Thunderbird's Own

May 11, 2011
By iexisttolive BRONZE, Port Dover, Other
iexisttolive BRONZE, Port Dover, Other
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast. (-Snowman, Oryx and Crake)

Time doesn’t really heal; it just blurs things.

As she watched the destruction from afar, she could not help but weep for what was lost, and for the things that would never be. Even now, she was unable to accept the harsh reality that would never cease to horrify her. Clutching her head, tears running down her cheeks, she remembered what had once been.

She gritted her teeth, only a hiss escaping as the marks spread across her skin. Unfurling and writhing they slithered across her back and chest, weaved to cover her arms and legs. She never wavered, staring into the eyes of her soon-to-be leader. Her pale skin contrasted against his tan skin, blood dripping from between their clasped hands. The chanting, dancing members of the Flock surrounded them, moving in time, whirling and turning to watch as she was initiated into their number. The progress of the tattoos that would become an integral part of her being was slowing in time with the chanting. As the Flock became still around her, the marks settled, and still she had not made a sound.

The Spirit ran strong in her, stronger than in most of the full-blooded members of the tribe. Visions had come to her since she was a child. The decision to accept her into the Flock had caused strife. She was pale-skinned, not a member of the tribe. She was an outsider, though she learned the language and followed the customs.

Her mettle in not crying out proved her worthy of acceptance in the eyes of the tribe, though many were still unhappy. She stared into the eyes of her Top, and did not falter when she saw the hate and prejudice there. He had unwillingly welcomed her, had unwillingly awakened the Spirit within her, and she was grateful.

The new whorled wings on her back were beautiful, reds and blacks mixing in fantastic shapes. Symbols and images now adorned her skin, along with the wings, marking her as one of Thunderbird’s Own.

Still, it was not enough. For some, it never would be.

The day of her initiation still haunted her. The beginning of acceptance with those who became closer than family. Now she could do nothing as she watched their destruction from afar. She had been banished, torn from those she had grown to love. Their Top could not see past his hatred of her to understand that she was trying to warn them. Now, she could do nothing but watch as they rotted from within, corruption and greed running rampant to betray those that gave their lives for good.

That was the day she stopped believing in humanity.

The author's comments:
The first and last lines of this piece were prompts from my Writer's Craft class. This was the idea that popped into my head when faced with those lines. I was trying to show the major effects that prejudice can have.

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