Broken Wings: Genesis by A. J. Rand Read Free Book Online Page B

buildings were all dark. The last rays of dim light
peeked over the rim of the horizon, ready to cast the city into the dark of
night. It wasn’t a complete darkness. A pale shadow of indigo blue washed the
dreamscape around me in an ethereal glow. It was just bright enough to keep
full darkness at bay, but not the sick feeling in my stomach. I knew this
place. And I was pretty certain I wasn’t going to like being here.
    A slight tug at the edge of my
conscious awareness tried to pull my attention in another direction. I wanted
to avoid looking, but knew I had to. I turned my head and there it was. A gate.
It was amazing, and intricate. It was beautiful, and yet it sent a stab of fear
rushing through me. I did know this place. It wasn’t just any dreamscape.
It was the place I returned to time again. The place that left me sitting up in
bed with a cold sweat covering my body. This was the place of my nightmare, the
one I’d had for years. But it wasn’t in bits and pieces. This was the full
deal. Only this time I wasn’t living it, I was watching it, like looking into a
fishbowl.
    To look at the gate as an object,
it was as ethereal as its setting. It was a large, slightly elliptical,
mirror-like surface standing vertical and flat. The frame surrounding that surface
was a bas-relief of soft shapes and colors. It reflected everything––the last
light of the sun, the indigo hue of the twilight world, and it was constantly
moving and shifting––reshaping itself in front of my eyes. It made my head hurt
to watch it, but I couldn’t turn away. The surface, by contrast, was flat and
motionless. It reflected nothing and showed nothing.
    But something was there, just on
the other side of the deceptive, calm surface. A chill went through me and I
shivered. I didn’t have to know what it was. What I did know, and felt with
every fiber of my being, was that it was wrong. It was very, very wrong.
    My attention went to the base of
the gate––in part because there was something moving, but mostly because I
didn’t want to look at the wrongness beyond the surface of the gate. I could
feel it reaching out, sensing and probing. I didn’t want it to notice me.
    Two figures stood before the gate.
Both were facing each other. And both had wings––amazing, delicate, beautiful
feathered wings that spread from their backs.
    The smaller of the two was using
those wings to hover off the ground, bringing her to eye level with the one
standing in front of the gate. She wore a dress of many layers, deep oranges,
reds and golds. It was almost like the color of fire, but not quite. The many
pieces of material didn’t so much move like flames as they did the petals of a
multi-colored marigold wrapped around her body. Her wings were the same color,
the hues weaving in and out to display a picture, like feathered butterfly
wings. Her long, loose golden curls framed a cherubic face that was animated
with playful pleading.
    The other one stood with pride
before the gate. Long, dark hair was braided over one shoulder to hang almost
to her waist. The delicate feathers of her white wings took on the subtle hue
of the indigo light around her. They contrasted the color of her
clothing––dark, fit and tight, the dress of a warrior. It was her face that
really caught my attention. It was a strong face, marred with tiredness.
    I knew that face well. I looked at
in the mirror every day. My face stared out from the form of the winged
creature. Of course, I should have known that. In my nightmare, I was
the one that stood before the gate and dealt with what was coming. This was the
first time I’ve ever watched what happened from a distance. If I had a comfy
chair and some popcorn, I could sit back and watch the show. Only this wasn’t a
popcorn-type movie. It was a lean forward on the edge of your seat and call out
to warn the dumb, blonde cheerleader not to go into the basement-type of movie.
As though my thoughts cued the sound guy, the