Room for Happiness

2/03/2013 , , 0 Comments



Issachar stepped out into the snowy morning without bothering to pull on his boots. The frozen blades of grass stabbed into his bare feet like lancets. Heedless of the bloody footprints he left behind, Issachar walked out to meet the coming storm.


She had loved the snow, his Amelie. Even if she had known it would cause her death, she would have loved it still. Issachar stumbled and fell hard to his knees. Powdery snow spiraled up around him, as though an angel had landed. But he knew better. Moak's abilities were sealed and Issachar had no guardian angel of his own. Ever since the bombs had fallen thirty years ago, it seemed like no one did.
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He felt around in the snow with numb hands. One gnarled root from the willow tree by his driveway had broken through the soil. He thought to tear it from the ground, but his cold fingers refused to bend. Issachar hung his head. What did it matter anyway? It made sense that a root should foil him. The little things killed. Amelie knew that better than anyone. Issachar pulled his legs beneath him and got back to his feet.

The cold worked its way through him and fought to crush every pocket of warmth it could. Only his heart refused to quit fighting. When would it just freeze over like the rest of him? He stretched out his hands and stumbled forward. The soft bark of the willow tree bit into his palms. Issachar fell against it. The icy wind pushed against him and he struggled to catch his breath. He often slept beneath this willow tree. It would be a fine place to welcome the storm.

He lowered himself to the ground, but more roots had broken through the soil. On hands and knees he shuffled around the base of the tree. There had to be a place to rest.

A glowing chrysalis the size of his hand grew on the other side of the tree. Issachar squeezed his eyes shut, but it was still there when he opened them. It pulsed with an inner light, as though something inside were moving. A caterpillar at this time of year? He forced his body to move closer.

A seam opened on the shell and a beam of sunlight filtered out. Next came the tip of a tiny feathered wing, so delicate he thought the wind would break it off. A doll-like creature worked its way out and arched its back. The wings Issachar knew so well flared out behind it. Impossible, but it sat before him. A tiny angel. It turned his way and its eyes glimmered like tiny sparks against alabaster skin.

Issachar reached for it. Warmth exploded along his fingers and rushed through his veins. He felt his eyes closing. Sitting with Amelie had been like this. For the first time in a long time, he was content.






Wordage: caterpillar, crush
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Wordcount: 488

Sarah

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