be showing me how to." He gesture around. I feel bad for him already. He thinks I could show him around. Ha like I’m ever here long enough to know where I’m going. On the other hand he doesn’t know I’m a complete loser and maybe making a friend would be a good idea. But is it fair to compromise this kid’s social statue for my well being…. Yeah I’d say its okay, look out Luna Lunar high here comes the new loser! I smile and he takes it as a good sign. I nod. "Oh thank you!" He leans over and kiss's my cheek, his lips are soft and warm but it surprises me so I jump back. Funny enough His lips where cold on my cheek, like he had licked dry ice then eaten a popsicle. A shiver of electricity runs up my spine but I push it back, ruining this friendship with a crush could b e deadly. "I'm being so s-s-orrry!" He stutters. "Where I was born it is a showing of thanks your’s." I like this guy more and more and silently curse myself for jumping back. "Its ok." I'm surprised my normally shy voice has been lured out of its hiding spot. He tells me his name is Draco. We talk for an hour about things that interest us. He likes horror books and hates the way garlic leaves your breath smelling terrible. I tell him things that I never bothered to tell my aunt I like horror books too, I live with my aunt and I hate glorp log. Okay who am I kidding I hate horror but I can do it if its for him. I toss my long Black hair back and lead him too our first class.

Pearls cure

"Please stand for the singing of our national anthem." Head Gal Lacerta calls to us above the din of the assembly hall. "Nice of you to join us Pearl," Mr. Gurs my planetary arts teacher hisses in my ear. I just nod, I’ve not exactly one of those grade A+ students, or when I’m here at least. We sorta have a feeling of mutual hate. We have all see them, the bodies the dead "technological pioneers." So it isn't a shock when Head Gal Lacerta starts the slid show. Before our eyes the bloody, bloated and beaten body’s of the 40 men and women flash before us. As they flip past a slight tremor of recognition flits in the back of my mind. Once upon a time, when I actually made contact with human life other than my aunt I had friends who swore that the 10th man has my black hole hair and my small peaked nose. Of course they also swore that Peter pan was an important figure in earthen history which we all know is not true because he was just another politician, prime minister thing, but I think they could be onto something with the tenth man. I do look like him. Or maybe because I’ve never met my father I’m trying to make him some fallen hero or something. “They died trying to save humanity.” The head Gal drones on breaking into my train of thoughts. Her raspy voice a obnoxious awakening from my dreams of a famous father. Of course no one ever mentions that they never knew that they could die. They where never told that they where the lab rats of the government. I add silently trying to imagine Head Gal admitting the government screwed up, which knowing that little government lover would never happen. Head Gal didn’t get to be head because she loved education or moody teens, no she’s here so she can slam government propaganda down our throats every opportunity she gets. Posters line the dim hallways all bearing one message, “the government is right!” Since I'm already in this black hole of boredom they call school I might as well stay, well if I could I would go home but we aren’t allowed to go home for lunch. They lock the doors, with bars. That’s how many kids cut school. That’s how boring it is. Pathetic I know. I sit by my self in the first observation room which is used for studying star trails. It’s cramped, drab and thought by the public school body to be infested by Hacker rats. Tiny four legged machines that have gone haywire, and have microphones and cameras installed into them that show what we are doing to the teachers who all report to the government. But it’s not infected with rats, my one and only friend Arion stumbled in here one day to discover it was only a rumor that some exclusive clue started along time ago. When he told me I tried to find what the club was called or who the members where but there was nothing in the year books so I just gave up and now its our own personal hideout, no one comes here but us, and he’s not even here often. Arion is the son of the government. No I don’t mean that he’s an orphan but being a orphan he could at least pretended his parents cared about him, sadly his mother and father are the government. His Mother is a respected scientist who has some important job “working for the better of the galaxy.” And his father is a member of the star board which is like the government on earth only 100 times stricter. His dad and his goons set the curfew, enforced the tax law and banned usage of transmitters. Let me just say now, Arion is a great guy but his father isn’t a very popular man. Most people are in the fifth observe room, it’s newer and you can sit on actual grass imported from earth and look up at the stars. Not like their not every were though. In our little version of observe. 5 Everything is covered in green shag carpet as if to imitate grass. The walls, the floor, it’s all new carpet but since no one but me comes here they never found out that it got re-finished. Even the old glass dome was replaced. It’s just as nice as any of the other observatories but no one will ever know but me. I positively glow with that realization. I rake my hands threw the soft shag and pull my lunch from my bag, Glorp log courtesy of my aunt who can’t cook real food so she buys fake. There’s just something so wrong about putting a blue blobby substance in your mouth. I nearly choke on the science experiment gone wrong when a voice with a thick earth accent whispers in my ear. "Arrrrre you alone herre?" I jump and almost hit the polished glass dome. I just nod, so much for my alone time. Then I realize he must be here to kill me. I mean I’m not pretty so why in the galaxy would the hormone driven specie (called by the general public, male) even think about talking to me? His question repeats over in my head. Are you alone? If I’m gunna be killed no one but the janitorial staff will find my body. And that won’t be for awhile because the janitors are robots and are constantly in need of repair. Lunar high has all the money from the government but yet when there's a spill the only people to clean it up is well... you. But I guess its better the robo idiots are gone so much because everyone knows they listen in on our conversations and spy on the students. There's no privacy here. I laugh as I realize that Luna high is like a prison... or one of those old fashioned things from those earth movies... what was it? A mind wiping station! They feed us the drivel of politics in every class. Its always government this! Government that! Compared to the outer regions of space earth looks great!

