Graceful Wings

Graceful Wings (5)

“What is this room, Nealson?” I asked as we entered a big white hall.

The room was so marvelous, I was almost speechless.

“This is the gathering hall that belongs to our dynasty,” he told me, looking proud.

“So you're royal?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he nodded, “but so is most of angels up here.”

“Wow.”

“Now, spread your wings,” he insisted.

I took few steps away from him and turned around, facing him. I closed my eyes and brought my hand up to my necklace. I grabbed my necklace into my fist, squeezing it tightly. Within a blink of an eye, my wings were visible. I opened my eyes and looked Nealson straight into the eye. His expression was priceless. His eyes were widened and his mouth hang open.

“What?” I asked him.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. He just stared at my wings. I turned my head to see if there was something wrong with my wings.

“What the fuck?” I gasped after I'd seen my wings, “These are not my wings!”

My black wings were gone. My damn wings were white, but they still had that golden undertone. I looked at the length of my white wings, they were shorter.

“I-I,” he stuttered, “These are your wings.”

“No they aren't,” I argued, “Mine aren't that short!”

“They aren't short,” he said, “They are in normal length.”

“Yes, they are short. How am I supposed to fly with those small wings?” I asked him, catching a disgusted tone in my voice.

He ignored my comment and questioned: “Why did you tell me that you were a fallen angel?”

“Because I am a fallen angel.”

“Then why you have white wings?”

“I already told you, these are not my wings. Mine are black,” I told him.

I let go of my necklace, hiding my wings.

“Hey, I didn't tell you to hide them,” he informed, “Spread them again.”

“If I spread them, may I fly around here a little?” I asked.

He simply nodded. I pushed myself up from the floor, spreading my wings again. I closed my eyes, enjoying flying again. I heard a gasp from behind me. I turned around.

“What now?” I asked him, when I saw another priceless expression of his.

“H-how d-did you do t-that?”

“Do what?” I was confused.

“How did you do that with your wings?” he pointed at my wings.

I gasped again. I got really confused. My wings were black again.

“I don't know, Nealson, I don't know,” I mumbled.

I landed on my feet, because I didn't feel like flying anymore. Nealson came closer to me.

“So you are a fallen angel?”

“Duh, I told you,” I answered.

He turned his gaze from my wings to me. “May I have a closer look at your wings?”

“Why?” I asked, “Haven't you seen fallen angel's wings?”

“I have,” he admitted, “But yours' seem different. So, may I?”