Zadown Posted July 20, 2003 Report Posted July 20, 2003 Another streak of fire clawed it's way across the sky. It crackled and hissed, then passed below him, beyond hearing. He took a long swig and put the bottle away. A slight shudder went through him as he turned his beautiful face heavenwards, let a perfect smile illuminate his handsome features. Moving in small overly controlled measures of a drunk he made himself more comfortable on his high perch, paid close attention to his wings after he almost knocked his bottle down. It'd be hard to find this stuff soon. A blackened corpse fell wreathed in crimson flames, hugging itself with blackened bones that used to be arms and hands. It passed closer than the previous one, let the dying wind carry the smell of charred flesh and burnt feathers. He picked the bottle again with meticulous care, savouring the feel of the bottle in his hand, the weight and reality of it. Clear liquid sloshed inside the bottle as he raised it to his lips, took another slug. The shudder was more pronounced this time and he did not even try to supress it. He let his eyes close, tried to feel the bricks under him, behind him through the white silk of his robes. Opening his eyes slowly, he turned his focus on the vivid cerulean blue of the sky ahead, deliberately not looking straight up. Across his field of vision two new ones fell, locked in a final struggle. The fire had burnt out all differences - what remained was two brothers in embrace dropping down from the sky, blackened eyesockets fixed on the rapidly approaching earth, gaping mouths opened in a final mute protest to the unfairness of it all. They vanished, left only some ash adrift in the wind. Soon it'd be all over. He hung down his noble head, stared at his own knees through half-closed eyelids. The bottle made a startling 'clunck' noise as it hit the top of the chimney. He devoured the noise, listened to it with the hunger of somebody who knows there will be no more feasts. When it had disappeared utterly he took a look at the bottle, made the tiniest of shrugs and drank the rest. Sadness creeped over his face when he finished. Looking down to the far-away ground, he let the bottle fall.
Ayshela Posted July 20, 2003 Report Posted July 20, 2003 wow... i'm far too tired right now to have anything meaningful to say, but i didn't want this to pass unnoticed. very vivid, and thought provoking.
Rhapsody Posted July 28, 2003 Report Posted July 28, 2003 You write so vividly yet so simply that the images you create linger in the mind. Feels like a dream. Enigmatic, disturbing, melancholy, perhaps theological? Interesting how you conveyed a sense of paradox. I assumed the narrator was an angel as you described wrings, yet inebriated. Drunk angel.
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