Pearls cure

Pearls cure

a novle by

Fleur De'La Fay

I drift past the floating colony of planet Mars. Fiery red that was once the surface of the planet is all but blocked out. Now roads and home units crowd the swirling scarlet that can only be seen in old, forgotten school text books with names and slogans scrawled impudently across the cracked and ancient pages. Threw the polished dome that covers the arctic pole of mars, I can see some weird looking creatures called penguins. They waddle and slid carefree in their domed enclosure. Weighed down by some science word, that isn’t in my mind but instead where it should be, in those long forgotten pieces of crap they call “text books” gravy something or other. The little black and white bodies of the fantastic beasts barely skim the surface of the sparkling ground. They look cheerful to be in their own skin, so unlike me who wishes I could guild like that. As I watch the happy little animal winding and twisting I’m struck by an odd thought. One upon I time I did guild across the brilliant white ground. But what was t called? "Snow" I say the word out loud testing it on my tongue. I have vague memories of looming emerald trees and bright dancing lights during a time when “snow” littered the frozen ground. I push the thoughts angrily away. Earth, I spit the word far into outer space. I wish I could slam it into a black hole send it packing, away, away from me forever. Every disappointing thing I am comes from Earth. Every unintelligent and dense feature about me was conceived and planed there, from my mysterious curtain of glooms day black hair to my startling sea green eyes. I have another fleeting memory of men made of snow, frosty cheeked children who pack all the white they can fit in their chubby gloved hands into a ball. I remember tall dark hats and angry coal eyes watching me. Ah! I shake my head rattling my brain in my skull. I’m mixing up my unwanted memories. As I try desperately to dislodge the terrible sense of being watched by those cold unfeeling eyes I lose the star trail I was using to navigate home only to drift past Indus, the first star colony, also the governments’ biggest screw up in the history of man. I’ve never really hated the government but I think I hate them for what they did to the poor People of Indus. When the earth looked like it was gong to blow up from some kind of house gases, blue or pink or green something like that. The government developed the first space hotel. They then realized that they would need more than 50 luxurious rooms to house all of humanity so they set up the star colonies of Indus. Those 40 lab rats never did find their cheese. But they died trying. When I’m in a “mood” as my aunt calls it I find some peace coming out here. The inflated body’s never really bothered me. Tomorrow I won’t cut class I silently promise the floating graves. For tomorrow is the day we honor the sacrificial lambs of science. * * *

