Angel Soul

The edge of the world. Of her world. The night was a solemn silence cloaking her fragile body. Yet, for her, there was no silence, no peace. In the depths of her unsound mind, the screams never quieted, the wails never ceased, the agony never diminished. But she would always fight them, as she had fought until her last breath. Though it had been a long, long while since then. No longer could she even try to fight. Truly, she had died months ago. Her spirit had gone, and she was left as nothing but an empty shell.

Below were jagged rocks and frigid waves, above, a silver crescent moon and scattered clouds against a jet black canvas. With a slight tremor in her gaze, she raised her head until the moon was reflected in her eyes. A slight breath of wind, one blink, and it was gone, obscured beneath a stray cloud. Barely visible, a single crystalline teardrop slid down her cheek. Her hair flying gently in the meager breeze, she looked down and smiled for the first time in years. "Angels can fly," she whispered.

So she spread her wings...

...and she flew.

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