Part I: The Bridge [II]

It was the thunder that finally awoke him. His eyes opened onto darkness, and he knew that he was alone. The thump noise of shaking land was fading now, leaving only silence to greet him, and the voices he remembered from those gray streets were only a distant, hazy memory. His body lay upon a soft, padded surface, made with something that felt like goose down but was stiff like springs, and his hands, placed at his sides, were cold and tingled. The inevitable sting came when he clenched his fingers, and without moving, he allowed his eyes to adjust. Shapes he recognized were given names, textured walls, bookshelves, a desk, but the ground… Shifting, his eyes found the floor, and with fingers that were hardly sure of their own selves, he touched the carpet and released a slow, satisfied groan. Floors. No illusion, no strange apparition due to his exhaustion- real, steady, unmoving floors. And for the first time since he had touched true human feet down upon the cold sidewalks of the world, he felt as though all things were finally in their proper places… or, at least, he was.

He allowed his muscles to relax and his eyes to close- another first, and he breathed what felt to be clean, cold air, a refreshing contrast to what he had been breathing for close to a week prior. But this feeling of relief was short lived, and as quickly as he relaxed, he tensed again, pushing himself into a sitting position and turning so that his feet touched the carpet. He moved his toes- those tingled as well, like ghosts rather than limbs, and he stared down at their dark outlines with a half-lidded, half-hearted disgust. When the pins-and-needles began to recede, he stood and assessed the darkness. His eyes stopped upon the single thread of light that peeked from beneath the closed door, shadows hurrying about the candles as though in an attempt to be discreet. The Messenger approached, reaching out until, finally, he found the wood of the wall, and eased his extended fingers across the surface in slow, patient movements until he found the knob.

The Messenger watched the light a moment. His bare toes looked ghastly pale in contrast to the dark carpeting, and he moved them gently across the rough fibers. Still alive. He thought this with a complete lack of regard for his position, just as He had claimed he would, and at realizing this, the Messenger shook his weary head. His palm grasped the chilled knob, allowing his fingers one more curious roam across the surface of the door, and he pushed open the door, stepping hesitantly into the light.



When Lailah was born, her brother thought her screams had reminded him of something horrible, and in every instance afterward that such screams erupted from her, he knew that someday he would come to despise the rise and fall of her painful wailing.

Lailah’s body rose in great spasms and fell again, hands searching in an attempt to scratch at something, anything, and her cries broke the earth in ways that could not be mended. Eyes were open, wide open, her body convulsed and trembled with each thrust of her muscles, and she stared passed the ceiling, passed the sky, into space and farther still. Against the wall, his hands over his face, Rhamiel watched through shaking fingers and sweating palms his dear Lailah, urging his legs to move, to force their way from the room, remembering the chilled skin.

No heartbeat.

No response.

White sheet.

Another world-wrecking scream forced itself into the air, and his body pressed farther into the wall, one hand reaching backward as though to reach forth into the splintered panels and bring back reality. He shut his eyes, furrowing his brow and concentrating on pressing the sounds down, downward still into the pits of him, into his feet to weigh him and secure him, but another scream came, and then another, and though he struggled to keep his lips pressed, a shriek mounted and could not be withheld.

When the sounds stopped, the quiet made Rhamiel pale, eyes opening only to be stung by the sweat on his brow. Lailah lay still, body twisted, eyelids opened, and the awareness of her gaze broke him and made him shudder. A few moments he stood soundlessly, watching Lailah’s still form with shaking legs and eyes that felt he could no longer close.