On Black Wings

by Storm, Sylvia

  Who are these people anyways? What do they want with me? Why capture me? If I was some sort of demon, wouldn’t they just kill me on the spot when they had the chance? Why bring me here?

  A man screams in the distance. It’s a horrible, blood-curdling scream of agony. I back up a step when I hear it and close my eyes. I can feel the pain in this man’s pleas deep in my wing-roots. He screams again and I can’t bear it.

  Please, just do what - I can’t, I can’t listen to him being tortured. Wherever you are, whoever you are, please, I wish you find peace and deliverance.

  God, please, find some way to help this poor man. God please, you can ignore all my other prayers, and just give me this one. For him.

  Nothing. Another scream echoes, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I will leave this one in your hands, God. Please.

  How do I get out of here?

  There’s some question here I don’t have the answer to, some meaning I am painfully unaware of. It feels like something everyone else can do that you can’t, you just sit there hating on it and getting frustrated, and you scream and give up in disgust. There’s some trick to this, some knack that everyone else gets that I don’t, and I’m sitting here making a fool of myself crying and not getting it, and just making it hard for everyone else around me.

  Just like computer camp.

  Oh God, I hated computer camp. I swear I would sit in front of that machine with my assignment and just cry my guts out until someone felt sorry enough to come over and help me. I was terrible, just a total pussy about the whole thing. Nobody could stand me either, and only Brad had the patience enough to help me through it.

  Brad.

  It’s where I met him, and we got to know each other those long hours spent next to each other as he helped me from freaking out. If it weren’t for computer camp, I would have never met him. I wish he were here, with his nerdy glasses, hunky body, and good-boy looks. I miss him so much.

  What if were possible to go to him?

  What if I could control this, just like I worked through stupid BASIC programming at computer camp? I step away from the window as a guard walks by. I press myself against the wall, calm myself, and think.

  I can do this.

  Men’s voices echo in the hall in a language I don’t understand, and the sounds of knights drawing closer make my heart race. Another scream echoes out from the poor man somewhere, am I next? I need to do this now.

  I wrap my wings around myself and think, about home, about my children, and Brad. I need to go home now, before this ever happened. I need to stop this, to save everyone I ever loved. I focus, just like learning computers and math and biology and every other subject I hated in school. I focus on Shakespeare and Bach and Issac Newton, and try to remember everything my teachers said to me in class but I was too busy texting, playing games, and ignoring their words for a few laughs.

  I try and master this like I ignored all that.

  Oh God, why did I ever ignore all this stuff in class? How come nothing ever comes easy to me? I hear the footsteps draw closer, and a key is slipped into the lock. The sounds of crossbows being drawn back sends chills down my spine. I need to get out of here now, but how do I do this?

  Relax. Focus. Give up on my frustrations. Take it slow. Think about nothing else. Give in to the feeling, give in to learning. Shove every other selfish thought from my messed-up head. Focus. Calm myself.

  Think. Absorb the feeling. Give in to the lesson. Trust my teachers. They know what’s best. Refuse to be frustrated, go back over it, ask for help. Repeat this over and over until I get it.

  Wisps of blackness cloud me thoughts. Visions of places I’ve never been. Thoughts on veils of black smoke trailing through innumerable possibilities and places. A face, I see a face. One I recognize. I turn and weave and wrap myself tightly in the strands of time.

  I get it.

  CHAPTER X:

  In Darkness I Fly

  I unwrap my wings from myself.

  The skies are gray, and a light snow begins to fall. It’s not snow, it’s ash. I’m on the lawn to my house. My car is in the garage. The front walk is empty. My older self may have just gotten home. More ash begins to fall.

  I know this story.

  I walk towards my front door, sheathing my black wings behind myself. I walk with purpose, faster and faster, I want to know where I am, what time it is, where my older self is right now, where my children are, where Brad is.

