An unsettling chill planted itself over the colorful field, clouds making home in the sky. Flowers faded and began to wither as the sun hid away. Rocks seem to grow sharper in their place, but not weathering any to reach that state. The winds howled and pushed unrelentlessly at anything in its path. Bees and birds hid away in their homes, making no sound. Wolves and deer collaborated with each other just to escape the sudden darkness and instability of the field.
An angel, wings blackened and clipped, sat with the flowers. Its hands grasped its arms as it sobbed. It couldn't reach the sun in this weather. It couldn't actually even lift itself off the ground on any occasion. The flowers around it couldn't even give the angel false joy, as they were dullened by the loss of the sun. The angel stood, a sudden hope arising in them, and they ran and jumped only to fall down the hill, wings beating uselessly and feet aching and bloodied from the prior attempts. The angel cried out, screaming its disappointment in its wings. It grabbed at pebbles and hurled them towards the clouds, with no success in clearing them. Then, in a fit of despair, the angel sat lost on how to escape the seemingly endless flower field and its rainy day.
Eventually the angel began to make stuff of the flowers surrounding it, a flower crown, bracelets of vines and flower stems. Things that distracted it from the distance it would need to travel to have a chance of escaping. Yet, the rainy days would always stop the angel, the rain made it hard for the angel to want to walk instead it would sit and wait for the rain to stop, however long that would take. At least the rain caused the angel to get some rest, as much as the angel despised it.Rest is what helped the angel continue on. The things the angel made with the flowers also helped it. When the angel's flower crown or vine bracelets would begin to wilt it would discard them and make replacements. It's not like it hurt the flower field for the angel to do this, it actually helped more flowers to grow, though the angel wasn't aware of that.
The angel walked and walked, but it never seemed to get anywhere.Its legs throbbing worse and worse with every step. A fog formed, blocking the angel's view of what's ahead. In the angel's pain and distress it began to cry, a horrid and broken cry, though no tears fell from its eyes. The angel just heaved and wailed, wanting an end to its terrible situation.
The angel grew to believe that any attempts of escaping this once gorgeous place were futile and a waste of breath. What would be the point of escaping when it couldn't fit in anywhere anyways, it couldn't fly like those who were once its friends. It was going to be alone no matter where it disappeared to, so why bother trying at all?
YOU ARE READING
the writings of someone
Randomidk, stuff I write varying from complete fantasy to stuff that hides my thoughts and vents in them it's angsty stuff sometimes read with cation
