A Single White Feather
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I was alone in the twilight. I could see that I was in a park. The setting was obvious, but there was a strange feeling set to me. I was stock still, and a look of fear was across my face. I was alone... and I didn't like it. Suddenly, there was a sound. Like the whooshing of the wind. I spun around. Upon the clock lamp was a figure with piercing white wings–
THUNK! Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk. CRASH!
I sat up gasping. A loud sound shook me out of my dreams, coming from outside. I stared wide eyed into the darkness, afraid of some kind of thief or rapist trying to come into my house. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and moonlight flooded through the French doors that lead to my balcony. I turned toward it slightly looking for the source of the sound– the paranoia never leaving me.
"Riku...?" I called out timidly. Of course, no response.
Now, I have no idea what came over me here, but I got up out of bed, and slowly, slowly, walked over to the glass doors, slowly peeking through the pink curtains. What I saw both made my anger boil, and made me surprised. Somebody had broken my favorite pot! It wasn't a small pot, but it was a nice pot, and I liked it! And they just had to break it.
Okay, my next move was very stupid. I opened the latch and went outside.
I headed for my pot, gaping in agony in it's loss, and looking over the edge to see if I could find the perpetrator, so I could turn him into the police. Not seeing anything, I sighed reluctantly, and turned to the side. Something caught my eye.
It was a white feather.
I bent down and picked it up off the cold cement floor of the balcony. A feather... the same color as the wings on the figure in my dream... The wind blew slightly, ruffling the feather a tad, and my hair, and that's when I heard it. A distinct groan. I looked up, and I saw something I never thought that I would ever see.
A boy with blue hair leaning against the wall of my house.
Now, the fact that I remembered him from class today, was enough to surprise me; he was also bleeding and he had two really big white wings on his back. He took a deep staggered breath and turned to look at me. His eyes were the color of the sea at midnight, and they stared me down. Of course, I was standing frozen to the spot staring at him.
His eyes narrowed, and he looked at me angrily like I was some kind of imposing creature. It sort of surprised me, but I was already getting over the shock that he even had wings to begin with, so the glare was no big deal. I knew that I looked like a dear in headlights, but he was hurt, and I had to help him.
So, I took a step toward him.
His glare seemed to intensify tenfold, and I almost stopped in my tracks from his icy look, but I told myself that he was bleeding and needed help badly. So, I boldly stepped forward again, increasing my speed.
He seemed to shrink away as I got closer. I knelt down next to him and looked him over. I didn't have a great view– he was holding one of his arms protectively against his chest, and he was leaning away from me. He couldn't fix himself up– he was in pretty bad shape, and his right arm looked broken. So, I took it upon myself to help him. Well... as long as he stayed here when I went to go and get stuff to help him.
"Don't move. I'll be right back." I told him. He didn't even stir. It was obvious. He was probably going to try and leave while I went to get something to help him with. I got up, and practically sprinted into the house, heading for the bathroom. I tried to stay quiet so I wouldn't wake anyone else up, but our house was so big that it probably wouldn't even make them flinch.
I gathered all the necessary stuff, and ran back to my room, and out the French doors. To my great surprise– and gratefulness– he was still there. He had his head propped back on the wall, and his eyes were closed, his breath ragged. I sat on my knees next to him. He didn't make any movement to acknowledge that I was there.
"I'm going to help you . . . okay? Just tell me where you're hurt." I whispered to him. I don't know why I whispered, but for some reason, I did. He flinched suddenly, and his eyes shot open. He clutched his arm to his chest again. Yep. That was broken.
I set the stuff down and I reached back to tie up my hair. Then, I pushed my nightgown's sleeves up as high as they would go. Then, I reached for him. That's when he physically shifted away from me, his eyes scrutinizing everything that I did.
"Listen. I know that you probably don't want me to help you, but you're hurt. You could die if you don't get some help soon. I'm willing to help you, but you need to be able to let me help you . . . Please." I asked quietly. I watched his face for a moment. Nothing really changed about it. It just stayed as distrusting as before. I reached out for him again. He didn't flinch away this time.
I started with his arm. I asked him to help me move it away from him. I tried to keep it from hurting by splinting it with one of my CosmoGirl magazines. Using another one, I splinted his wrist– which he somehow managed to break as well. Then, I let it kind of hover to the side for a moment.
"Try not to move it please." I asked him. He didn't respond. His shirt was bloodied (I noticed that it was our school uniform's.) and I had to get to the cuts beneath it. I unbuttoned it trying not to hurt him any more than he was already. I felt my cheeks heat up as I wrapped the bandage around his torso. But, I soon forgot about that as I realized just how bad his injuries were.
I finished it all up by putting a handmade sling on him for his arm, and taking a cool wash cloth and wiping the remaining blood off of his face. He stared right at my face through the entire process, never once looking to the side. Although his glare melted away after a while, he still didn't look like he trusted me.
Well, it was understandable. I was a stranger after all.
"There." I said as I wiped his forehead. "You look better all ready!" I gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten his mood a bit. I noticed, that his eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter before turning back into a look of almost complete expressionlessness. His wings– which I seemed to forget about for a moment there– shifted a bit, and a look of agony passed over his face. I watched concerned. Then it dawned on me. I missed a spot.
His wings.
I shifted my position so that I could examine his wings. They looked okay for the most part, kind of roughed up, but okay none the less. And that confused me. I didn't understand why they would hurt him. I glanced over his shoulder to where the large flying contraptions made contact with him, and located the problem. His right wing was torn a bit. It was bleeding pretty badly, and it didn't look good...
"Um, could you do me a favor?" I asked, leaning back up so that I could see his face . . . not that it was needed. He was staring at me. "Sit up a bit. I'm going to try and help your wing." His eyes seemed to narrow a bit more, and he looked as if he was frowning. But none the less, he sat up for me– letting out a groan of pain in the process.
Slowly, I wrapped the injured part of his wing. The bleeding started to stop, and I sighed in relief. I sat back and gave him one last look over to see if I missed anything.
"Who . . . are you?"
His voice startled me. I hadn't expected him to say anything, and it obviously scared me when he did. But I smiled soon after.
"Risa. Risa Harada. Now, let's try and get you somewhere that you can rest." I said, reaching for a place that he wasn't badly injured. He didn't resist when I helped him to stand up. I lead him through my French doors, and to my bed. I made sure that he laid down, and was comfortable before I took a couple extra blankets and made a bed for myself on the floor.
I was busy making a quilt pillow when he spoke again.
"Risa . . . Harada-san . . . Thank you."
I smiled up at him. "Of course."
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The next morning, I woke up from a slight breeze and the morning sun tickling my face. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked a few times trying to figure out why I was on the floor. When I figured it out, I jumped up so suddenly that the dizzy spell hit me. I stood there for a moment letting it pass, then I looked at my bed.
It was neatly made and my French doors were open. On my bed, there was a folded note next to a white feather. I opened the note in curiosity.
Risa Harada-san,
I appreciate your hospitality and your care.
Thank you.
I looked out the French windows as I fingered the single white feather. "I never did learn his name..."
Fin