He watched them from his perch above the doors. They scurried into the ancient brick building, walking briskly in an attempt make it inside before the clanging bell echoed through the frozen gray air. Even so, there were always a few stragglers–dragging sleepy children by the hand, arguing with their spouses in hushed icy tones. But still, he envied them. Envied the fire in their eyes, the tension in their shoulders, the tightening of one hand around another.
And he’d watched again, a short time later, as they flowed through the doors like slow-moving water, groups of three and four pausing on the stairs, creating human-shaped boulders and logs that the rest of the river needed to wind around to gain their freedom. What would it take for him to leave his post and join the crowd below? What would it be like to lose himself in that warm tide of bodies?
The bell hung silent in the tower now, and the sun had set hours ago. Stars twinkled silently above him, taunting him with their cold, dead light, tormenting him with their freedom. He was so tired. Tired of just surviving. He wanted to live.
Pushing hard against the marble that held him, he heard the stone crack, felt it give way. Wriggling until he was free from confinement, he jumped, landing on the top step in front of of the heavy wooden doors. He’d left his wings behind in a pile of crumbling mortar and marble. He didn’t need them. Heaven wouldn’t take him back.
That’s it for me this week. Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.