Writing Prompts Week 4 2021-Story

Prompt: The Northern lights, angels, marshmallow

The blue and green lights streaked upwards like ethereal walls in the sky.

“Are you here for me?” The small woman asked, looking up at the creature. The snow white skin looked like an extension of the landscape. The antlers could be branches on the black bare trees.

The regal head inclined slightly. The briefest of bobs. She had not expected even that much. Her back was to a tree, the rough bark the only thing holding her up right now. She had walked for days to get here. Right here. This very spot and it filled her heart with awe and pain. Her visions had been true. Here was the last peaceful place on earth. The night sky danced with colors and the snow reflected them faithfully. She stared at them as the snow drifted down over her.

She was born after the invasion and had never seen the clear sky before. Now she saw the stars, just as her mother told her they would be, the prickle and twinkle of lights in the night sky, not the dirty smudge of the heavy clouds. The northern lights were even more beautiful than her dreams.

And now the angel before her. Its body smooth and hard as marble, bare to the elements but with no sign that it felt the icy wind or the bite of the snow that fell around it. It had no wings, but she knew it was an angel. Its beauty was terrible beyond words, and her soul trembled just to look at it. On its head was a rack of antler, black as the night and sharp as thorns. Her heart ached to touch it.

“As a child,” she said, feeling the cold seem slowly into her body, driving the life from her limbs. “I thought snow would be sticky and sweet like marshmallows.” She told the creature. “But it is soft and gently like frozen feathers.” She said. Looking up again, she saw the world swim in her eyes, tears freezing as soon as they hit her cheek.

“They are your feathers,” she breathed and the cloud of her breath drifted away and dispersed.

“Come,” it said. It held out a pale white hand, tipped by sharp black nails. “Come and we will discuss.” The voice made her tremble. It was rich and full and sounded like shattered silver bells at the same time.

She took the offered hand, but she did not. There was no hand to reach with, but still she stood, feeling a brief tug as the last ties to her humanity severed.

“I would like that,” she said.

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