Chapter Fifteen, Part Two: Black IceMature

Wings emitted from her back like tree trunks, somber, grasping. 

Two vicious arms played a frozen game of Red Light, Green Light in the aching darkness, that alone time between apartment building and shop when all the neighbors still don’t know you and it’s a dismal one after midnight. 

Cold wrinkles like wet candles flaming up scantily dressed old-time arches, inked along her passageways by years of stolen time, whiled away in a roc’s egg. 

But the heat of the light, the green song, had fallen over her once the sonic had been dropped. 

-Had been- dropped. 

It was dropped, and it still lit and blinked and flashed, for a while. 

Enough to sear her with its little fire-shadow. 

And how that fire-shadow climbed up her well-turned calf! The son of a sundial and a dreamy archaeologist. 

So yes, the sonic is still there, setting back a bit into its place of honour, the tiny indent it made in the ice. 

And she? 

Well, she is not in well standing anymore; barely a witchy puddle, really. 

Hot tears can do that, in a pinch.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed