Tags: Short (Medium)
Gravel crunching beneath the tires of the car. Excited chatter among friends. Phones in hand, on our way to a party. Looking out the window at the setting sun.
The stardust billows around Our Veil. It parts for Our Envoy as it descends. Slowly. It is in no hurry to leave Our Haven. The world beyond Our Veil is not secure for Our Selves. But Our Haven is not to last much longer, regardless of the success of Our Envoy.
Parking on the street. Knocking on the door. Being let in by some guy. Noise. Wondering why I agreed to join. Tired.
Our Envoy touches the material world. It folds into a new shape. It softens, and Our Selves harden in turn. But Our Envoy is not weak.
Drinking. Turning down dances. Girls. Remembering when I would want their attention. Questioning whether I’m even here. They don’t pick up on it. Somehow.
Our Envoy arrives soon. Our Selves observe gently.
Sitting in the grass, in the backyard, watching, when the stars begin to leak like open bullet wounds. I scramble to my feet as tendrils of white-blue extend from the night sky. They curl around the necks of the other party attendees, who are completely oblivious. Am I losing my mind?
The child of flesh is curious. Our Selves shall allow it to see Our Envoy.
A girl steps out from beyond the night sky, as if she was made from it. She floats down gently. Lanterns which decorated the backyard shatter as she approaches. I stand still as she settles down on the glass-strewn lawn. The glass pierces her feet, but she pays no mind to it.
Adorned in grey silks, a weak shimmer can be seen through the black veil she wears over her face. A silver halo adorns her head. A blade rests in her hand.
“Child,” she hisses. Still, none of the attendees pay any mind to us. “My Mothers find you wanted. Take my hand.”
Without thinking, I take the hand she offers me. “Who are you?” I ask.
I receive no answer. I am gone.
Our Child is of blood. Let it join Our Selves in Our Haven. Let it grow from Our Selves in a way that Our Selves never could.