A little chimney sweep

A little chimney sweep

by

Fleur De'La Fay

"Please" Crys Willian Bottle, "I can clean chimneys sir." The man angry at the small boy with a dirty nose for disrupting whatever important thing a man of such statute should be doing (he couldn't exactly remember just what he was doing walking down Royal street, it was a crumbling district where orphaned chimney sweeps and little matchstick girl sold their wares. The man felt he was stopped to be doing something important. In this desperate and barren community)
"Sir" William shivering in his thread barren vest and grimy trousers coughed. "I'm a very good boy and will clean them spicnspan for a pence.
The man who was lost in his self important thought was dragged out of the vain coma of thought as he sized up the small boy. He looked no bigger than eight and probably had no parents. Just then Mr. Stelouise was struck by a odd thought, maybe the boy was why he was here in this god forsaken place. Maybe this child could do more than clean the chimney. Maybe the boy was the answer to his trouble......
You see the mans wife had be ill ever since their baby had died. And now looking down on the grubby urchin whose wide brown eyes were starved. Hungry for love. The mans thoughts then flew to his nabiours and what Mrs. Macaldy craning her serpent like neck too spy threw her heavy white satin curtains would say. When his son had died Mr. Stelouise had devoted himself to his work. After making the right impressions he had rose quickly in his banking firm. But he lived a hollow life. His wife sensitive to the empty hole inside his heart had felt it was her fault for the baby's miscarriage. She took ill as soon as she realized just how loveless their life was. The blue nursery and hand made cradle made by the Mr. himself now held dust. The box brimming with toys was a empty reminder of what could have been. The running footsteps of children that had promised the happy couple a world where phantoms of longing.
William now tried of standing in the cold trying to convince the sad looking man that burning a fire in a unclean chimney was dangerous was turning to walk away. The hunger pangs growing and slowly gnawing at the in sides of his stomach were starting to make feel dizzy. A frosty wind picked up and clawed at the tattered rags that the William Bottle wore.
The small boy fell to the earth like a soft white snowflake gentle in its descent. Mr Stelouise reached out and caught the small figure, his mind made up.
The wind now picking up clawed and riped at Mr. Stelouise's suit. Clutching the small boy in his arms he hurried as the dreary London sky changed from a lifeless gray to the pearly clouds that surrounded heaven its self. The boys body was rigid and freezing by the time Mr. Stelouise was speeding up his drive. Mrs. Machaldy and her ever craning neck greeted him at the front door. Fumbling madly with the keys Mr. Stelouise burst into him house and placed the boy by the fire side calling their maid Marie to come and tend the fire while he made tea for the poor little urchin. Marie can as soon as Mr. Stelouise opened his mouth. Marie's hair was elegantly piled on top of her head and the charcoal black dress and snow white apron she wore were in place as usual but today something was aims. It wasn't until the boy "William Bottle" (as he called himself) was awake and warm the Mr. Stelouise figured it out. Marie's smile was the missing piece. Immediately Mr. Stelouise called the young maid into the kitchen and asked,
"Marie is Ellen that bad?"
Marie nodded and looked somber. "The doctor" A tear rolled down her face "He said 'er eart et is..." Marie searched for the word in the language that Mr. Stelouise would know best.
"Broken"
Her words barley a whisper echo in the clean kitchen and inside his head. Maybe the boy, this fascinating little creature has come to late? Pushing all thoughts away he asked Marie to bath the boy and bring him to see Ellen. By the time that Marie had discovered the best way to bath a urchin is not to tell them them the ear wax monster is clogging addling their brains and just simply to pick them up kicking and screaming into the tepid water, Mr. Stelouise was sitting quietly with Ellen. Or rather the husk of Ellen. The empty shell left over from years of regret and yearning sat hair combed and shining in front of Mr. Stelouise. Sighing he sat lightly on the edge of her bed and stroked her head. A flicker of a smile flirted across her barren face but disappeared into the hollow creases of worry engraved in her eyes. They sat, a once happy couple now destroyed by the birth of their son who died in the hospital. A uncomfortable silence set in only to be interrupted by the gentle rap on the camber door. Marie entered with the clean William in tow, having finished her task she faded into the kitchen where she put on a pot of tea. She was no fool and could see that tea would be needed.
For a minuet Ellen gazed at the small boy until feeling uncomfortable in the home of the wealthy he stuttered. "I-I-I"m Sorrrry Ma'am I was just wanted to clean the chimney for a bita to eat but I guess I..." "William" Ellen cried out as if not hearing the chimney sweeps speak. In her sickly stat it took all she had to thrown off the covers and stagger over to were the trembling child stood. Protesting he shrank at her embrace. "Oh Gregor how ever did you find him!" Ellen weeping tears of joy asked. The fire in her eyes rekindled after the one encounter.
Mr. Stelouise caught off guard by his own name (having not heard it in so long) was certain his wife had finally lost it. But the wild hunger seemed to have deserted the boy as he clung to Ellen and she hugged him fiercely back. "Mother!"
Gregor bewildered started at the child who he had thought could sweep the chimneys and fill his wife's longing for a child if only for a day. It seemed incomprehensible that he could be his son.

