My wings were made of silk. They shimmered in natural glory – thinner than paper, lighter than air. Each evening Mummy would handwash and steam them, enhancing their blinding glow, as Mummy adored my wings. She said they were ‘just like my father’s’ – a man I never knew. She said I had ‘his adamant gaze’ – one of eyes I had never seen. She says those eyes saw the failure in her, so that’s why she’s alone and that’s why she has to look after my wings. She wanted me to meet him one day. 

He was a tall man – strongly built, firm faced. Nothing contrasted more than my father to his delicate wings, the spitting image of my own. Although frayed at the edges from use, they had the same enviable beauty – I could see why Mummy came back to him, but I couldn’t comprehend why she stayed. My place was at the window – staring at melted horizons, listening to a household of screams. Cries of a woman I barely recognised, her cotton wings bedraggled, who tip-toed across the corridors by night and sat, lips pursed, by day. 

I didn’t know this woman, but I wanted to understand her again. Every evening, as the sunset stained my wings crimson for a mere few minutes, I would cut them down to ever smaller pieces until I would never fly again. Eventually, my wings were mere tatters. There was nothing left to shred. My purpose filled, I clambered to the rooftop – shuffled to the edge. I felt the winds tug at my strips of ribbon, bandages behind me, a cape to my fall. And as I fell, those ribbons dragged me more and more, tangling round my neck, my wrists, my face – until they didn’t. Until a strip of ribbon fell from my eyes, and I could see the horizon again. I could feel a warmth round my torso, small hands pulling me in. I looked up to see my mother, a patchwork butterfly, a soaring fledging of her own creation, taking me, taking us, into the blinding sun and beyond. 

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Sandra James
Sandra James (@sandra-james)
7 months ago

An intriguing and sad story, Izara, with a wonderful, satisfying ending. I do love that last sentence – beautiful. Well done 🙂

Emily O'Leary
Emily O'Leary (@emily-oleary)
7 months ago

Bittersweet and emotional, Izara.

I agree with your previous comment, there is a certain beauty to the painful parts of life, and you captured this in such a unique way. Very well written!

Eric Radcliffe
Eric Radcliffe (@eric-radcliffe)
7 months ago

Welcome to the Voice club Izara. It is an interesting view you have of life, in that the most beautiful things occur, when there are sad things happening. To me the only beauty in the painful things, are the lesson that they teach, or the life changing lessons we can learn from them. Nevertheless, this is a wonderfully expressive piece of writing, Well done Izara.

Christer Norrlof
Christer Norrlof (@christer-norrlof)
7 months ago

I like how you put wings on every individual in your story, Izara, and you describe them in a wonderful way.
It seems as though everybody in your story originally had the same potential, and maybe goal, in their lives, being equipped with wings.
The ending is sad, but appears to be the logical consequence of what happens.

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Linda Rock
Linda Rock (@linda-rock)
7 months ago

The words ‘I would cut them down to ever smaller pieces until I would never fly again’ says so much about your story. Life can be very cruel and it’s so sad that children have to suffer through no fault of their own. A well written story Izara, very emotional.

Lotchie Carmelo
Lotchie Carmelo (@lotchie-carmelo)
7 months ago

Your story is very sad and seems to have touched my heart, Izara. I was amazed at the way you expressed it to us which penetrated my heart and mind. Life is really cruel sometimes. But I like the ending of your story very satisfying. Well done.

A warm welcome to the Voice club.

Carrie OLeary
Carrie OLeary (@carrie-oleary)
7 months ago

Hi Izara and welcome to Voice club. Your tale has a sad but beautiful quality to it and flows well. Well done.

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