mooging | (no subject)

Ok, so thanks to Meredithy and her lurvely encouraging comment, here is the thing I wrote. It's basically an ordinary event written as something majorly special, so. Um. Here, read it.

It isn't really supposed to have a title, but I thought I'd give it one because I wanted something at least vaguely interesting to put in the lj-cut! It starts straight after the lj-cut, so I won't say anything at the end of it....but comment on it! *is needy and will look sweet to the best of my ability for praise*

She stirs, face creased in more ways than one. If you looked for her, she could not be found; she is swallowed in deep, drowning dark. The world, silent, is observing her. It spins to illuminate her figure, and she struggles, a swimmer searching for air.

She is not here, yet her body lies ensnared in suffocating warmth. Eyes are the window to the soul and she keeps hers closed. Trapped behind them, she is running. Grass tickles her feet and the trees become dizzying monotony. She is on fire. She burns. Skin scorches beneath her and her feet char the ground.

Darkness seeps away slowly, a gray morning fog lapping at icy glass. Death starts to lift from branches and new life chirps out a chorus. She doesn't see. Where she is, she is hurt. Her skin peels in strips as the destroyer creeps higher. She criesyellswailsshrieksshoutssobsbegspleads but still she dies and nothing changes.

There tries to be pale rays of a shadow-banisher that stains the streets with life. The smog of a city in repose casts it aside. She will lament this later. For now, her feet push push shove against the shriveling grass. It is dying with her. On a different plane, impatient feet push down binding blankets.

Hums and buzzes and commotion converge onto shivering streets. All hide, black canvas coatings as litter for birds to gaze on. The sky weeps with dawn. She has no envy for the people-tissues that the tears are falling on. She does not know the day's sorrow yet.

Now she is flying and her feet have nothing to touch. There is air and space and it is empty above as she ascends.

Now there are bells. Bells summon, pull, grab at her and she obeys.

As the city grumbles, her hand shoots out. The bells stop. The angel ascends. The woman has woken.