skinny
I’m the skinny angel. I could use my halo for a hula hoop. They call me The Arrow. I won all the dropspeed competitions. My bones nearly poke through my skin. I’m a sylph. I make Iggy Pop look fat. I’m a light load for my wings to carry. I’m not the strongest or even the smartest but I am the fastest by a long shot.
I suppose that’s why I survived the attack. I flew away. I outraced the shockwave. The hundreds that died in screams of fire just behind me weren’t so lucky. My wings were singed. The blackness of those burns started to spread until I ripped those feathers out. It was very painful.
Heaven’s been destroyed. I hear that there are other survivors but I haven’t been contacted yet. I am down on Earth. I can make my wings transparent to humans. I can’t hide my skeletal ectopmorphic body but by posing as a homeless person, I can practically make myself invisible to other humans. They think I’m very sick.
I have to formulate a plan. I’m immortal. This disguise won’t work forever. The attackers will find me soon enough if they’re going for a total wipeout. I wish I was smarter. My mind just locks up in panic when I try to figure out a plan of action.
Sitting against the cold wall with my arms around my drawn up knees, I ponder the tin cup in front of me next to my cardboard sign asking for money. My dark eyes focus on the snowflakes as they fall to the sidewalk around me.
Two coins fall into my cup.
I look up into the feral smile and glowing red eyes of a man in a very black suit.
I don’t even scream. I hear the armoured red tailpoint embed itself in the wall where I was sitting. I’m miles away already. The sonic boom of my departure hopefully deafened the assassin.
There goes hiding in Chicago. I’m torn between trying a small town or a large city as my next hiding place. I stay in the clouds and pretend I’m back in heaven, waiting for a decision to come to me.
tags
I suppose that’s why I survived the attack. I flew away. I outraced the shockwave. The hundreds that died in screams of fire just behind me weren’t so lucky. My wings were singed. The blackness of those burns started to spread until I ripped those feathers out. It was very painful.
Heaven’s been destroyed. I hear that there are other survivors but I haven’t been contacted yet. I am down on Earth. I can make my wings transparent to humans. I can’t hide my skeletal ectopmorphic body but by posing as a homeless person, I can practically make myself invisible to other humans. They think I’m very sick.
I have to formulate a plan. I’m immortal. This disguise won’t work forever. The attackers will find me soon enough if they’re going for a total wipeout. I wish I was smarter. My mind just locks up in panic when I try to figure out a plan of action.
Sitting against the cold wall with my arms around my drawn up knees, I ponder the tin cup in front of me next to my cardboard sign asking for money. My dark eyes focus on the snowflakes as they fall to the sidewalk around me.
Two coins fall into my cup.
I look up into the feral smile and glowing red eyes of a man in a very black suit.
I don’t even scream. I hear the armoured red tailpoint embed itself in the wall where I was sitting. I’m miles away already. The sonic boom of my departure hopefully deafened the assassin.
There goes hiding in Chicago. I’m torn between trying a small town or a large city as my next hiding place. I stay in the clouds and pretend I’m back in heaven, waiting for a decision to come to me.
tags