Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,10

fear I’ve been left here to rot until I’m ashes and bones, so I’m starting to think I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Even if it means suffering from a fall.

It’s a slow climb to my feet. Slow and steady wins the race, Rosalie. I stumble along the wall feeling for peaks large enough to support my feet and hands. There aren’t many to choose from. Whoever chose this hole did so for a reason. It’s practically inescapable. My head is pounding and I feel my eyes go in and out of focus even though there’s nothing to focus on. I decide on a spot and inhale a deep breath to calm my nerves, because I’m pretty sure this won’t end positively. But I can’t leave this world thinking I did nothing to save myself. I can’t be the pixie that just waits in a hole to die.

I reach up and pull on a rocky protuberance. I’m quick to find support for my foot because I know I don’t have the strength to hold my body up with my arms alone. Quite frankly, I don’t even trust my legs at this point. I hold my body flush against the wall as best I can and slowly extend my right arm up, feeling for the next rock to grasp. There isn’t one. I sigh and rest my forehead against the wall as my right arm comes down and my left goes up. It’s not until my arm is extended above me that I find one. I don’t like the idea of pulling with my weak arm at such a great distance, but I have no choice. I reach down and pat the wall for something to step on that’s within reach of my feet. I only find one spot that may work, so I propel my body upwards and step on the rock before I can talk myself out of going. My movement is shaky at best, and there’s only room for my left foot on the bump, so my right is left dangling lifelessly along the wall. I manage to climb about three feet up the wall before I get stuck. There’s nothing within reach for my hands and the only step available for my feet is quite a stretch. I’ll have to go back a step and try to climb sideways.

I sigh my disappointment. My support leg is really shaking. I’m not sure how much longer it can hold. My right leg is scanning the wall for a place to stand when a huge muscle spasm attacks my left calf. I scream and try to switch my left out for my right, but there isn’t enough room on the rock. My right foot slips trying to find ground and I can’t stop gravity from taking me.

As hard as I try, I can’t get my body to turn in the air. The steel attached to my back is determined to beat me to the ground, and the weight of my body lands heavily upon my wings, which crunch upon impact. The pain is instantaneous and radiates throughout my body in quick waves, but I’m so stunned my lungs have yet to expand and allow me to scream in agony. My entire body shakes violently, then spasms. I scream, but my throat is so dry the only audible sound I make is a dire whisper. I’m so exhausted and damaged all I can really produce is a pathetic whimper for this massive amount of pain. But even in this painful state, I’m still able to cry. Of course nothing comes out anymore, but I cry nonetheless, because I know I’m going to die here. In a dark hole. All alone.

My body lay askew on the ground sideways, my wings a broken twisted mess. I’m not sure if they’ll ever fully heal, but I doubt they’ll be given the chance anyway.

“Until then, just swing on the willowy tree.” I’ve been singing this over and over again for the past few hours. I use the term singing pretty loosely, as it’s more of a hum since my throat is so parched. I can’t seem to remember the rest of the song, or what it’s even about. But I keep singing.

My singing has finally stopped, but that doesn’t keep the humming from continuing on inside my head. My body has gone numb and refuses to move at this point. My stomach has long since given up on me so it doesn’t