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Verse: One-off
Who: Unspecified narrator
Prompt: A story about someone with wings made of bone
Rating: G
Word Count: 336
When she was young, she looked almost the same as everyone else, the hard, prominent lumps of bone twisting in her back not much more noticable that anyone else's shoulderblades. When she was young, she only felt different; she didn't show it at all.
But as she grew up, it changed.
As she grew up, those lumps of bones in her back began changing, pushing against her skin, growing and changing. It hurt; it hurt like a baby cutting teeth, and she spent some time crying and she spent some time sleeping to get away from the pain on the worst days, but for the most part it become a part of her life: the background of burning, stretching pain pushing against her skin; the hunching to keep the bones against her skin from pressing harder out; the need of something underneath to escape that she could never understand.
Years passed without a change and then, finally, one day she looked in the mirror and noticed something poking out of her shirt, coming out from her back. She pulled off her shirt, very careful to keep from snapping the thin white sticks poking out, and turned around, looking over her shoulder.
Wings.
Wings of bone, sprouting out from her skin. Thick bones towards the inside, set up cold and flush against her skin, looking like a part of her skeleton had escape from the trap of her skin. Smaller bones towards the outsides, such as the one that had poke out of her shirt. The bones reached towards the top of her shoulders and down near the middle of her back. They looked unfinished, and she could see why she hadn't noticed them before; the strange feeling didn't seem like anything unusual till she knew exactly what it was, and until that bone had poked out, they stayed close to her back.
She reached a hand over her shoulder, feeling the hard, cold structure of bone under her fingers, and she smiled.
She wondered what they would look like when they were done.
Who: Unspecified narrator
Prompt: A story about someone with wings made of bone
Rating: G
Word Count: 336
When she was young, she looked almost the same as everyone else, the hard, prominent lumps of bone twisting in her back not much more noticable that anyone else's shoulderblades. When she was young, she only felt different; she didn't show it at all.
But as she grew up, it changed.
As she grew up, those lumps of bones in her back began changing, pushing against her skin, growing and changing. It hurt; it hurt like a baby cutting teeth, and she spent some time crying and she spent some time sleeping to get away from the pain on the worst days, but for the most part it become a part of her life: the background of burning, stretching pain pushing against her skin; the hunching to keep the bones against her skin from pressing harder out; the need of something underneath to escape that she could never understand.
Years passed without a change and then, finally, one day she looked in the mirror and noticed something poking out of her shirt, coming out from her back. She pulled off her shirt, very careful to keep from snapping the thin white sticks poking out, and turned around, looking over her shoulder.
Wings.
Wings of bone, sprouting out from her skin. Thick bones towards the inside, set up cold and flush against her skin, looking like a part of her skeleton had escape from the trap of her skin. Smaller bones towards the outsides, such as the one that had poke out of her shirt. The bones reached towards the top of her shoulders and down near the middle of her back. They looked unfinished, and she could see why she hadn't noticed them before; the strange feeling didn't seem like anything unusual till she knew exactly what it was, and until that bone had poked out, they stayed close to her back.
She reached a hand over her shoulder, feeling the hard, cold structure of bone under her fingers, and she smiled.
She wondered what they would look like when they were done.