His Black Wings by Astrid Yrigollen Page B

nightly prayer. Even though Mr. Lowood (it would take me awhile to get accustomed to this new name as opposed to Fredrick or Mr. Brighton) seemed to be telling me the truth with his confession, there was still something that bothered me. He seemed to be withholding information from me, what I did not know, but I was sure that it would eventually come out. Perhaps he just did not know if he could fully trust me yet.
     

She
     
    Fredrick removed his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. He loosened his tie and removed his pipe from its case. Sitting down heavily in his chair, he leaned forward on his massive desk that was covered with papers. He always felt most comfortable in his library, with its floor to ceiling books all neatly tucked side by side on their shelves. While so many nowadays used the “EARS” system, (short for Electronic Archival Retrieval System) he did not like the thought of wearing a small device in ones ear. Every book that was ever written since the beginning of time was stored on this device. The device then automatically synced with ones brainwaves so that you can choose to “know” the book page by page or simply read it all in one micro second.
     
    Fredrick felt that was cheating. There was nothing better than the feel of a book in your hand, listening to the crinkling sounds as you turned its pages, and the smell of its crisp paper. He sighed at the changing times and his unwillingness to adapt to them. He wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing Claren here as he opened a drawer hunting for matches.
     
    It could very well be months before I see my own son and he may choose not to reveal himself to Claren at all.
     
    Fredrick’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound as he saw the double doors to his library burst open with tremendous force. They slammed against the inside walls to his library and bounced back.
     
    “Etrigan. How good to see you so soon after my arrival.” Fredrick said to his son, genuinely pleased.
     
    Perhaps this would work after all. Especially now that I have put my original design on hiatus.
     
    A tall form clad in black strode into the room sending books and paper flying everywhere. Etrigan was a younger version of his handsome father. Jet black hair that desperately needed a haircut, it curled around the nape of his neck and ears. While his eyes were blue, they were the darkest blue, darker than his father’s. Eyes that displayed anger and inner torment one moment, and great passion the next. His strong Greek nose fit perfectly with the rest of his features, not underwhelming and not overpowering. Lips red and pouty were always set in either a frown or a scowl but never in a smile. When he stood without slouching he was taller than most men at six foot five. His form was muscular, yet lithe, graceful, and strong. In a word, Etrigan was beautiful in a masculine way. He would have been the envy of every man in the outside world and the desire of every woman who set eyes upon him, save for one thing.
     
    His black wings.
     
    They were massive, soft, and leather like, similar to the patagium of a bat, but thicker. They started off narrow, then projected outwards from between his shoulder blades. He had slim bones that ran through them in true bat like fashion. At each wing tip he had a menacing glossy black spike. A natural bone that was part of his wingtips, he could use these tips to rip flesh or gently move things in his way, so great was his control. At their full expansion his wing span was easily twelve feet.
     
    Fredrick looked up at his son who now stood menacingly over him and recalled when he was a small child, he had broken one of the bones in his wings. It took him a month to heal. He had been trying to carry off a boar that was larger than himself. Always the little savage, he insisted on eating the boar before his wing was set with a splint.
     
    Now his son’s wings were being held in but wanting to span out in