"Gregor" Ellen calls from the hall.
"Yes dear?" Irritated at being woken from a startling dream fumbles to check to clock. "Ellen what is it?!" Stepping out into the hall he saw the situation immediately. Ellen, his life, his love is going to have their baby. As they head to the hospital Gregor is struck by a odd image. The terribly sad eyes of a boy a wife and his life in the business life. Slamming on the break he smiles. Nothing matters now not even his job because his baby son is going to be born. A smile creeps across his face as he and Ellen race threw the narrow London streets in their little car. A little car, a little house a little family but a big love.

Define "normal"

Song of a personal experience......
There she stands,
piling her books in to her locker 2-by-2
Then he walks up
Walks up in his designer shoes.
looks her once over
opens his mouth to be cruel,
says to her
"you know your not really normal"
Fire flashes in her eyes as she says to him
(chorus)
Who the hell
who the hell do you really think you are,
who, who who, the hell are you?

He steps back
looking her over once again,
calm like the air,
air before the storm blows in.
She says...
(chorus)

to judge well
can you define normal baby?
do it for me!
tell me Mr
Just what should I be!?
Are you sure your normal baby?
Please boy
Practice what you preach!!!!
So...
(chorus fade)
By Fleur De'La Fay

A envelope full of fate

A envelope full of fate
A novel By
Fleur De’La Fay

Quiz
Her piercing eyes searched my panicked expression with a demeanour of malicious intent. With only her lethal start she holds me in place, frozen in eternity and lost in space. A slow sickly sweet smile spread across her face forcing her cheeks back and revealing several rows of jagged teeth. I stare at the woman, in the dim fluorescent lights the She looked young but she smelled of old. The deep intoxicating sent of foul mould and rotting filth clung to her crow black hair, and her shapeless back dress. It stuck to the woman’s stiletto heels and spewed out of her grasping and clawing at me. She held out a caw like hand clutching a manila envelope bound with red ribbon. A shriek rose in my throat as the woman flew at me waving the envelope, I cry out in pain as the woman sunk her talon’s into my wrist. Amid the pain and high pitched cackling that sounded more like cawing I had managed to break free of the woman. Having wrenched my arm free I start running only to be jerked back into the sneering face of the bird lady. “This is your fate!” She screeched and threw the envelope at me.
The harsh shaking motion started me awake, Ray my older brother stood brooding at the end of my bed, Having just shaken me awake. “Idiot“ he roared his deep bas voice echoing off the sparse walls of my room.
“Shut the hell up! I was sleeping!” Like an angry lion he tossed a mane of fine brown hair and a deep growing noises reverberated in the back of his throat. “Some bull shit about crows and fate” he spat. If I had been attentive I might have seen the concern in his wild eyes, the recognition of the night terrors of the envelope. But I was already fast asleep.

