He had wings. I had hands. Both chained. The open sky was our dream. Finally, the gale of cold freedom burned across my face with his smell of heat. He gave me sky, freedom, and his life.
Mourning dry on my face, I knelt on fire blackened earth, breathing ashes of my price he had willingly paid. The rising sun painted an orange warning on the clouds and sea. Wind lashed my hunched shoulders. His brothers formed a somber henge of scale and wisdom around me. “You are free. Honor him well.”
100 words submitted to the final Friday! Friday contest. Sorry to see it end but best of luck to @