I can see them out of the corner of my eye; the kids, they watch me with curious eyes.
I'm kneeling in my flower bed, picking flowers and herbs to make into tea later.
The summer air is warm and crisp, with a slight breeze and chill as we approach fall.
I hum softly to myself, a tune my mother taught me when I was young; when she was still alive. I still remember those days, sitting on her lap as she sang to me in a soft voice that would lull me to sleep. I miss her. I miss my father too, even though I don't remember him much, he passed when I was really young. Mother said he was a good man, she loved him very dearly, so I do too.
I remember she taught me how to garden, she showed me when things were ready to harvest and what is safe to eat. She was a very wise women. She loved me and I loved her.
It broke me when I had to leave, or when I was forced away. But that's a story for another day.
Right now I glance up, the kids have left and the sun has started to set. I sigh softly and get to my feet. I brush the dirt off my red velvet dress and turn towards my small cottage on the top of the hill.
I carry the basket full of flowers and herbs in my arms, i walk quickly but carefully up the path to my home.
Inside is full of plants, dried herds, bottles and crystals. There are multiple books laying around, all of them on something related to witches; study of space and stars, herbs and other plants, crystals and their meaning. I have a lot of books, most I have inherited from my late mother.
I set the basket on the counter and head up the oak stairs. At the top is two bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the rooms -my room- has a bathroom attached while the other is a guest room.
I enter my room, the smell of incense lingering in the air. I enter the bathroom where I stop in front of the full length mirror. I reach up and remove the flower crown that was gifted to me by one of the village kids. I set it to the side, in a basket with all the others that I've been given over the years.
I run my fingers through my long, wavy brown hair. I push it behind my shoulders and tie it back in a bun.
I take one last look, fixing my dress before turning and leaving my bathroom and out of my bedroom. I walk back down the stairs. I grab a bag from the living room, I sling it over my shoulder. I glance up at the clock; it says a quarter past eleven.
The night air is cold, making me shiver. I should have worn a coat. I push though, not wanting to turn back as I head down the path, this time toward the beach; to the cave where the five kids went missing.
They were good kids, very good kids. No one knows what happened to them, not even me. Well, that's kind of a lie, I have an idea because of what I found in that cave.
I get down there. When I walk in, my heels click against the stone floor. It's warmer down here, the cave shields out the cold. There's a torch on the wall, one that has never burned out, some kind of magic even I don't fully understand.
At the back there are two metal, rusting cells. There's a corridor off to the right side that is much too dark for even me to venture down. Besides, I'm much more interested in the cells, or what is in one of the cells.
I set my bag down on a makeshift stone table against the left wall. Above the table are ruins that have been scratched into the stone.
I turn my attention to the cell and to the floor where, just like the past nights, lay curled in a ball, what I assume to be an angel man. I carefully approach him. He faces away from me. He is alive, I can see his body shifting ever so slightly as his chest rises and falls from his steady breathing. He hasn't move at all from where he lay the past few nights. His eyes are always closed and his mouth. His white feathered wings lay behind him, still, cold and un-moving. His skin is pale and color-less, a grey tone.
I don't know how long he's been here, but I would say quite a while.
I crouch down, gently reaching out and placing my hand on the angels feathers. They are cold to the touch and stiff. His body is tense and so, so cold.
His feathers are soft as I run my fingers through them.
he doesn't make a sound. He never has and I'm afraid he never will.
The blood on his fingers have dried. I'm afraid to think what its from even if there's only one answer, the obviouse one.
I touch the angels back. He still doesn't move.
He has cloths; simple but elegent. They are dirty and have a few tears and of course, more blood. I shiver.
I grab a damp cloth and gently take one of his hands. I wipe the red stain off his hands, watching his ever move, careful not to wake the sleeping being.
The ground is uncomfortable as I kneel there, my dress providing very little padding between my skin and the hard, cold, stone ground of the cell.
I finish wiping down his hands. I toss the rag away.
I sigh. I run my fingers through his grey hair. It's soft and he doesn't move.
I can hear the wind picking up outside. It howls against the mouth of the cave like a monster searching for it's prey. I sigh and wrap my arms around myself. God I wish I went back for a coat.
I stand and walk over to my bag. Inside I have a blanket, some snacks and drinks, some crystals, a book on mushrooms and a lighter.
A gust of wind blows into the cave. I shiver. I glance over at the angel. His feather tremble from the cold. I pull the blank from my bag and walk back over to the still creature. I kneel down beside him and gently lay the blanket over his body. I gently tuck the sides in.
Taking a step back, I grab my bag. I move to the corner that slightly sheltered from the cold wind blowing into the cave.
I brush any rocks away and sit down. I watch the angel for a few seconds before grabbing my book from my bag and flipping to the page I left off on.
I read silently, the only sound being the howls of the wind and groans from the trees as the wind rages against and around the old trees.
I wait for the wind to die down a bit before I can go home. The wind rages on, the rain starting; thunder booming and lightning flashes. The torch on the wall flickers, the wind dancing with the flame which never goes out.
I continue to read until I end up dozing off in the cave on the stone floor in the rusted cell next to a ever sleeping angel.
I had a bit of writers block while writing the end but I got it!
ns3.141.167.59da2
