Creative Writing On Loss Of Wings

The Loss of Wings

I will never forget the moon and how it looked especially bright. I will never forget the cold winter’s breeze and how it swept me off my feet. I will never forget the stars, and how they appeared to be closer and closer. I will never forget the night of the beginning of the end.

That night was only a few months ago. It is amazing how much can change in just a few months. Sometimes I ponder how my life would be if only I had walked away. If only I had maintained my footing. If only I had not been so selfish and carefree. My mother would have walked away, I tell myself, even though I know it is not true. My mother, my sweet, sweet mother, she would have been a hero.

The crisp winter air blew my hair this way and that, creating knots that would take strenuous effort to undue. However, this did not bother me in the least. The breeze filled my lungs with air and my heart with a yearning for adventure. Maybe it was the breeze or the moon that led me into the woods, or maybe it was fate itself. Putting on my leather boots, I trudged into the dark trees, asking for trouble. But that was how I was a few months ago, troublesome and curious, always waiting for the next big thing to happen. I used to live in anticipation, now I live in remorse and regret. The snow crunched under my boots, and an owl hooted from a nearby branch. As my green eyes adjusted to the darkness, a shadow appeared in the distance. Careful not to make a noise, I slowly inched my way closer to the hooded figure. A single thought surged
Slowly the figure was rising, inch by inch, foot by foot until he floated just above my head. The cloak that was draped around his shoulders hung just inches from my face. The figure began to move again and just before my adventure left forever I grasped onto his cloak. An action that would effect every action that was yet to come, an action that I would so deeply