Chapter 7: Greying, Wings
“The devil’s script sells you the heart of a blackbird.”
…and he soared, hoping not to be flying an Icarus path.
He would evade one pack only to encounter another as they crested through the cumulus cloud he rode. The sky was patchy with fractocumulus streaks of puffiness. This allowed the dying star night sky to shine. Vincent hid in one that covered a larger area of the sky, but the Murders pursued him relentlessly. Vincent chose to dive, wings furled tight against his body, heading to the glittering lake below him.
The white puffs had soured, moisture points rising as one joined another, ruining the purity until they grew dense, darker, and greyer. The lake was losing its light.
Vincent touched the ground with talons extended, gripping the silt around the shoreline. Swiveling, he looked for pursuers. Puffing out his chest, the Grackle Lord became Vincent again.
Rain was starting to fall. His unshod feet began to sink slightly into the forming mud. It was cool, but Vincent knew that it would soon get cold. He wished for warm shoes, then added socks inside them. Woolen feel without any itch, black as the drawing overcast skies.
Vincent was forming the landscape. The lake was large, with enough of a mirror quality to it. He saw nothing, and there were no beating of wings to be heard. They could be gliding. Vincent took off at a trot. Crafting a ridge of hills with a plethora of caverns, Vincent made for one to his right. Once inside the opening, he waited for a count of twenty.
He skittered three caves down. There was a thick overhang of ivy and moss; others also had this. Vincent hoped for a chance to breathe.
The rain fell in earnest, steady. Usually, Vincent felt calm, drifting into the consistency of the sound. Cold seeped into the cave. Vincent wished to be clothed. Thick jeans, black flannel shirt, a thick dark gray sweater, woolen hat. His fingers were freezing. He wished for gloves.
Fire was out of the question. He had wished for it a few times before, but fire is alive. It has its wants and desires, a will to consume, to control. Its voice was strong, stronger than any of Vincent’s resolves. So, he did without fire.
Vincent first squatted, then sat, back against the cave wall. His stomach lightly grumbled. Food was easier to come by. He wished, and a paper bag of sandwiches and chips was on his lap. He was biting into his second PB&J when the sound of wet wings and angry cries flew near his hiding spot.
Dr. Maria’s eyelids flew open. Vincent thrashed in the bed, a droning moan emitting from his tight lips. His body convexed against the restraints then fell back onto the mattress.
She was reaching for the call button. The dose of Diazepam they injected should have kept Vincent under for a few more hours. Her face was taut. She had the call button in one hand as she placed the other over Vincent’s closest hand.
“No,” Vincent subvocalized as Dr. Maria sat beside him in the cave.
A to G, the first seven chapters of Vincent’s Descent. H is for Monday, and I kinda/sorta have an idea where this is going now. I told a member of my Writer’s Group this morning that I have no clue to where this will end.
Well, maybe, but don’t hold me to it.
If you are just coming upon Tale Spinning/”Vincent’s Descent” for the first time, I STRONGLY suggest that you start with the April 1st entry, “Azure Dreams.”
My plan for Sunday is to return to the first post and edit along. There are some things I’ve added as the story has progressed that need to be incorporated into day one.
I’ll post a post with thanks/links to bloggers who have supported my work on Sunday as well. Some really great writers and great new blogs I’ve been introduced to.
Check out other AtoZ Blogging Challenge blogs HERE. As of this writing, there are 228 blogs to check out.
Thanks for reading.