Wind

 

 

Angel2

 

Angel

 

Work in progress

 

 

into the dark night

 In the depths of the night, a single candle flickered against the darkened walls of an abandoned chapel. Its soft glow cast eerie shadows across the dusty pews, as if the very spirits of the past were dancing in the flickering light. The silence was palpable, a heavy blanket that threatened to suffocate all sound. Even the distant hoot of an owl seemed muffled, as if it were being swallowed up by the endless night.

A figure knelt before the altar, head bowed in prayer. Their hands were clasped tightly together, nails digging into the soft skin of their palms. They rocked gently back and forth, the rhythmic motion soothing a soul that had known nothing but pain and suffering for as long as they could remember. As the candle burned lower, casting long, twisting shadows across their face, they felt a strange sensation begin to build within them. It started as a tingling at the base of their spine, spreading outward in waves, traveling up their arms and down their legs, filling them with a warmth that was both foreign and familiar all at once.

They stood, their eyes drifting upward toward the stained-glass window above the altar. The light from the candle cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the ancient glass, transforming the images of saints and angels into a whirlwind of vibrant hues. And then, as if in response to some unspoken command, the figure reached out, their fingers brushing against the cool surface of the window. As their touch made contact, a jolt of energy surged through them, and they felt themselves begin to change. Their skin stretched and twisted, their bones contorting and reshaping before their very eyes. In the blink of an eye, they had become something else entirely. Something beautiful. Something free.