Becoming Angel (part 5)

Exactly in that space between your shoulder blade and your spine, approximately a full hands length up and down, that’s where the wings grow from/live/are. I still can’t see them, but I can see of them, and I’m realizing they change as needed or wanted, from the normal opera-cape size slightly dragging the ground, to these enormous vehicles that can envelope me, my loved ones, my house, and possibly the entire planet.

I let them out to play, today, while walking across the nearly empty parking lot, and they blew outward so far and so fast my feet left the ground for the first time, if only momentarily. I can hide inside them, and protect my loved ones inside them, but they’re really designed to work outside of me, reaching out, stretching, expanding.

And there is none of that bullshit pretty fluffy white feather crap you see on television or in the movies. I think they’re more scales than they are feathers, and they’re definitely more peacock than white owl. Stained glass scales, illuminated from within. By a nuclear reactor. And made of titanium instead of glass. With a mind of their own, that somehow reads and knows my mind as well as the mind of the entire Universe.

Yep. This is my life now.

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