Categories > Original > Horror
shattered glass
0 reviewsbehind the bloody bars there lay a chianed angel, and I could do naught but offer my hand...“Come” I said, my breath leaving clouds behind “I’ve got a mission for you.”
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Shattered Glass
Her wings were folded, her head bowed, her hands chained
by the wrist, and the blood forever splattered on the bars. Her hair was a mess and her wings broken and torn, her clothes soaked in blood, and her eyes forever hidden from the world. What a shame it was so see this long ago angel now broken and discarded as such. So I did the only thing I could think of, I offered my hand- and she looked up.
In her empty green eyes there shown a light, a slight flicker of hope. It looked so pathetically revolting. But, yet, I did not turn away, instead, I walked closer, my hand further stretched inside the prison. “Come”, I said, my breath leaving clouds behind “I’ve got a mission for you.” I believe that was the first time she smiled in a long time.
She no longer remembers her name she told me, ‘it’s been so long’ she had said. So here I am, wondering what to call my new servant. But every time I choose a name, something new pops up. Should I give her a pet name? I wonder as she runs around the garden. Her wings stretched our behind her as if she will take flight at the slightest sign of danger. I smile sadly in her direction, such a pathetically sad being she is, but I really have no right to say so in such a degrading manner, after all, I am no better.
She trips over a little rock by the river and slowly gets back up, her eye blinking in a sad confusion and happiness. Her hair hides her right eye, and I am exceptionally glad for that, for I had heard that it was stabbed and the remaining pieces ripped out. But as she sat there, her wings curling around her as she starred at the rock, a name came to mind. And so I called “come here, Shattered Glass” it was then that she smiled once more, “yes master.”
Her wings were folded, her head bowed, her hands chained
by the wrist, and the blood forever splattered on the bars. Her hair was a mess and her wings broken and torn, her clothes soaked in blood, and her eyes forever hidden from the world. What a shame it was so see this long ago angel now broken and discarded as such. So I did the only thing I could think of, I offered my hand- and she looked up.
In her empty green eyes there shown a light, a slight flicker of hope. It looked so pathetically revolting. But, yet, I did not turn away, instead, I walked closer, my hand further stretched inside the prison. “Come”, I said, my breath leaving clouds behind “I’ve got a mission for you.” I believe that was the first time she smiled in a long time.
She no longer remembers her name she told me, ‘it’s been so long’ she had said. So here I am, wondering what to call my new servant. But every time I choose a name, something new pops up. Should I give her a pet name? I wonder as she runs around the garden. Her wings stretched our behind her as if she will take flight at the slightest sign of danger. I smile sadly in her direction, such a pathetically sad being she is, but I really have no right to say so in such a degrading manner, after all, I am no better.
She trips over a little rock by the river and slowly gets back up, her eye blinking in a sad confusion and happiness. Her hair hides her right eye, and I am exceptionally glad for that, for I had heard that it was stabbed and the remaining pieces ripped out. But as she sat there, her wings curling around her as she starred at the rock, a name came to mind. And so I called “come here, Shattered Glass” it was then that she smiled once more, “yes master.”
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