Twiddle

Jan. 19th, 2010 06:45 pm
elionwyr: (Default)
Lucia was growing wings.

She thought at first they were cysts, swollen spots rising above her shoulder blades. She craned her neck and poked, prodded, cringed until they drained, only to need attention again in a few days.
And then one day her fingers came away slick with blood, punctured by something much harder than infection beneath her skin.

The panic of a body’s betrayal crashing against the terror of no health insurance threw Lucia into denial. What has been seen cannot be unseen, but it can certainly be ignored. Sleeping on her stomach to avoid putting pressure on her back, wearing tank tops that avoided catching on the sharp bits of something, Lucia found ways to live around the changes working their way out of her body.

For the summer, for a few weeks, she could shake her hair over her shoulders and pretend this wasn’t happening.

Until the gentle fledgling curve of bone was something she saw in every reflective surface.

Until a sibilant voice started hissing in her dreams about impending impossible horrors.

Until the city started consuming angels.

Until no one was truly safe.

February 2020

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