Really Short Stories!!

Purple Darkness

        Theye're behind me, closing in, their breath hot and foul, the heavy sound of their boots at odds with my rabbiting heart. I fight back my mad giggle and careen around the next corner, carefully tracking the placement of security cameras. Breathless shouts of German echo up the hallway after me as one starts for the stairs, one lush red carpeting muffling the clack of my heels.

        That's one of the problems with mansions: one big staircase instead of easy to manage stairwells.

        Once i'm off the main floor and on the carpetted halls of the residency wing (how pretensious is that?) it's easy to keep ahead of the guards, who methodically sleeps in every empty room.

        My side begins to stich on the fifth floor, blood squeezing out of my makeshift bandage when I clutch at it. It feels like a couple of broken ribs and i'm pretty sure one of them's pressing danderously on my left lung but i don't have time to deal with it.

        Despite pain and adrenaline, my hands don't shake when i pick the lock on the door leading to the roof. My vision is beginning to go black but at least my hands are steady. 

        Groaning through what might have just become a punctured lung, i heave myself up the stairs and stumble down the rough tarmac. Im barely at the edge before the doors crashing open and some very angery German's come running out, guns at ready.

        Im a little unsteady as I climb onto the ledge of the roof, my stilletos not entirly conclusive to balance.

        Jumoing from five stories isn't all that impressive. The glass domed underground ballroom below me however, might be a bit of a problem to try and land on. Plexi glass isn't as strong as these assholes seem to think.

        More German assaultes my precious hearing as i considder my options, probably something like "surrender or die" which is annoying and how most of these things end anyway.

        "Damn, I'm going to have to go all celestial being aren't I?" I roll my eyes up to the sky and try to erase the inevitable look of smug superiority on Jamie's face when he tells me what a sweet pleasure it is to be proven right.

Because, let's face it: I can't go a day without using my wings.

        "Fine, lets get this shown on the road." I roll my shoulders and let my sheilds down, peel away the layers of power holding my wings in careful check and try to pretend it's not my favorite feeling in the world; the black feathers fan out around me, sprakling through with dark purple energy and adding a taste of ozone to the brisk September air.

        The guards eye's widen comically at the sight. I throw myself backwards, curling my wings and letting myself freefall until i can see the horrified faces of the guests below. Just before i crash through the glass, I unfurl my wings and let them guide me up and away.

        Vaguely, I realize that i'm still going black, my lungs is still possibly punctured, I still can't breathe. 

And the ground is steadily getting closer.