Icarus and The Magpie (Short Story)

(7) Phobos

One- two- three- 

Three- two- one-

Mercury. Barely bigger than the moon, barely a planet at all. It swings in and out of time in a vicious cycle. Tearing anything of astrological meaning in half. Wringing the stars of their destinies and devouring comets. Retrograding and refracting. Mercury is barely there at all. Mercury. A chemical, an element. A seeping, silvery blood that streaks through blackened veins deep within the earth. Deep. Where light doesn't dare tread. The darkness there is strong. Mercury is barely there at all. It dwells in the ilk of stone and takes one too many forms. 

They are all. Barely there at all. Victims of circumstance, never to inhibit human life. 

They are all-

Dangerous. 

All... a nightmare. 

All, barely there at all. As vivid as dreams.

Iris hadn't hurried in her life. But now she did. She left in such a hurry that the door to the cafe hadn't even shut fully before her feet met the parking lot. The sky was splitting in two overhead. Thunderous giants thrashed about in their bed of clouds. Pinning each other with rumbles and cracking bone with electric snaps. Iris felt horrid. She hadn't meant what she said. It was just that nothing else seemed to matter. Now that Penn was real. Now that magic was real. Everything that existed was thrown into question. In what was she awake, in what was she asleep. Even now the rain on her skin could have been rattled away. If only she dreamt it so. 

The droplets fell much slower than they should have as she ran down the block, darting across streets and disappearing under bus stops for a moments rest. Or maybe, she was moving faster. She could see their small, watery, lumpy bodies smatter against the pavement. The fall was a massacre and she wondered if their broken selves felt anything at all. If the weeping skies were hurt too. If the bleeding and tears could ever stop. She wondered who had made them this way. Iris was embarrassed for not seeing it for what it was. There was no loving the rain. Only weeping for it. Something must die, that another may live. The stairs came quick as she made for the landing to her apartment. As she reached for the door and took the brassy knob in her hand. As she entered soppy from the hidden tracks that ran from her eyes to her chin. 

She let herself in. 

"Penn?" Iris called softly. Unsure if he was still asleep. She didn't bother with the lights. Setting down the bread and heeling off her rain boots, she slumped them against the wall. On a much too used cookie sheet. Her doormat. She listened to the sigh of the air conditioner as it flicked off, and she made for the window. Letting in the storm. From up here, where the city busied below her. Where the passers-by looked more like dreading ants, anything seemed possible. Leaping could mean flying. Dreaming, made reality what it was. Iris wondered what Penn had dreamt when he remembered. Iris wondered where all those sketches had gone. And she dreaded her next shift. How could she ever repair what she had so quickly shredded of her friend Gray. 

He was simply, too close. 

So she made herself a cup of tea, minty tea. She had dried and collected the contents of each bag herself, she saved them for the most special of occasions. Today, felt like one of those days. It needed to be one of those days. This variant smelled largely of dirt and moss, with the faintest hint of mint and maybe a touch of Barley. Sometimes she would close her eyes while foraging and reach wildly into the grasses. Whatever she held in the end, always made for an interesting taste. But it was warm and ran down her throat softly. It was her mothers favorite. So it was hers. Iris sat crossed legged ahead of the window. Staring at the closed door to her room. Watching the slow change of color from one of her nightlights at its underside.