The Correction

Chapter 2- Faries aren't real. I thought.

The snow kept falling, all through the night, new layers fell and melted; the icy wind knocked at the window and battered the trees outside. I watched everything. I felt like I was watching the seasons, everything passing by. I saw it as I lay there in my bed. The night falling and rising, the sunset and dawn, the dark to the light.

I couldn’t sleep. Every cell in my body told me too but my brain kept me awake… the thought of Claire, of tomorrow, of the consequences. I shuddered.

My room was dark. The eerie silence buzzed in the air, spreading through the room like smoke. I felt alone, as my thoughts wondered down the path through my window. It was also late, very late. It was past midnight the last time I’d checked.

I tried to rest my eyes but every time I did I saw the same thing. Claire, and then me bleeding and bruised.

I stared at the snow beginning to fall; it was fresh and shimmered on the ground like a thousand crystals in the sunlight. As the new layers fell, my eyelids weakened I let them close. Then there was darkness.

*****

It was the morning of my death day. I’d had about two hours sleep but I wasn’t sleepy. I lay there looking around my plain room; I had nothing much except a few picture frames and photos unlike other girls with posters of celebrities or make up sets cluttering their bedroom space.

I forced myself up, my heart was pounding hard in my chest and it hurt but I dealt with it. Standing up I walked over to the door, but then I passed the mirror. I stopped,

Paced back a few steps, and froze. I rubbed my eyes. No it was real.

Among my bruises, which were currently purple-ish blue, and my tiered eyes and hair was something… unusual. On my back were two fluttering wings. Yes wings. I blinked and blinked, but they stayed there. When I moved they did… they were real. The wings were not completely transparent but a misty clear colour. They were like angel wings with tiny feather-ish markings and glistened and sparkled in the light.

They couldn’t be real… could they? Carefully I raised my gentle hand and stretched to touch them. Suddenly a tingle ran through my blood, stunning my fingertips and forcing them to move. They were real!

“Ebony, hurry up… do you want this lift or not?” Mum called up the stairs, “I’m leaving in three minutes”

Shit. I ran to my bedside table. It was 8: 22 and I’d woken up two hours late! I nearly ran out and down the stairs in my pyjamas but then I remembered the wings. Quick as a shoot I ran to my door and called down the stairs...

“Mum, I don’t feel well. I’ve just gotten up…” I added a few sniffles and a cough, “could I stay home today? Please, I am old enough!”

There was a few slow seconds silence as I added sniffles. I guessed she must of nodded and soon after a herd a loud slam of the door. I let out a sigh of relief, thank God.

For a few seconds I just stood there, trying to bring myself back to reality but I couldn’t because I fear I was already there. My fingers traced back up to the things on my back… the wings. But they were still there and the tickling shock twisted through my veins and my hand uncontrollable flopped back down again.  

I’d come up with a method. Mad, I must be mad. Why the hell else do I imagine a pair of angel wings on my back? But I wasn’t mad or I wouldn’t be thinking I was mad… right?

I began to think what to do- for some reason parents don’t tell you what to do when you grow a pair of angel wings one day. I scanned through my mind, trying to think about what I was meant to do if these wings were real. Whenever I had a problem my dad always said ‘think about something you might’ve not been fully listening too, that will probably give you the answer’- he spoke a bit funny but it always helped.