  I search the pockets of my shorts, no house keys. Just my dead phone. Of course I wouldn’t have any house keys, I didn’t have them when I went to bed. This was my parent’s house then, before we bought it and moved back in. They never really trusted me with the keys when I was growing up, and I felt like such a prisoner here. I’m just a teenager who doesn’t know better.

  I strike the thought from my mind.

  I do know better.

  I reach for the door handle, but it swings open in front of me. Timothy and Clarissa are dressed up to play in the snow, their eyes wide with anticipation, their smiles bright and happy. I want to cry when I see them. They look at me in shock, and I scoop the two of them up in my arms before they run outside.

  No, you’re not.

  I place them down and slam the door shut.

  I point at them, and they begin to cry. “Stay! Do not go outside!”

  They run away from me, afraid. “Daddy! Daddy! Some girl grabbed us and brought us inside! We can’t play in the snow!”

  My heart breaks again. Don’t they recognize their own mother? Am I that much of a stranger to them?

  “Excuse me, who are-” It’s myself, my older self, and she’s standing on the other end of the front hall looking at me. I look in my eyes. “You know who this is.”

  I storm past her, my black wings pushing her into the stairwell, chasing my…her kids. “Brad! Don’t let them out the back door!”

  “Sure thing Hun, what is so wrong?” Brad has them both in his arms, and he’s sitting them at the kitchen table. “You two listen to your mother.” He looks up at me and his jaw drops.

  “Jess? Is that you Jess?”

  He used to call me Jess back in high school.

  “Oh crap.” Brad blinks as the older me appears behind myself from the hall. “Jessica? Two?”

  “What, who are you?” the older me says from behind me. “These wings, you have wings, what’s with this, why are they black? Is this some sort of joke?”

  I turn to her, angry, “This is happening because you messed up your life! Sit down and shut up!”

  “Jess?” Brad walks over. “Jess is that you? Oh my God, what is going on?”

  “This isn’t me Brad, it’s some stupid kid!” My older self pulls out her cell phone. “It’s a costume. I’m calling the cops.”

  Gee, thanks.

  I knew I could never trust myself.

  “Listen to me both of you!” Jesus Christ why does this have to be so hard? “People are going to die today! This is some sort of natural disaster! Come with me.”

  The kids begin to get up. I point at them and say in my best stern and motherly voice. “You two sit there until mommy comes for you, am I clear?”

  They begin to cry, but dammit, I am not taking any crap from my kids today.

  “You have no right speaking to my children that way!” My older self is protesting, dialing on her phone. “Brad, get her out of here, she’s scaring the children! Miss, you better leave now before the cops come, you are way out of line coming in my house!”

  “Miss,” Brad says, grabbing my arm, his eyes flashing recognition when he gets close to me, “Miss, I’m sorry, I know you thought this was funny, but you have to go.”

  “Brad, listen to me. Tell myself over there to listen too. Come on, come with me!”

  “I am not you, Missy!” Myself dials her cell phone, gets a busy signal and scowls at me. “Brad get her out of my sight! 9-1-1 is not working. Get her out of my house!”

  I walk to the front door, wrestl
ing away from Brad. He follows me, likely making sure I get out of the house. Dammit, when I need people to trust me, nothing ever works. It’s not like I have time to get to know my future self and discuss this calmly, I just saved my kids and likely the rest of them. Dammit, I can be so unappreciative and bull-headed at times.

  I open the front door. “Look!”

  Brad tries to step past me, but I put a hand on his chest. “No, don’t go out! Just look.”

  The Tanner’s red minivan coasts to a stop across the street, its window open, Mr. Tanner sitting in the driver’s seat, his arm still out of the window, his body a solid pile of ash. His baseball cap falls through his head as it melts away in a cloud of soot, his death-like smile shattering in a clatter of bones from his teeth falling away.

  Just like I remember it.

  I feel the tears again. “People are dying! There’s something wrong with the sun, the ozone layer, something! Please listen to me and look!”

  Brad’s mouth is open, he is breathing short breaths, and his eyes are wide. “My God. Bill. Bill’s dead? My God.”

