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Slender fingers touched the sleek feathers of the wing. The hand moved back and forth over the large feathers. They were beautiful wings crafted with the utmost perfection. Like everyone else’s, spotless white. But his were different. The pure white of his wings was stained; stained to the point where one would not think of his wings as pure. Instead, they looked like ebony black wings blotched with white and darkened with a shade of red. The wings quivered as the fingers stroked every inch of them.
“Such beautiful wings…finely crafted, beautifully colored, amazing aerodynamics…”
The wings snapped out, smacking the face of the adoring one. “Let go of me.” The gruff voice hissed. The wings folded back tightly into it’s back. “Go adore your own wings.”
The adorer laughed. Turning to the side, the tips of his wings tickled the other one. “Oh Father…why? Yours are easier to get to.”
The one possessing the darkened wings stared back. A black crop of dirty hair sat on his head, stray hairs sticking out in odd directions. He was a large man, well built from head to toe. Broken spectacles rested on his nose. From a wound near his chest, dried blood clung to his clothes and stained downwards. He began to scoot away from the other person; a winged being like himself. His adorer was also a man; long, thin and remarkably slender. His face was angular by his chin and nose. His long fingers knitted around his elongated pale hair. Specials also sat on his nose but not cracked or ruined in any way.
But his wings! Oh his wings! His wings were the purest white. Not a single blemish showing on any feather. They were crafted just as beautifully with precision and skill. But the color! The color made the other man quite jealous. Clean, spotless wings. What a gift.
“Sure, mine are easier to get to? Yours are attached to your own back!”
The white winged man chuckled lightly. “But I can’t see the back of them. Plus, yours have splendid color. Like stone brushed with blood. How fitting…”
“Go away.”
“Funny. I said that to you countless times and you didn’t listen.”
“Well maybe then I had a reason like I do now! Ever heard of personal space?”
His long hair brushed his father’s face. With one finger, he pointed down from their vaulted place.
“Look. What do you see?”
“Jizabel, I said go away.”
“You know what I see? Cain, Riffael and Suzette. They look merry and full of joy…and their wings are as white as doves. True, Cain still has those scars on his back and Riff his past deeds…but their wings are unspotted.” A shimmering glance was exchanged. “How very interesting.”
He turned away, a black feather wriggling loose and blowing past. “Jizabel, my son, leave.”
“You have no authority over me anymore. You lost authority the moment I died.” He pointed to a sharp gash on his neck; all red, raw and blood-stained. “I severed my own binds.”
“Well you still have common sense…”
He laughed. “Funny coming from you.” His hands fell again onto his father’s wings. “I remember what you told me countless times. You told me my wings were blemished and stained with sin that couldn’t be washed off. You told the same thing to Cain if I remember.” He pressed the tips of his fingers into the meat of the wings. “Now look at you. Your wings are the sin-stained ones. Stained from abuse, deception, incest even. Kind of ironic!”
Another smack of the wings. With the same glaring eyes, his father spread his wings to the sun.
“If I still had it, I’d give it to you.”
“Give me what?”
“The cross. The cross that symbolizes all the sin you now carry. Cain and I. You now carry our sin. For you are the one that caused our backs to be marked.” Air blew the hair from his face. His father had taken flight, flying into the unknown mist.
“Glad you got eternal torment, father.”