Silver Feather

“It’s the third time this week, Miss Archer,” I listen to the Dean as he presses his paper thin wrinkled lips tightly together, “May I remind you, this is an up held prestigious school; I won’t having your repetitive tardiness spoil its flawless image.”
His brows then wave me off. Not once did he look me in the eye. Flawless, I thought, just the thing I’m not. I quickly bow my head and apologize again. I stand up on my feet and cool my pulse as I exit the darkened oak doors. I let out a long strained breath of air and adjust my bag over my shoulders as I walk to class.
The reason I’m late is because of Aunt Glyn making me wash the floors before the shop opens. I’m to wash the shop floors every morning, but even if I start early, she comes downstairs and inexplicably finds spots that, to her imagination, I’ve missed. I’ve lived with Aunt Glyn my whole life. She isn’t exactly the best aunt in the world.
Once classes are finished, my friend Vienna splatters words in the air and into my ears.
“You’d be surprised at how many peopled passed last weeks history test. If you asked me, I think somebody passed around the answer sheet and it somehow did not get to me! I got 58 per cent! My dad’s going to kill me since he’s supposedly a historian every time I fail a test,” Vienna says with dramatic blazes of breath. I manage to open my locker and crinkle my nose at the stench of my gym clothes that spent the night without my consent.
“I didn’t do that well either,” is all I say to her. I pull out the smelly clothes and stuff them in the bottom of my bag. Vienna leans on the locker door, exasperated.
“I’m going to die!” she yells waving the test around.
I feel a pair of eyes creeping on me, so I turn my head to the left. The grunge boy from art class walks by, holding my stare. I grit my teeth for a second before looking back in my bag. The wind his paced walk produces brushes the back of neck. I try not to gag.
“Why does he always stare?” I mumble the question under my breath. I watch Vienna pop a pink gum into her mouth.
“He obviously has a crush on you. Something I will never understand.”
I frown at her, “What?”
“What?”
I pause and shake my head. My fingers find the zipper of my bag and shut it close.
“He’s good looking. You know, if that’s what you’re into.”
“This is the part where we stop talking about boys,” I sing.
She ignores my request, “He just needs to stop wearing black liner. I bet there is a nice boy under all that greasy hair. Shampoo is on sale this week—”
“Vienna. Stop. Please.”
She giggles and we say our goodbyes and exit out the school’s stiff prison doors.

The walk sign flashes, allowing me to cross. I step forward and stare at the cement under my feet. For a split second, I feel as though I’m floating. Suddenly, a loud screech deafens my ears. I shoot my head up and see the hood of the car an inch away from my knees. Cars beep left and right. My mouth drops open gasping infinite air. Did I almost lose my life? I stagger backwards and feel my bag slip off my shoulders. I still have a whole 30 seconds to cross the road. I don’t know what this dude thinks he’s doing. I can’t see the crazy impatient driver through the heavily tinted windows. I run to the other side as fast as I can. A woman asked me if I was alright. Car horns keep making noise in the road. The car that nearly ran me over scurried away, tattooing tire marks on the ground. I try to calm my startled senses until I see what I always see in situations like these. A familiar long silver feather shining in the sunlight is hanging on the lamp post next to the stop light. I grab it harshly. It’s something I can’t describe.