  He looks down at me, his face a mask of fear. “How did you know? How did you know?”

  “Brad. I love you. I don’t know what’s happening with me, it’s like I’m living a nightmare. I have these wings, I’m young again, and I’m reliving a lot in my life I wish I could have changed. I’m seeing other things too I can’t explain, places, dark places I know I have to go to. People are hunting me wherever I go.”

  We hear the back patio door slide open, and I bolt towards the back of the house as fast as I can, screaming at the top of my lungs. “No!”

  I’m too late.

  The future me and my two children are swirling away in a pile of ash on the back lawn, her cell phone hitting the ground, the bright cinders of the three of them blowing away in the wind.

  So that’s how I die.

  The cell phone is still on as it buries itself in ashes, saying, “Miss? Miss? Stay inside-”

  I’m on the floor again, collapsing in exhaustion and shock, my black wings flayed out across my living room.

  “Oh my God.” Brad walks in and collapses next to me in shock. He screams and howls a cry I never heard from him before. “No God no!”

  I’m shaking my head. I can’t believe I’d do this to myself. I’m so stupid. Brad buries his face on one of my wings on the floor, hunched over in agony, and sobbing uncontrollably.

  “No, God, no.”

  Now it’s his turn to cry.

  CHAPTER XI:

  My Heart Left Before His

  He’s a hollow man.

  The ash continues to fall outside, piling up on the windowsill, people likely dying by the thousands or millions at the moment. Yet only one life means anything to me right now, Brad’s.

  He sits across the table from me, broken, his eyes gaunt, and his expression lost. He’s crying, tissues wadded up and strewn about, his hand on his forehead, while repeating the same words over and over again.

  “God, why God?”

  I can’t help to feel bad for the man I loved, even though I can’t love him, not like this. But I can’t help to love him as the man who I shared my life with, my soul-mate, and to watch him waste away tears my heart out.

  Again.

  Somehow I feel so jaded and hurt that I’m done crying.

  Forever.

  “Brad?” I speak, it’s so quiet that I don’t need to speak very loud. “Brad, please.”

  He looks up at me, eyes bloodshot, his face lost in the depths of sorrow. “Why do you look like my wife?”

  “I’m not your wife, not yet,” I say, reaching for his hand but he backs away, “I’m Jessica before me met, maybe just before. It’s hard for me to see you like this, I told myself not to go out there, to keep the kids inside, but she wouldn’t listen. I can’t control my own actions.”

  The realization hits me like a hammer. No, I’ve never been able to. I’m my own worst enemy.

  “You warned us, why?” His eyes slowly blink, staring at me. “How?”

  “Brad, maybe I’m an angel now, maybe that’s why I’m here. I died or something and now I’m doomed to wander the Earth and warn people about this.”

  I really don’t know, I’m guessing as much as he is.

  He doesn’t move a hair and keeps staring at me. “But you, you could walk outside. Why?”

  I rub my eyes. “I don’t know. I just found this out today. I know you can’t, and now I know the older me can’t. There was some, there was some horse that came up to the back door, it should have been here by now. It took me away from here, I ended up in some diner downtown.”

  “On a horse?” His voice is low, gravelly. “And those wings? Why do you have wings? Why are they black?”

  “I don’t know.” I want to be honest with him, I move my mouth but I can’t explain why I changed or why I’m changing. “Brad, I don’t know. Don’t you remember waking up with me this morning? Did I faint in the bathroom? Did you see anything on my back? Scars?”

  “No I-” He stops, rubbing his tear-filled eyes in agony. “Wait, I don’t know, it’s a haze. I remember us talking when we got up, something about you having nightmares. I calmed, wait, yes-”

  “It feels so fuzzy.” He stares at me. “I remember the scars, yes. I remember you fainting, but after that, I don’t know. I remember you getting up, and saying you’re fine, and I don’t know why but it’s hazy after that and I remember accepting it and damn, forgetting about the whole thing.”

