Meeting Between

Another 5-minute fiction entry. It’s really too little time, isn’t it. This may be the seed of something else. We’ll see. (The seed work this week was ‘coal’)  –M

The featureless grey of Limbo. An expanse so vast and empty a lost soul could travel for millennia and not encounter another.

This is where we meet. This is where her light is dimmed enough not to blind me. This is where my coal black wings gain a semblance of depth. We can look upon each other, touch in a way where we can both ignore the pain.

Every spare moment I spend here, waiting for her. Flying over nothing, under nothing. I go to the sparks of the haunted and the lost, I point them in a direction they might encounter something or someone, and some listen. Some know never to trust a demon, and walk alone. Is what I do a service? Does it change His judgment of me? Is it what she does when she waits for me?

I never think to ask. When I feel her arrive, or if she is there when I arrive, I fly, fast as I can, thinking of nothing else. Sometimes we never see each other – one of us is called back before we can close the distance.

But sometimes. Sometimes our hands touch. Sometimes our lips, our bodies, our wings. And we fall into the gray. A limbo of our own choosing.

Back in the depths, it is the only thing that tells me I have not truly fallen, and I hold it, as I have for aeons, and will.

Until.