I rush home and lock myself in my room. My fingers tug the closet door open. I bend my knees, landing on the grape colored carpet. I dig out the glossy black shoe box where I keep my collection. My collection of silver feathers... It’s eerie that I often survive deadly accidents. I pull out the leathery diary from the bottom of the box. Feathers fall left and right. I quickly turn to a blank page and start writing. Every single time, a mysterious silver feather appears. I can’t remember exactly when I started collecting these treasured feathers, but I must have over a hundred of them. I’ve done extensive research on them and they don’t belong to any city bird like pigeons or seagulls. I’ve even gone to a bird specialist at the animal museum and got no answer. These 20 inch feathers shine like jewelry. I’ve known that my collection of feathers was quite large. I’ve always thought that these silver feathers were somehow made for me. They always appear after I was in harms way. Holding on to a feather brings me comfort. I clean up my feathery mess and place everything back inside the box. My eyes glance at the digital clock sitting on my desk. I scowl. I have 2 minutes to get downtown. I hurry and change and run out the house.
By the time I reach Aunt Glyn’s restaurant, I’m 20 minutes late. She’s already ready to cut my head off. All she tells me is to get to work and leaves for the rest of the day. I cook and clean until the sun is sucked away in the black sky. The restaurant empties itself out. I replace a dysfunctional light bulb until I hear the bells ring by the entrance door. I look down from my ladder.
“Sorry we’re closed,” I say to the young man standing in a leather jacket. He stares back at me. He doesn’t look like he wants to order a crab and cabbage dish. Feeling as uneasy as possible, I climb down my ladder and wipe my hands over my dotted apron. I repeat, “We’re closed.”
“You’re in danger.”
The words that escape his lips perplex me and I am left to think about what he’s saying.
“Listen, you need to leave. I’m closing now.”
I’m not usually afraid of random strangers, but this guy is different. His face expression is demanding and emits authority. He takes a drastic step closer. I step back and gulp my mouth dry.
“They’re after you now. They know where you are and they are going to come and get you.”
“I’m sorry... Who are you?” I ask, walking towards the telephone.
“There isn’t enough time.”
“Leave or I will call the police,” my voice begins to shake.
“You need to come with me right now.”
“Leave or I will—”
Suddenly, the glass windows shatter to millions of piece. I scream and shut my eyes at the shocking sight. I take cover underneath a table. Two long legged men dressed in strange white suits jump right in and toss the table to the other end of the room. In complete shock, my eyes open wide. Then, one of them groans and falls to the ground. I crawl to the buffet stand. I see the weird guy throw swift punches at the freakish men in white. I gasp, trying not to make a sound. I feel the fragments of glass under my legs, pricking my skin. Suddenly, I’m being pulled.
“Come on, let’s go!”
I open my eyes and do as he says. We get outside out of the war zone that Aunt Glyn’s restaurant turned into and jump into his vehicle. The guy wastes no time pressing on the gas. I hear gunshots and scream as I tuck my head between my knees. I don’t realize I’m crying until my knees are soaked. We’re going so fast, I get dizzy. Lightning dashes in the black sky and a storm brews in a matter of seconds.
“What’s going on?!” I shout. I watch the guy shake his head. I’m a little shaken, “Take me home!”
“No can do,” he says, shifting gears.
I knit my brows together, “What the hell do you mean no! Take me home!”
I attempt to punch the guy’s arm, but it only hurts my fist. He seems unfazed by my attack. I groan and tuck my battered hand under my leg. With my free hand, I wipe my wet face. I tell myself to calm down. The car eases behind a city bus in the traffic up the main road.
Without thinking thoroughly, I pop the car door open and make a run for it to the bus. I hear the guy yelling out to me to return. I slam myself to the bus doors, begging the driver to open up. I jump on and sit on the empty green bus. I know that after the stoplight, this bus will turn around in a different lane and take me away from the weird stranger.
I reach a few blocks away from home and I get off the bus. I run against the sidewalk. My legs ache and I’m out of breath. I look behind me and stop to get some air in my lungs. The rain falls like knives on my freezing skin. Almost there, I find myself limping. I curse breathlessly. My socks are soaked in my shoes, making my stride heavier. What the hell just happened? I can’t wrap my mind around it. Everything happened so fast. I’m suddenly scared for my life.
Before I can blink the water out my eyes, I see a large lightning bolt strike my house down into flames. I watch the windows breaks and the roof melt. Too close, my skin has fellowship with burning rocks from the explosion. I scream and fall. I feel my body being roughly pulled again. Everything goes black.

My head wobbles back and forth, hitting something hard. I flutter my eyes to open. I lift my head from leaning against a glass. I’m in the car. The stranger’s car. It’s still dead night out the window. I stare at the shiny moon running the other way. We were far from civilization as I notice scarce trees, flat land and one long road. Where did the storm go? I moan and feel my throat burn from dryness. I look to my side and see the intense driver speeding the car to a curvy road ahead. I can barely speak straightforward.
“Where am I?” I mumble.
“Not far enough,” I hear his stern voice, slicing through my brain. I try to sit up straight in my seat.
“Who are you? Why are you taking me? W-where are you taking me?”
He gives me glances, cautious, and answers, “Texas, maybe… Cross the boarder to Mexico, if things get iffy.”
“If things get iffy?” I repeat, almost spitting, “What are you talking about? Are you crazy, mister? I think you have the wrong person. Bring me back!”
“I’ve been protecting you for sixteen years, Save. You need to trust me,” he says in a hush. The way he says my name leaves shivers in my back.
“Who are you?!” I scream.
“You’re guardian angel,” he speaks.
I hold my breath and shake my head, “Talk normal talk.”
“My name is Luck Sterling and I’m your guardian angel. You can trust me. And trust me, it won’t be long before they don’t find your dead body.”
Feeling dizzy, “I’m dead?”
“No, but you will be if you don’t listen to me. I need to get you out of Baltimore and into a safe place.”
“But, who were those men—the ones in the suits?”
“They’re demons,” he answers.
“D-demons? How? They looked like men,” I ask.
“Demons can take on any form.”
Silence hangs in the air.
“So how do I know you’re not a demon?”
“I told you I’m an angel.”
“Shut up. That makes no sense. No such thing as guardian angels or demons or anything. That’s all fantasy stuff,” I say.
Talking too much starts to ache my stomach. He stares at me from the corner of his eye. I try to ignore it. I begin to hate the tone he speaks to me with.
“Stop being stupid. There is more to this world than you think. I’ll treat your idiocy as stubbornness.”
I cross my arms, fury boiling inside, even though I don’t understand what he means.
“All those feathers… they’re yours?” I ask.
“I tried sending you a message. But, everything passes you by.”
“Stop criticizing me,” I say. I hear him scoff. I dart him and angry look, but he doesn’t pay attention to me. “I’m not stupid.”
“Zephon is sending his minions to come after you.”
“Who?”
“Zephon, the Princedom leader.”
“Why are they after me?”
“You’re the Key, Save. You’re what everyone wants to get their hands on.”

