just something i've been working on.
Apr. 30th, 2002 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holliHere's a snippet of the short story I started this morning. Personally, I blame Neil Gaiman for the whole thing. Criticism always welcome.
work in progress: the girl with wings
There was once a girl with wings.
She came into the world pink and plump and squalling, like any other newborn; and she was like every other newborn in every respect but one. For she had wings, protruding from her shoulder blades, bare of feathers like a hatchling's. She was of normal size for an infant, but very light; her bones were hollow as a bird's. The doctors were astounded, and could offer no explanation.
Her parents were shocked as well, for such a thing had never been seen before in the world. For years after their daughter's birth, they bickered over whose side of the family was to blame, pointing fingers at every twisted branch and bad apple on the family tree. Nonetheless, they loved their daughter just as much as they would have loved a normal child, and protected her fiercely from the rude and the curious.
For most of her childhood, the girl seemed no different than any other. Her wings were stubby, incapable of flight, and were easily hidden beneath her clothing. She was a happy child, running and playing and always climbing trees; never happier than when her feet were off the ground. She had a few more trips to the hospital than was usual, for her bones were very brittle, but children heal quickly; besides, she liked drawing Magic Marker trees and clouds on her plaster casts. No attempt was made to remove her wings-- her parents would not hear of it.
The girl grew, and her wings grew with her. When she was ten, thick silver feathers began to appear throught the white down that covered her wings. Soon, she had to cut holes in the backs of all her jackets and t-shirts. The media, who had mostly lost interest in the girl when it became apparent that she was not the result of a government DNA-tampering scheme, and nor was she an angel sent to Earth, began hiding in the bushes and snapping pictures once again.
work in progress: the girl with wings
There was once a girl with wings.
She came into the world pink and plump and squalling, like any other newborn; and she was like every other newborn in every respect but one. For she had wings, protruding from her shoulder blades, bare of feathers like a hatchling's. She was of normal size for an infant, but very light; her bones were hollow as a bird's. The doctors were astounded, and could offer no explanation.
Her parents were shocked as well, for such a thing had never been seen before in the world. For years after their daughter's birth, they bickered over whose side of the family was to blame, pointing fingers at every twisted branch and bad apple on the family tree. Nonetheless, they loved their daughter just as much as they would have loved a normal child, and protected her fiercely from the rude and the curious.
For most of her childhood, the girl seemed no different than any other. Her wings were stubby, incapable of flight, and were easily hidden beneath her clothing. She was a happy child, running and playing and always climbing trees; never happier than when her feet were off the ground. She had a few more trips to the hospital than was usual, for her bones were very brittle, but children heal quickly; besides, she liked drawing Magic Marker trees and clouds on her plaster casts. No attempt was made to remove her wings-- her parents would not hear of it.
The girl grew, and her wings grew with her. When she was ten, thick silver feathers began to appear throught the white down that covered her wings. Soon, she had to cut holes in the backs of all her jackets and t-shirts. The media, who had mostly lost interest in the girl when it became apparent that she was not the result of a government DNA-tampering scheme, and nor was she an angel sent to Earth, began hiding in the bushes and snapping pictures once again.
