What would you do if the guy you liked had little feathers? This is a question my brain forced upon me last night and the only thing I could think about was, well, I think you'll figure it out if you read what I've written based on it. So, please enjoy!
The breeze carried with it the scent of the coming rain as the dark silhouettes of clouds perched themselves along the mountaintops. It ruffled my skirt, breaching the protective layer my knee-high socks had served to establish. I called out into the night and frowned when only the rhythmic song of a cricket replied. It was starting to hurt my face, all this frowning, but I couldn’t find him. A murderous gust of wind reversed my steps and shook the great oak tree with such a howl that, for a moment, I feared the wolves had returned.
I cried out again, “Gavin! Gavin, where are you!?”
From the treehouse nestled near the very top of the great oak a little freckled face peaked out and just as quick pulled away. I strapped my dying lantern to one of my skirt’s belt loops and prayed the wind would die down just enough to let me brave the frayed rope ladder. With what little breath remained in me, I cursed the height of this stupid tree and pulled myself into the crooked hut with red, chaffed hands. Without hesitation, Gavin crawled to my side and hauled me up by the pit of my arms. Once the bottom of my sneakers touched solid ground, he retreated to a corner and pulled his hoodie on tighter.
“You scared me half to death,” I panted, “Why are you up here so late?”
Gavin looked up from his hunched position, opening his mouth to speak.
“Valorie,” his voice strained and broken, “Please just go back to the house. I’ll come home in a minute.”
I shook my head. Shuffling on my hands and knees, I seated myself as close as he’d let me.
“I’m okay. Just please go,” he begged.
I shook my head again and reached for his shoulder. He pressed himself further away as though my hand was coated in fire ants. I abandoned the approach and leaned back onto the termite ravaged boards.
“You can tell me anything - hell, you don’t have to tell me anything, dear. I just want you to feel better.”
“Then… Then just go home,” Gavin croaked.
“Not without you.”
He looked at me through wet hazel eyes and sent a shiver through himself as he sighed heavily. After a while, he spoke again.
“Just don’t leave me. Promise me now you won’t leave.”
Shocked at such a notion, I offered a hooked pinkie to him. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
He seemed uncertain about my answer but never the less took up my oath. He shimmied his sweater, followed by his t-shirt, onto the dusty floor. Little dustbunny-looking things swayed to the floor, lifted slightly by the draft the little window behind him let in. Then I saw what they really where.
Feathers. Gavin had feathers. Little gray shoots sprung up from his shoulders, stopping short of his biceps and u-turned to follow his spine. If it weren’t for the way his face glowed in the low-light, I would’ve mistaken him for some foreign fairytale creature. Instead, I ran my hands over the smoke-colored fluff cloaking him, leaning in every now and then to kiss the tears off his cheeks. He remained as silent and still as a garden statue all the while.
“You’re like Howl,” I said between kisses. The quiet disturbed at last.
“Howl?”
“That one part where he turns into a bird-thingy.”
“Oh yeah…”
Gavin finally reached up, cupping my face in his hand. Despite the wild wind threatening this rotting treehouse, his touch remained warm. I bridged the gap between us, kissing him with a matched hunger. We stayed like that up until we ran out of breath.
“Let’s go home please,” he murmured.
“Hot chocolate?”
“Valorie. How do you manage to read my mind like that?”
“I just know,” I teased, handing him back his shirt.
I think the imagery is better at the beginning and that maybe I simplified the language too much at the end. Idk how to fix it though, but I'd like to return to this story to touch it up in the future.
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