SHRIEK: Crimes of the Stars [1/1]
You said you would love me until the stars were tried for their crimes. Until every last one of them fell from the sky. I didn’t really know what you meant, so I just smiled and rested my head on your shoulder as you stared at the far away pinpricks of light. Later I wondered if you knew, if you had seen it coming. Because by the morning the only thing giving light through the thick clouds was the great tear in the sky, revealing the poisoned heavens.
You seemed calm through it all, while some fell to their knees and lifted their hands and others just held their loved ones and cried.
But then they appeared. They seemed almost translucent, shimmering with color, absorbing and reflecting the polluted light.
The scruffy homeless man shouting in the street rushed up to you when he saw them. He called you a chosen one and reached out to touch the iridescent feathers. You pulled away in fear and begged me to take you home.
Spencer and Jon couldn’t see them.
You cried and tore at them, the feathers coming out in clumps and landing dully on the floor. You scraped and pulled at them until your fingers were stained with blood. They couldn’t see that either.
Then Pete called you on the phone, sobbing. His words were barely recognizable. He thought Patrick had gone crazy; he kept insisting he had wings. When he woke in the morning Patrick was gone and Pete was terrified. You heard the gunshot echo from the phone and you hung up without a word.
Two days later Joe called and told you how beautiful it had been to watch Patrick fly away.
Spencer found you with a gun pressed to your own head. You felt the forces pulling you but you didn’t want to go. You whispered that you wouldn’t pay for the crimes of the stars, but Spencer didn’t understand. I didn’t either, but I saw your wings flex impatiently. I watched you shiver and cry with the pain of resistance.
You wouldn’t go outside anymore. Then again, most people wouldn’t. They were afraid of the choking clouds and the absence of the sun.
The world was dark and cold without its sun, but it didn’t freeze over like the scientists said it would. Nothing happened like anyone said it would.
There was no day and no night. Some people went crazy; the streets were a place of terror.
I woke to the sound of your scream, piercing my sleep and the steady night. You arched your back and turned your contorted face to the sky, pleading. Your wings seemed to faintly glow, a fire spreading slowly from the inside until they burst into flame, a gift being revoked. You writhed and thrashed, but the fire did not spread or cease. The sheets remained un-scorched as your cries brought Spencer and Jon running.
They panicked when they saw you; the pain was written clearly on your face. Then they started asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and I knew. Even now, they couldn’t see. The terrifying and beautiful sight of your wings burning was left for only me to see.
Then Spencer gasped and rushed over to you, reaching out to hold onto you, for it seemed that you were somehow fading. You flickered in and out of view, never seeming to return to a fully solid form. He tried to grasp your arm and keep your there, but you were still twisting in the grips of your agony. Eventually Spencer and Jon left, and the fire smoldered and went out, leaving just an ashen skeleton of your wings behind.
Slowly the skies cleared, revealing the fresh stars and their strange constellations. But this new sky had no sun. The night remained. The cold remained.
Some days you seemed almost normal, but still distant. Never smiling, never laughing. And there were the days you faded. When I would find you staring wistfully at the sky and your seldom heard voice was silent. Almost translucent, like a part of you was lost to the heavens. And the charred skeleton of your wings remained; a constant reminder.
I found you once, eyes closed and face upturned, arms spread. And I swear I saw your wings twitch, yearning for the skies that had forsaken you.
You didn’t feel anything anymore. A ghost, still living. It became hard to stay with you, but I did, unable to leave you so alone. You were broken. We all were.
The earth was broken, but order had been returned to the skies.
You seemed calm through it all, while some fell to their knees and lifted their hands and others just held their loved ones and cried.
But then they appeared. They seemed almost translucent, shimmering with color, absorbing and reflecting the polluted light.
The scruffy homeless man shouting in the street rushed up to you when he saw them. He called you a chosen one and reached out to touch the iridescent feathers. You pulled away in fear and begged me to take you home.
Spencer and Jon couldn’t see them.
You cried and tore at them, the feathers coming out in clumps and landing dully on the floor. You scraped and pulled at them until your fingers were stained with blood. They couldn’t see that either.
Then Pete called you on the phone, sobbing. His words were barely recognizable. He thought Patrick had gone crazy; he kept insisting he had wings. When he woke in the morning Patrick was gone and Pete was terrified. You heard the gunshot echo from the phone and you hung up without a word.
Two days later Joe called and told you how beautiful it had been to watch Patrick fly away.
Spencer found you with a gun pressed to your own head. You felt the forces pulling you but you didn’t want to go. You whispered that you wouldn’t pay for the crimes of the stars, but Spencer didn’t understand. I didn’t either, but I saw your wings flex impatiently. I watched you shiver and cry with the pain of resistance.
You wouldn’t go outside anymore. Then again, most people wouldn’t. They were afraid of the choking clouds and the absence of the sun.
The world was dark and cold without its sun, but it didn’t freeze over like the scientists said it would. Nothing happened like anyone said it would.
There was no day and no night. Some people went crazy; the streets were a place of terror.
I woke to the sound of your scream, piercing my sleep and the steady night. You arched your back and turned your contorted face to the sky, pleading. Your wings seemed to faintly glow, a fire spreading slowly from the inside until they burst into flame, a gift being revoked. You writhed and thrashed, but the fire did not spread or cease. The sheets remained un-scorched as your cries brought Spencer and Jon running.
They panicked when they saw you; the pain was written clearly on your face. Then they started asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and I knew. Even now, they couldn’t see. The terrifying and beautiful sight of your wings burning was left for only me to see.
Then Spencer gasped and rushed over to you, reaching out to hold onto you, for it seemed that you were somehow fading. You flickered in and out of view, never seeming to return to a fully solid form. He tried to grasp your arm and keep your there, but you were still twisting in the grips of your agony. Eventually Spencer and Jon left, and the fire smoldered and went out, leaving just an ashen skeleton of your wings behind.
Slowly the skies cleared, revealing the fresh stars and their strange constellations. But this new sky had no sun. The night remained. The cold remained.
Some days you seemed almost normal, but still distant. Never smiling, never laughing. And there were the days you faded. When I would find you staring wistfully at the sky and your seldom heard voice was silent. Almost translucent, like a part of you was lost to the heavens. And the charred skeleton of your wings remained; a constant reminder.
I found you once, eyes closed and face upturned, arms spread. And I swear I saw your wings twitch, yearning for the skies that had forsaken you.
You didn’t feel anything anymore. A ghost, still living. It became hard to stay with you, but I did, unable to leave you so alone. You were broken. We all were.
The earth was broken, but order had been returned to the skies.