Read Online On Black Wings by Sylvia Storm - Free Book Online

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