Landed Wings - By Skylhur Tranqille Page 0,17
kids here are snootier then most, but I can’t see any of them hurting people. And their parents…well they’re just grown up kids. I don’t know anyone capable of evil, well, except for my mother. And even she wouldn’t do anything that would result in any backlash. She’s careful that way. Ivory keeps asking me what happened, but what do I tell her? How can I tell anyone?
“Ash, you have been gone all day. I haven’t heard you say five words today, and you have this dreamy expression on your face. What’s up with that?”
“What?”
“See what I mean?”
Today, Obsidian and I are walking in the hallway alone.
“What happened down there that has you so spaced out?”
“Hunh,” is all I can say.
I admit I’m barely paying attention to what Ob is saying.
“Oh nothing, nothing.”
“It’s obviously something. Is it that guy?”
I feel defensive all of a sudden.
“What about him?”
“Hey, I was just asking a question. No need to get defensive.”
He’s frowning now.
“Sorry, Ob. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
Why can’t they just leave me alone! Ob leans close and puts his head next to mine.
“That LandBound won’t ever know you like I do. I get you, I get why he’s so attractive to you – he’s different and weird and you like that. You think it’s some kind of adventure and imagine you’ve met him for a reason. Everything – everyone one here is too familiar – maybe even boring. I’ll tell you what, I’m tired of being bored too. I say you and me take off – go explore the rest of SkyBound. If you’re looking for adventure, you don’t have to go LandBound to get it. It’s right in front of you-think about it.”
Obsidian walks away, leaving me staring at his retreating back in shock. What the…? Since when-I don’t-what?! Is he trying to say he likes me? And what a cocky way to tell me! Who does he think I am? Doesn’t he know he’s practically my brother? Does everyone know? Does Raven know? What a mess. I – uhhh!!!! I want to run after him and set things straight, but he’s gone. And I have a singing gig today. I’ll have to deal with it tomorrow.
My singing gig is at an alternative restaurant/café named
Aviana Gardens. It’s a beautiful, earthy little place where the music ranges from lounge, to jazz, to blues. I am going to be singing jazz, and I choose a soulful song about lost innocence as my first song. It’s quiet and mellow and suits the ambiance of this place well. My voice is light, airy – it’s not deep like LandBound singers. It bothers me sometimes, because I feel like deeper voices produce more emotion. But people say they like my voice because it is soothing, and not forceful. I don’t know how to feel about that – good I guess, even though I’ve noticed that most of the people considered great don’t have airy voices. I’m not saying I’m breathy, just that my voice doesn’t have much substance. I only have substance when the song means something to me. I usually leave right after my set but a LandBound slam poet is coming on after me. I’ve never seen a LandBound perform slam poetry so I stay to watch the set. She starts to speak and I can feel the power of her words reverberating in a way I can never reproduce in song.
She speaks in a strong, powerful voice…
Walking a Fine Line
There is such a fine fine line
Razor thin and straight beneath my wingless feet
It trembles and quakes
Along with the daily battles in my mind
It shifts left, right, with
My thoughts
The inferiority I feel, because I am wingless
The pride/superiority I feel BECAUSE I am Wingless
The disgust and anger I feel toward my scarred wingless skin
The disdain and amused arrogance I feel towards the winged
Wanting desperately to be winged because I was told it was right
Knowing I was right too, and didn’t have to rely on wings
Seeing people like me, hiding their shame
Seeing people like me, proudly flaunting a wingless back
Seeing faces like my own, broken, denigrated,
humiliated
Knowing that the brokenness and humiliation was wrong
But accepting it – always accepting it
Seesawing back and forth the pain cuts deep
The thin, fine line turns red
With no wings to raise me, it cuts my feet, wearing me down
Never balanced, always shifting
Night day, night day
My thin fine line turns a darker red
I got back home today wanting to talk to my mother. I wanted to tell her that