drabblegrrl

“Anyway, these are extraordinary, much more than the usual stone.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn. He noticed.

“So sorry.” His perfect British accent made him sound even snider than he intended. “Am I boring you?”

“Yes, quite frankly. You’ve been droning on for an hour!” She ran her fingers through the bowl of sparkling gems, and scowled as he smacked her hand.

“Dammit, woman. Leave off. They’re not yours.”

“Oh, but they are,” she muttered, her fist closing tightly around several hundred stones. She turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness. She tripped, cursing, and the diamonds spilled from her grip and lifted up into the sky, becoming inseparable from the stars that lit the night.

The gun went off. The officer sighed. It’s always so easy, he thinks to himself. He walked on toward the camp, creating the story he would tell the others this time.

As he approached the camp, he began to notice the eerie silence all around him. No sounds. No conversational bits drifting up to his ears, not even birdsong. His footsteps suddenly loud and he slowed, trying to match the silence.

From behind him, a bright flash, as if the sun went supernova. He spun, but the light burned and his eyes snapped shut before he could see anything more than the vague figure of a woman.

A woman? Here?

She spoke, her words like fire in his ears. “No more.”

He vanished on the spot, and no trace of him or the camp remained.

A loud crack rang out. Red spattered across the room, pooling at the baseboards, dripping off the counter. Tiny glass shards glittered in the sink. Tiny, frightened eyes met their own reflection as her mother’s voice reached her ears: “Are you alright in there?”

She considered her answer carefully. “Kinda.”

Her mother’s face appeared. A smile spread. “Oh, my.” The sight of her daughter, covered in polish, lipstick smeared across her face, eyeshadow and eyeliner darkly spread over her eyelids, was the most beautiful thing she’d laid eyes on all day.

“Am I in trouble?” the tiny trembling voice asked.

“No. We’ll clean this up together.”

Two hours and much giggling later, they cuddled on the couch, watching their favourite movie together. “Today is a nice day,” she muttered. Her mother nodded, kissing the top of her head; “Every day we spend together is a nice day.”

She picked up the leaf as the tree fell like a tear from her eye; a tear they never see and wouldn’t understand even if they did. The blood moved through her like ice, cold in her veins, slow and sluggish though her heart pounded rapid in her chest.

Moving like honey, dodging their eyes, avoiding their ears, she struck like lightening. Giving up her life in a bright flash they never saw coming. One of many.

They left the forest. Unable to start machines there. Blades dull before touching wood there. Haunted, they said. And maybe now it is.

The little boy walked into the room, his eyes drawn to it, laying there on the edge of the counter, gleaming in the midday sun. It seemed to whisper to him, calling him. He shook his head, knowing it was forbidden, but the feeling persisted. He walked forward til his nose brushed the countertop.

His hand reached up, slowly. He could feel its heat and was frightened, but continued. His fingers brushed it, and he was startled to find it’s surface soft. He touched it, lifting it off the counter, wrapping his fingers around it.

Wings burst from his back! He gasped, then threw his head back and laughed long and loud. He raced out the front door, and flew up and away into the brilliant blue sky.