Morrisa

Chapter 9

I am dying.

I thought as darkness consumed me.

I fought back the darkness. Pulled my eyes open and lifted myself up. I will not die. I can get out of this and I'll live. I did not bother to dust myself up. I dragged myself ahead. Every step was painful. My knees could not take my weight and my walk grew wobbly. Yet I dragged myself forward.  At every step, my body would defy me and at every step, my determination would grow stronger.

I can pull myself through.

I will find food at home.

I need to reach home.

I can do it.

I tripped on a stone and fell to the ground. My knees were bruised and gravel dug in my palms. I sat with my knees pulled to my face, locking my hand around them. A tear fell from my eye and started to sob. I knew I should not break. I should keep on walking. But I could not do it.

I cannot do it.

I sobbed louder.

I am going to die.

The sobbing grew harsh and uncontrollable. I sobbed and sobbed there. A part of me tried to console myself, a part of me had given up. A part of me wanted to be strong, and a part of me wanted to cry.

If only I could f-

I have wings! I can use them.

Sobs vanished and I wiped my tears with newfound optimism. I sat straight and I concentrated on my wings. I closed my eyes and thought of my wings.

I opened my eyes with a hopeful smile on my face. I glanced at my back.

They weren't there.

I closed my eyes and tried again.
The black wings. I thought. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes and saw there were no wings. Frustration took over me and a tear rolled down my eyes. I punched the ground beside me as I started crying more. Huge sobs started escaping again.

I can't do it!

I am gonna die!

The bloody wings won't help me! They are a part of me, they are just like my hands. Mine!

Still, they won't budge! Bloody wings!

Thoughts were consumed in anger. I kicked the air and punched the ground as I cried.

Try one last time.

Nothing will happen!

Maybe it works this time? Try one last time.

I tried to calm myself. Readying myself for the one last time, I sat straight again.

I closed my eyes and thought. I thought of my jet-black wings, the way they flap, creating a small breeze around me. The colour blacker than of the raven's, the feathers softer than linen, shinier than silk. The strength hidden behind the softness. Their length is longer than half my height. Their origin is bone under the shoulder blades of my back. I imagined them growing out from just a protruding bone to a bundle of feathers. I thought of my black wings.

I opened my eyes, wary of seeing the wings. I did not want to be disappointed. Warily, I glanced back.

They were not there.

And I broke.

Tears and huge sobs consumed me. I fell to the ground again, crying my heart out. I cursed the wings, I cursed the fate, I cursed my powers, I cursed last night and I cursed the god for making me this.