I could feel icy eyes rolling down my left wing, which was one display.
I could feel how bare the burnt blackness felt upon my skin and heart. It was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, I was falling. I could feel the heat and intensity of a million souls of dust below me, the light touching the tip of my single feather.
I don't remember how this problem was presented to me. All I remember is weakness.
Thunder crashed and waves lapped at my face.
The only thing I didn't know was that these waves were made of a thousand dark ashes of sun and silver linings of the deepest cavern.
The one thing I didn't know was the heat was burning, burning, intensely on my bruised wings.
The only thing I didn't know was that the waves were hands that were slowly pulling me down into the abyss, the abyss, the dark, cruel, abyss of death.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted Feathers
Random" I can't. " My soft breath left in small wisps of pain. Coldness stretched across the antique land, returning innocence and corpse sadness in the once beautiful bouquets of flowers.