  He draws a long breath. “If you had scars like that I was going to take you to the hospital. But I didn’t? Something, I don’t know, something made me act like this was a normal day. Like I was going to call you in, drop the kids off, and let you go. Damn, Jess, how come I feel so, so drugged or fuzzy about all this?”

  “Something-” I grab his hands. They are so warm, so good to feel in my hands. “There’s something messed up, I don’t know, maybe with time. Like that TV show, Time Wizard. Where I’m from one time, and going between two or more, and we can’t figure out why. Maybe I came back as my older self, and I started to change, and you seen the scars, but I left and time is trying to fix itself by making the right things happen.”

  “Jess I-” He’s a fan of the show just like me, we watch it together on Sunday nights. “What do you mean?”

  I squeeze his hands tighter, and this is really the only explanation I have. A campy British television show is my only frame of reference and way to explain things, great. “As humans we can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening to us if time is messed up. We could be in more than one place at a time. We could be crossing paths from different times. It’s why I’m younger, there’s something wrong with the younger me, I don’t know, I’m just guessing here.”

  “As humans we can’t do this,” he says, pulling my hands towards him, “then what are you? Are you real? What’s with the wings? How did you know? How did you get here? Is this a joke?”

  I don’t have any answers, so I drop my head on the table. “Listen, Brad, I have no idea. Maybe it’s not different times, maybe it’s different worlds. I don’t know what I am.”

  He lets my hands go. He’s quiet. He speaks as if the words choke him up. “You, and the kids are dead. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

  I look up at him, slowly. “How am I supposed to deal with this?”

  He stares right through me. “Is it always about you?”

  “Jesus, Brad, why now?” I slap the table. “This isn’t a fight. Do you think I like watching myself die? The kids? Not being able to do anything about it? This is the second time-”

  His expression changes.

  “The second time?” He gets up, his face like stone. “The second time? What the hell, Jess?”

  “You are so unfair-”

  “So this is about fair?” He’s hysterical. “Fair to who, you? How about fair to me? How about that? You can just wish yourself away, can’t you? Well, why don’t
you do just that, wish yourself away to a happier time where it’s just you, and you don’t have to worry about kids you never wanted to have-”

  I stand, I’m not thinking but I stand. The tears are flowing down my face but I don’t even know they are there. I’m moving my mouth but the words aren’t coming out.

  Brad is staring me down. I retreat, bumping into our floor lamp, stepping back with every step he makes towards me. “B-Brad.”

  “You did this. Maybe you are some angel of death making this happen.” He speaks with his teeth flat together. “Maybe this is your wish coming true.”

  He’s a different man, full of hatred and not the Brad I know. I’m searching his eyes, trying to find a reason for why this is happening, for something I did, for something. I don’t know.

  I just don’t know anymore.

  He’s walking towards me, and stops when I hit the wall. He’s not even crying, his eyes hollow, and his expression gaunt. He moves his lips like he has something to add to his assault, the muscles on his neck spasming, and his left eye fluttering.

  I turn away. I don’t, I don’t know this man.

  I hide behind my wing, in the corner of the living room, crying my guts out. How could he turn on me? Why? I’m wiping my nose on my shirt and sniffling. I’m just so confused, and adrift in a sea of lost emotions.

  “Why don’t you just keep hiding?” His voice trails off. “No, no help-”

  Why does he have to keep hurting me?

  What did I do?

  I rest my head against the wall. Does he hate me that much? Does he think I hate the kids? I loved them, I love them, and I’ll do anything to bring them back.

  Even sacrifice myself.

  I peer out. Brad’s head is against the patio door, looking out at the ash falling like snow, his face lit by a pale shade of gray. He’s not moving, just pressing against the glass, and his hands are like spiders as he tries to bring back things dead to him.

  He’s given up on me.

  Do you hit a blind person who strikes out at you because they are afraid? Do you gag a patient in pain so much they can’t stop screaming? Or do you just let the sorrow settle into your heart, step back, and do the best you can to give them comfort from a distance?