After stepping off the crowded number 82 bus I caught my first glimpse of West Mont Height school. Of course this spectacle of grey architectural failure was soon blocked out by the anxious face of Charllotte Valeur. “Hia Char” I stifled a yawn.
“Erika! This is the most important day of our lives and yet all you can do is yawn!”
“Sorry” I grinded as I yawned again, this time opening my mouth wide to expose a neat row of teeth that had been straightened by brace’s. “long night” I said as Charllotte rolled her eyes. The tight lines of worry and anxiety where even more apparent than ever as we were jostled and shoved in the mass of students.
In the 6 years I had known Charllotte those lines hadn’t changed. Nether had all her demons been conquered. Her fears of well everything from clowns to crowds were constant as the sun. I remembered the time we first met. It was at camp, I had been climbing a tree to capture the flag and win my cabin 10 points when I fell and broken my arm. The nurse being annoying as nurses often are at camp insisted on casting my arm. This meant no fluidly fun. I was imprisoned in the craft cabana and had (literally) run in to Charllotte. On her way to the bead box Charllotte found herself colliding with a girl covered in blue paint (me). After both finding that we where blue (I had coated my self in blue insisting I had too at least look like I went swimming) we became friends. And since Charllotte was afraid of drowning in the lake she willingly made friendship bracelets with me ever day after lunch while the rest of the girls went swimming.
A buzzer sounded reminder me I was now 6 years older than I had been upon first meeting Charllotte. “That’s the first bell” Charllotte whispered excitedly and clutched my arm. “It sounds so much more sophisticated doesn’t it!” She giggled with glee dragged me across the scuffed side walk ad threw the metal doors. “Sounds like a death toll to me” I mumbled under my breath.
The halls where a complete hell. Groups of wild teens ran rampant yelling, laughing and kicking the crud out of each other. A pack of “Punks” stood screaming and crazily waved their arms around pointing and laughing. A small group of pious teens stalked past clutching crosses and praying a loud. The halls were a collection of rabid teens who stalked the corridor like animals. The sheer amount of noise rocked the lockers and ricocheted off the stone floor. Charllotte was almost in tears by the time we reached what seemed at be the entrance way to the hallway that had all our classes and lockers. Try as we might we couldn’t see over the mass of grade 8’s. It was my turn to drag Charlotte threw our halted class mates. As soon as we reached the front I wished I hadn’t brought Charlotte along. There in front of us was a hideous site to behold. Like caution tape a banner had been taped across the hall bearing the words “your next grade 8’s” in what looked to be blood. But another gruesome sight disturbed our vision. Hanging from the ceiling were dolls, maybe fifty or so all with pins and assorted sharp objects sticking out of them. Each doll’s hair had been painted black and their eyes stared vacantly at the fresh meat… us. Time froze as the devil her self stepped out of the shadows and bared her teeth at us… The whole mobs shuddered in terror at this girl crazy antics. She came right up to the barrier that separated the entrance, the banner. She acted like a wild beast prowling the other side of the obese banner and howled at the students. I screamed and shuttered with my class mates but when the girl with her greasy blond hair and dirty fingernails grabbed Charllottes arm and raised it too her mouth to bite I had, had enough. The fury inside me had been suppressed for to long and like a pop bottle after being shaken and the cap discarded my anger spilled out. In my rage I snatched the banner off the lockers and shredded it. As soon as the barrier came down the class froze. Like they had seen medusa they turned to stone. The girl in all her vulgar actions strode right up to me and hissed “This is fate baby, you wanna live in this school? You follow our rules. It’s a cannibalistic world out there and mommy ain’t gunna hold your hand any more!” With those last words she departed. As soon as she was out of sight a mad roar filled my ears, the stone statues had regained life and where scrambling to swat their way threw the hanging dolls and into their classes. **************************************************************

The number 2 pencil felt heavy in my sweaty palm. In the faint auditorium lights I picked at the threads of my sweater. Beside me Charllotte scrawls her big looping writing in the columns and checks off multiple choice. Here fate is decided, these questions will decided who you are. Yet why couldn’t I finish just one?

