Our Wings
My eyes never left the city view beneath me, and they focused on the suddenly small figures dancing around the street as if life was spectacular and wondrous. I found myself truly wishing for their sake that life was- at least for them, anyways.
My body remained still as it balanced on the edge of the rooftop. It was screaming at my mind to climb down, to think logically, but my mind was tired of being logical. Things were different now, and that part of me, that sane part of me that used logic and statistics to cope with the horrors of my life, had shut down years ago. It was finally time to let go of that charade, my mind had told me.
My mind processed the fact that it was snowing later than it should have- in fact, it had probably been snowing for hours now. It was too busy fighting with itself to realize there was a world surrounding my body, but I understood its dilemma, or at least I think I did.
My arms, which had been folded behind my back, finally let go of each other as they realized that logic had lost the battle. They spread themselves out in the cold winter air and braced for impact.
My ears barely processed the noise that had suddenly came from behind me, but it was enough of a distraction for my mind to lose focus and instruct my neck to twist around. My eyes focused on the sharp-formed object that was shaking its head, and my ears listened as It started speaking.
"All of our wings are broken and bent, Spencer,, but they can be fixed."
My mind couldn't even be angry, and my body had to be willed to respond as if it had to be re-turned on by flipping a switch in the brain. Finally, the command went through, and my lips started to move.
"Who's Spencer?" my lips managed to respond, and there must have been something else they wanted to say to It, because when they realized that my body wouldn't let it talk anymore, a single tear rolled down my eye.
But before It could respond, before it could react to anything else that may have happened, my arms were parted again and my feet were walking forward. As they ran out of solid ground, my wings spread to their full length and revealed their black apparel, their ripped edges, their abused structure. As my body stepped closer to the edge, I could feel my wings rip and tear- for the last possible time, my mind quickly noted- underneath the pressure and force of the brutal wind and the freezing snow.
And as I finally let go, I pretended I could fly- if only for a moment.
~* Our Wings *~
This is my second figurative winged Spencey fic, but it will probably not be the last ;) Thnx for reading; hope you liked it!