The sun lifts its bodice to the white sky. I listen to birds chirp in naked trees, revealing its songs, revealing its secrets. I watch Luck come out the gas store with a pair of water bottles and other things confined in a plastic bag. I’m actually thankful he got water. I familiarize myself with the way he walks as he nears the car. Now that it is daylight, I can see him clearly. He’s mighty. I can see it in the way he moves. He’s tall, appears 17, and has a muscular build. His olive skin glows in the sun. His dark brown hair flows back and a little falls to the side. His enigmatic light grey eyes are tough, yet distant. His t-shirt hugs him tight enough to divulge his sharp shapes. I configure my brain to look elsewhere when he pops the door open.
“The man said there is a motel 20 minutes away,” he tells me, robotically. His hands drop the plastic bag on my lap. My eager fingers twist the water bottle open and drain it in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thirsty. Taking a breather, I notice there are cloth bandages and rubbing alcohol in the bag. I grimace as if they have my name on it.

“Ow!” I yell out. I hear Luck sigh. “That really hurt.”
“Well, if you quit squirming around…”
“It’s not my fault,” I murmur. His icy eyes tell me otherwise.
Luck is peeling off the glass shards that stuck in my skin since last night. He holds my leg in his firm hand, cleaning my thin cuts. I preoccupy my mind with figuring out where the foul stench is coming from. The walls are yellow. I don’t know if they were painted yellow… or they just used to be white a hundred years ago. I go with the latter because there are also holes around. Water damage stains the ceiling with brown rings. The linoleum tiles are bumpy and uneven. The bed screeches every second like there is no tomorrow. The floral bed sheets probably suffer depression. I toil with loose threads.
“There, I’m done,” he says in a more relaxed voice, as he rolls the excess cloth away. Our eyes meet for the first time without our guards up. His expression looks less noxious. I’m not used to it.
“H-how long are we staying here?” I stutter out.
He shakes his head and breaks the gaze, “Not long.”
I roll my eyes. Please, be vaguer. He rises from the edge of the bed, which makes the bed rock and me wiggle on it. I pull my knees to my chest. Luck pulls out triangle sandwiches out the bag and tosses one to me. I fail to catch it, so it bounces past me. I open it and take a bite. It’s cold and soggy. Eating it makes me notice how tired I really am. I also notice that I smell bad. Barely able to finish my gross sandwich, I collapse my body on the bed. I listen to the last screech. I begin to worry.
“What will happen to Aunt Glyn and everybody that I know?” I ask, feeling shaky again. When I don’t hear his solid voice ring in my ears, I turn my head around to see no Luck. Suddenly, I hear noise a spewing shower makes. It echoes lightly and steam escapes the crack in the bathroom door. I can see the sun already yawning below in the sky through the singular window. I let my eyelids close. I thought it would stop the tears from leaving its home. I squeeze the bed sheets and sob into slumber.

“Save. Let’s go.”
I rest my eyes on the curved lines the mountains make. They create different greens and the clouds make streaks across the dawn. I breathe in the rusty air and decide to follow orders. I enter the car and secure myself in the seat belts. Mountains don’t move for me.
“What’s the Key?” I ask. The words he said last night come back to me now.
Luck starts the engine and flies the car down the nude road.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not helpful,” I say in a low tone.
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
I sink in my seat and look out the window. Although it’s sweating hot outside, my insides feel frozen as ice.