The tailor story

His fingers stiff from the bitter cold shake and tremble, a softly creased letter with flowing script is clutched tightly in his hand. The blue light of the moon shining threw Oliver the tailors window casts a frosty almost magical tinge on his cheeks. A gold locket is tucked safely in his Brest pocket. He sleeps in a large emerald green clothed chair, pulled close to the dyeing embers of the once lively fire.The fire crackled and the rough wind like the breath of old man winter himself moans threw his rafters. Wisps of lifeless smoke wind around the furniture and linger like secret lovers after their first kiss, soon to fade deep into the night but not yet ready to face the disapproving eyes of family. Outside heavy, white snowflakes fall gently from the inky black sky. Which is why when Oliver was roughly shaken from his peaceful slumber he didn't notice the cloudy grey feathers dancing softly on the wind. As he jumps out of his chair a small, black and white picture falls to the floor only to be snatched by a passing wind and blown in to the greedy fire."Jane!" He cries and plunges his hand into the fire. The edges are burnt but the picture is unharmed. A smiling woman sits regarding the camera with a some what mischievous look hidden behind her black eyes. Soft curls frame her smooth, pale face. A loving, gold locket hangs at her throat. Her smile is innocent and playful. The letter, locket and photo are all he has left of this gem of a women. Her time on earth barely a grain in the sands of time. Oliver settles back into his chair by the fire haunted with memories of his Jane. Young lovers they where but the gnarled and twisted hands of death reached out and tore her from Oliver's love struck grasp. All that is left of the young, promising man of 20 is a broken shell. His heart once so full of love is now an empty bottle broken and smashed on the rough waves of an unforgiving life. Oliver drifts back into the land of dreams.The pearly Grey feathers continue to drift down to the earth. Oliver wakes again to find delicate grey feathers dancing around his shop. He reaches out to touch one but it floats away from his frigid, blue fingers. He feels a pair of hazel eyes gazing at him from behind following his movements with wide eyed intensity. Slowly he turns to face someone who is only a memory to him.There amidst the swirling feathers stands a woman, Her hair in loose curls shines in the pale moonlight. Her lips, red and glossy like the forbidden apple of Eden. Her skin is luminescent like the full moon and gives off an unearthly glow that’s startlingly beautiful. She wears a white gown that seems to be made of the delicately spun gossamer of every child's wishes. Even in the cold her shoulders are bare and moon kissed. She moves toward him with long sweeping moments that make the cloth rustle and whisper as she skims barely touching the surface of the earth. He reaches out and touches her shoulder. "Jane" He whispers. She takes him in her arms and softly kisses him. Her embrace is freezing yet he can't let her go. Just then he notices the crimson blood spilling out over her shoulder and down the back of her dress. Lie a waterfall of crimson water. Looking in to her eyes he sees she's weak, a fallen angel. Graceful she falls to the earth and he catchers her. Laying her on a bed of his best fabric she seems frail and small, not the woman he fell in love with. Just a shell, even living in two different worlds Jane and Oliver are in sync. Two souls ripped out and left to bleed in a place that can’t be touched. Carefully he gathers the fallen feathers and places them beside her. He could make her wings! He couldn't save her from the suffocating reality of death but maybe he can give her wings to find the peace which has drifted where she can only go with wings. The long rips in the flesh of her back show him she once had wings but he can only guess what happened to them. But what can Oliver use as thread? The moon shines threw his gingerbread glazed windows and he rushes over to it. He winds the moonbeams until the spool sparkles and glistens like fresh dew. Quickly he crafts the feathers together until they form 2 huge white wings. Slowly as if he is afraid he will break her if he is too loud he takes her in his arms and makes a stitch in the skin. Her wide searching eyes fly open and she screams. Withering and shaking in his arms she cries. Her screams are silent but reach down into what soul he has left and drags sharpened claws over it tearing it into smaller pieces. Pain shoots threw his body as he makes another stitch. Another silver stitch another soul tearing screech, and another and another. One wing is on but he has to stop, her pain is so intense it rips the hard mask of hate he constructed so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain he had for years.
"Let go of me" She reaches out to him. "Set me free and let me be just a memory, soon we will be together" But he can't let her go. "Take me with you" he begs. But she shakes her head sadly.
"I will go instead of you then." He pleads.
"No I need you here." Not a sound has escaped their lips yet they talk. One tortured soul to another.
He finishes the silver stitches and kisses her one last time.
"Oliver, Please darling," she smiles.
Jane stands in front of him extending a hand, she wears a white, gold and silver dress. He takes her hand and they walk into the moon light together.
By Fleur De’La Fay