She ate cotton candy the same pink as her lips, watching the
world fall into patterns below her perch on those indigo clouds. Her alabaster feet were reigned in
blood red shoes with spiked heels that, if she were to stand on one foot and
close an eye, would poke holes in the chaos below.
She
had doll’s eyes, a deep blue like the sea, that rolled back against her black
eyelashes which crawled around those discs like beautiful bugs in amber. They stayed narrowed and calculative as
her tapered fingers, the tips so elegantly painted in chipping, army green,
brought the wispy sugar to her mouth and back down the expanse of it lying
across her thin lap.
It
was slightly cold and she shivered, pulling her cardigan more tightly around
her shoulders. She thought wildly
and with an abandon known only to the insane as she began to hum. It was broken, beautifully so. The kind of voice that was honey
wrapped in lies, deep in her throat, and if you listened carefully, if you were
willing to waste an hour, you’d hear every sound. Every baby’s cry and every lover’s whisper, because there
were secrets, but for every one there was an answer.
Song
ripped from her elegant throat with the broken wings of a dove flying home to
its perch at the end of this world and the beginning of a stranger one. The cloud was white and fluffy, the
planet below her inconsequential compared to the sight of the stars. She reached out and grabbed one,
tucking it in her pocket and smiling broadly at the light it shone through the
fabric. It was a lovely sight, a
bright white light of pure and utter happiness held so gently in her hand. There were options, she thought with
conviction.
With
a star in her pocket and candy on her wicked tongue she realized the world was
in her hands as obviously as the star she kept on such a short leash in her pocket. Surely both could fly? If we fail this time it will be for a
lack of imagination, her heart beat wildly in her chest and she heard it in her
ears. A simple reminder that being
human was what allowed her to stand in such a place and watch this universe
fall asleep in the summer sun.
If
we fail this time there is no hope for the forgotten after us. The misfits. We’ve fucked up bigger and better than any race or any smile
before us. We’re so
beautiful. But we will not fail,
she agreed, settling farther into the marshmallow clouds on her perch above the
world. We will not fail because,
this time, we hold the world in our palms. She picked the last cotton wisps from the cardboard stick
and licked a finger. Laughing with
the hysterics of the damned, she tossed it off the edge and watched as it fell,
with every passing second, toward the round ball of blue and green that seemed
too boring and convoluted pressed against the back drop of Everything. Her voice cut through the air and
universe like a knife, traveling at the speed of light to the crevices and the
twists we could never find, and back to her. “We’ve never been afraid before.”
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