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A Wandering Bird


 
A cracked smile had gotten her change enough for a coke. She'd stolen the socks that now covered her arms from the shelter's lost and found. That could have been the reason they didn't match, but then again, Raya never really appeared to match anything with anything. If there were two buttons that were alike she would own them, but it wouldn’t be driven by purpose. The left arm was clad in a sock with red stripes, it was white and long. It barely fit. But it would do. The right arm had a black sock with the Nike logo, she'd covered that up with buttons long ago.

Bright ones, pink, blue, neon green, one with a little peace sign on it that she’d scratched out. The night air was warm as she waltzed past the sign announcing she'd crossed the city limits.

The boots she'd taken were a size too big, but she'd managed with a sock or two stuffed into the toes. Practical, even if she was crazy, her feet got covered. Delusional didn't always mean idiot. They'd come to learn that when she'd left their comfy little home. Such disarray and wanton behaviour; a laughing memory among voices which threaded through a porous mind.

Still, they did little to quell the fire inside..

The one that kept her warm at night.

Not like the heat didn't, but when you slept in the desert upon rocks and stared up at the sky in your waking hours it was hard to keep with time. It was difficult for her, even with a watch. Though the ones she wore over the socks on her arms had run out of battery life or were battered too much beyond working form ever again.

They still whispered.

Everything did.

A musical tune hummed, she continued towards the bright city lights with an awed expression. What kind of revelry would she find here, what kind of glamour? Stomping her foot as another car passed by she remained irritated at the fact that she couldn't speed as fast as they could down the highways.

That one facet of time still plagued her.

Longevity? She worried not.

But the passage of it and it's effects well.. that was something else entirely. Unaware of it as a whole, the signs did not escape her entirely. She knew when it was time to eat, when to sleep, when to shower, when to spit the pills out into the toilet.

When to close her eyes.

But not on the dotted yellow line she balanced upon now?

Never.

A car went by again and she yelled a string of obscenities at it.

"Metal misery, faint hearts in an iron shell!"

Her hair a mess of dreds, they were divvied up by a rash of plastic pink bows typically found in a little tykes hair. Or her dolls. Cheeks rouged by sunburn, the rest of her skin remained clear as no make up was in her possession. Nothing to draw with, she has not drawn upon. So she supposed that the suspenders which held up her socks made up for it in her eyes with the rainbow of colour and an assortment of colourful buttons. Small blue ones which shimmered when the headlights of a car came into contact with their surfaces, they almost shone silver and caught her in the brightness of it. Some were black and opaque, some were flat and square, still each had been sewn on with a healthy amount of hair from their victim and a needle of course.

Why by thread when you didn’t have to?

Another car. This one honked his horn as if to warn her.

But what was the use, she knew exactly where she was walking and knew that the bright orange of her trousers would probably reflect in the light anyhow.

What would the human do if he hit her?

She would figure that out if it happened.

If it happened.

Another mile and still no ride until a semi-heading into the cit slowed for the ragamuffin. She still had dirt on her knees, elbows and rear, as well as a dark stain upon the blue shirt which now had no arms. Scampering around to the side, Raya climbed into the tractor trailer and made a friendly face at the driver. He spoke sparingly about his family, wife, his routine. But it wasn’t as much as she’d hoped for and in the end the Fae ended up ditching him rather than the other way ‘round.

Bound to be more interesting things to listen to.

Births of babies, milestones and the undisputable time between Vegas and LA.

Pshaw. Who needed to know these things anyway? Did any of them involve fun things? No.

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