The Day Was Young, and the Night Not Yet Begun

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Celeste strolled down a path with her sister Misty. Misty’s long black hair hung free, Celeste’s long blonde hair was in a high ponytail. Their skin shone in the afternoon sunlight. A short black girl on a bench waved and both sisters waved back. The girl’s wings fluttered lightly and she rose into the sky, smiling so wide her pointed teeth showed. Celeste and Misty kept walking. They passed a tree where a spirit lived; he looked out at them as he always did, a vacant expression in his leaf-like eyes. Celeste shuddered a bit as she always did when they passed tree spirits. The vacancy in their eyes scared her. Misty squeezed her sister’s hand, and they moved on.
A small girl with red hair and a red tail ran past them chasing a smaller boy with the same shade of hair and tail. Misty giggled. A pair of beansidhes brushed each others’ hair on the grass. Misty hopped up onto the park wall and unfurled her long blue wings. She jumped into the air and hovered over Celeste’s head. Celeste hopped up and let her own long purple wings flutter in the breeze.

Knees bent, Celeste leapt into the air and flew straight up for fifty feet. A six-story apartment building was in front of her, and she flew over to a gargoyle perch. The gargoyle had long ago flown away, leaving the perch open for Celeste. She landed lightly, her toes barely touching stone, and twirled a pirouette. Misty met her and landed on the perch beside Celeste’s. They smiled at each other, then raced down their perches and dove into the air. Afternoon sun warmed their skin and wings as they sank near the ground, then rose on an updraft. Misty shrieked with laughter, a grin on her face. Celeste dove close enough to touch the horn of a unicorn, then flew away as it snorted at her.

The sisters flew to the river, crossing it low, the tips of their wings dragging in the water. Celeste’s eyes shut; she was deliriously happy. She was flying, she was over the water, she was with her sister, and they were free. When they reached the Manhattan shore they rose and touched down on top of a building. It was a tall steel skyscrapers, at least 52 stories. Celeste let out a whoop and jumped high, twirling, then came back to the roof.

Their city, their beautiful New York, was alive with the mortal, the immortal, and the mystical. Misty and Celeste spun and dove, circled and rose through the air, laughing and calling to each other and other faeries flying through the city skyline. The day was young, and the night not yet begun.





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