247 – One last picnic
His black wings cut the air, if not invisible at least unnoticeable against the dark sky above the city.
He watched them, all at once. Laughing, crying, playing, fighting, making love… all of them lost in their own little joys and sorrows. If only they knew.
His heart broke a little thinking about them, so full of promise. There was a time when he could have stopped it. A simple slight twist in the fabric of reality, just enough to barely change the probabilities… But that was long ago, when their belief in his kind gave him the power necessary to play the odds like a delicate instrument. Now, all he could do for them was let his heart break a little more.
He found her at the top of the highest hill, beyond the busy streets and flashing lights. Forever young and pale, all dressed in black. He perched himself on her shoulder, letting the full weight of his heavy heart rest on it.
“It won’t be long now.” He whispered, not so much to her as to himself.
“Don’t feel bad…” She answered without looking at him. “They chose their own path.”
He hopped down to the ground, turning back into his thin, tall self. His long black tress reaching almost to the knees of his old, dark wood body.
She handed him a sandwich, white cheese on rye. He absent-mindedly took a bite from it, his gaze and thoughts lost somewhere far beyond the horizon.
From a passing car, he heard the thump of a deep bass entangled with a heavy tri-tone guitar. A hoarse voice chanted the first verses of a dark song.
“Gen’rals gathered in their masses,
Just like witches at black masses…”
The sounds died in the distance as the car drove away. From the top of the hill they watched the city, they watched every city.
“You know…” he said between bites. “I always kinda liked that song.”
They ate in silence as the bombs started falling.