Starry Sky allowed me to play with the ideas of death and purgatory; really happy subjects. Because I try to do things differently every now and again, I was gifted a vision of what I am starting here. And, to do something I have never published before (I did try my hand at it once; amateur hour writing), I am going to try some allegory. Not 100%, mind you, where “everything points to something else,” but at least 50% or more.

Further, the protagonist of the story, introduced in the second part of this segment, is the antagonist of my romance/horror novel, Cursed Hearts. And, the character of Nike inhabited the two novels of the saga of Nichole 5 Clarke. The young woman is a horrible but tragic figure, a tortured and wounded soul who in the novel lashes out at the world, wanting nothing more than to be with her step-brother. I wanted to see if she could get a second chance.

Let’s see where this goes, friends. Deus vult.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Shouting again.  He stood from the chair and walked over to the huge mass.  He let his right hand rest on its side before moving his left ear to it.  Yes, shouting.  He didn’t know the language but whoever was in there was not happy about something.

Another bad egg dream, he thought, returning to the old, wooden chair.  He reversed it to rest his arms across the chair’s back.  Out the empty frame of the large picture window to his left, there was just the faintest red.  Sunrise would be soon, so his relief –

One tap at the door frame – the door was long gone – before the young man came in.  Nike’s gray wings spattered with black fluttered a bit.

“’Sup, Nike.  Any change?” the newcomer asked.

From his chair, Nike shook his head.

“You’re gonna wear yourself out, pulling double-duties like this,” the other said.  “Still claiming to ‘have a feeling’ about this one?”

“Mmm.”

The other chuckled.

“How do you know – ”

Nike cut him off.

“How do we know anything, Nozh?” he demanded.  “About that; about these?”

Nike pointed first at the huge egg followed with his left finger up and his right thumb back:  at his halo and small gray wings.

Nozh relented with a shrug and a droop to his wings.  He took a few steps towards the egg.  At least a dozen feet in diameter, its leathery off-white form stretched from the floor to ceiling.  Fibrous, root-like tendrils from it invaded the tiles below and the wood above.  It was only ten days ago that Snaran, one of the few girls in Machine Shop, found it.  It had only been a few feet across.  Per their tradition, a schedule was made to keep an eye on it, so that whoever was inside would not come into the world alone.  Those that did…

Nozh glanced out the empty window frame.  There was now just enough light to see the Wall.  He turned further to where Nike sat.

“I relieve you,” he spoke in an officious manner, glancing past him at the long-dead equipment that occupied the rest of the large room.  A lot of work had been done here, once.

“Thanks,” Nike said, standing.  He stretched and made for the door.

“Hey, Nozh?” he asked, flicking the other’s gold halo with a *ting!* “Sorry about being a jerk just now.  Likely you’re right:  I’m just worn out!  Later!”

Nozh watched him leave.  Nike was the oldest one there… mid-twenties, maybe?  There were already whispers that he would never Ascend:  those spots on his wings.  Otherwise, he was unfailingly polite to everyone else at Machine Shop:  a smile on his lean, olive face, crowned by dark, slightly curly hair that ended in white tips.

He dropped into the chair his senior had occupied, staring at the egg.  Nozh had hatched from his just a little over a year ago.  At first disoriented and confused; all that made worse after a few days when the fever started and his wings tore out.

Nozh shuddered a little at that memory. 

And now, their eldest seemed inordinately interested in this New One…

Wait.  What was that?

Was that… angry shouting from inside…?

“I don’t know who you are in there,” Nozh muttered.  “But please, don’t let us – let him – down!”

***

“Brother!”

Her eyes flew open to see her right arm out with her hand open, palm up.

What?

She allowed her arm to fall slowly to near her side.

Where am I?

A pale off white in all directions and she was apparently floating, as her feet rested on nothing.

Wait… who am I?

Her hands came up again.  She spared them only a glance before pressing them to her face.  Smooth skin, tiny nose, epicanthic folds… am I Oriental?  Reaching back, her hair was just past her shoulders.  With her left hand she pulled some around where she could see it.

Dark brown.  Almost black.  Letting go, it didn’t fall but drifted back into place.  Floating.

A look down confirmed that she’d been correct in thinking of herself as a girl:  no clothes.  She tried a paddling motion to turn herself about.  Nothing.

Well… something.  She turned again, slower, stopping at the area that seemed just a little lighter than the rest of… wherever she was.

She was neither cold nor hot.  Right now, at least, she was not hungry nor thirsty. 

“And I’m more bored than scared,” she spoke, startling herself.

Her words sounded odd to her ears, muffled.  Was she really floating?  How was she breathing?

How do I know I breathe air?  That I’m supposed to live on the land?

“Hello?” she tried.  Nothing.

With a small sigh, she let her eyes close.

Time seemed to pass slowly…

“Ugh!  Gaah!”

She convulsed awake, doubled over with her arms around her gut.  She’d dreamed… dreamed…

“Whatever it was, that was awful!” She mumbled, looking about for the lighter patch.

She looked more, turning about many times and, she was pretty sure, turning herself over a few times.

“W- where…?” She didn’t think she was afraid, be she was concerned.

I want my light back!

She forced herself to stillness, taking several deep breaths of whatever it was.  She moved.

Not recalling ever swimming, she did what an observer would have called a dog-paddle.  Time passed.  She seemed to be getting nowhere.

Concern was degenerating into fear.  She began to paddle more forcefully with her hands, clawing forward at nothing.

“Please…!”

Nothing.

“Anyone…!”

My light!

“Help me…!”

The fingers of her right hand scraped into some fibrous, leathery material.  A moment later the rest of her body landed on it.

An animal-like growl escaped her mouth as she tore at the surface with her hands and feet.  After tearing maybe four inches, her right arm pushed its way out into the air, the fluid pouring out of the hole.  She set about widening the hole.

The tear was now nearly eighteen inches long.  Lips pulled back in a grin of triumph, she put her hands on each side of the tear and pushed outward…!

The side of the egg gave way completely.  She bodysurfed out with the last of the fluid, coming to rest no more than ten feet away…

Feet.  There were two feet in worn leather shoes inches before her eyes.  She lifted her head from the cold tile.  Slacks.  A young man sitting on a reversed chair, looking down at her with a tiny smile.  Greek, by his looks, she thought.  She pushed herself up, caring nothing about her nakedness.  Two things suddenly arrested her movement.

The first was that he was smoking a cigarette.  That’s not healthy!

There was a mumble from her left.  The guy in front her mumbled, too.

She shook her head violently to get the fluid out of her ears.  Her eyes looked left.  Another young man, closer to her age.  But just like the first…

They both had small, gray wings and a gold halo.

She opened her mouth to speak, but first coughed for half a minute to clear her lungs.  No one moved to help her.  She drew her legs under her, still crouching on the tiles, and spared a glance at her back.

No wings.

“Where I am?” she managed.  “Am I… dead?”