Preparing for Glory 3 and JuPerWriMo results

Well everybody, it's the last day of July, and JuPerWriMo is officially over.  How did I do?

Abysmally.

I've written for Preparing for Glory three times--count them: three--in July.  I am a terrible, terrible person when it comes to staying on schedule.

Maybe that's because I'm terrible at making schedules.

BUT that does not mean that I will simply drop Preparing for Glory and never speak of it again.  No, I will not.  I promised to write a book, and I will write a book.  I am also getting the itch to start writing my next Defenders of Light book again, so I may have to relegate Preparing for Glory to one day a week (not that I was doing more than one day per week anyway), but IT SHALL BE WRITTEN, for I DECREE IT!

That said, I am terribly terriby sorry that I did not write more in the month of July.  To make up for it, here is the third "chapter" of Preparing for Glory (when I do the editing, I may combine Chapters 2 and 3).  There are bits that I don't like as much as the previous two chapters, but hey, it's a rough draft.  What do you want, perfection?  (yes, whispers the corner of Elisa's mind.  I need it.  I NEED it.  Well, too bad, mind)

I hope you enjoy this story I am crafting.  I have never done a Sci-fi before, and I feel like my writing narration style is similar to my other books, but hopefully I can write "adult" enough to separate it from my other books, with their younger target audience.  Anyway, enough about my writing woes.  Here is Chapter 3:

Chapter 3

            Seth’s training, training he’d never thought he’d need, flashed back to him.  Do not approach a Seraphim.  Do not transport goods for a Seraphim or treat a Seraphim as a passenger.  All trade to and from the Seraphim’s home world has been suspended.  Do not allow any Seraphim to gain control of any advanced technology.  If you come across anything related to Seraphim or their home world, report to the Interplanetary Customs Disciplinary Council.

            Here was a Seraphim, lying unconscious on the ground, thousands of light years from its home planet.  How was this supposed to align with all the reports and warnings that he’d received as a pilot over the past two years?

            Phoebe quickly overcame her own personal aversion towards Seraphim—that, also, had been engrained in society fairly well since the discovery of the Seraphim—and crawled back to it.  She touched the Seraphim’s arm, then cheek, then cupping her fingers under the Seraphim’s nostrils.  “She’s breathing,” said Phoebe.

            “She?” asked Seth, still unsure of what to do.

            “Yeah,” she mumbled, gingerly lifting the cloak off of the Seraphim and setting it to the side.  “The males have this frilly thing on their head, like a rooster’s comb.” Phoebe flared her fingers on her left hand over her head, illustrating the frill.

            “You know males from females?” said Seth.

            “I was obsessed when the Seraphim home world was discovered.  Weren’t you?”

            “Not exactly.”

            “Oh.”  Without so much as a glance at Seth, Phoebe examined the Seraphim’s wounds, pressing her fingers around the head wound, then letting her hand hover above the broken wing.  “Come and help me.  We’ve got to get her to my father.  Do you think it’s safe to move her?”

            Seth shook himself out of his stupor.  “What?  No, we have to report this.  If she’s here, then there could be others.  They get their hands on a spacecraft, their war will spread throughout the galaxy.”

            “Oh, can you put your training in the closet for once?” Phoebe snapped.  She glared at Seth.  “I don’t know about Seraphim, but if some human was beaten until they fell unconscious and they still hadn’t woken up, then I’d have them halfway to the nearest hospital by now.  Now, if you want to join those Earthkeepers and be a bigoted humanist, treating every nonhuman as a subperson, then this marriage is off.”

            Seth felt his face burn.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—”

            “Just help me pick her up,” Phoebe interrupted.

            Pushing back his training, which was screaming at him that he should report a rogue Seraphim’s presence on Earth to some form of authority, Seth squatted down and scooped the Seraphim into his arms as gently as he could.  She was surprisingly light—no more than sixty pounds.  The soft touch of the down on the Seraphim’s arms surprised him—he knew Seraphim were covered in feathers, but he hadn’t expected the feathers to be so delicate.  The Seraphim was wearing some sort of hand-knitted halter top, which allowed her wings to hang freely out the back.  They trailed along the ground when Seth stood, along with her long tail.  “Can you help?  I can’t walk like this.”

            Phoebe nodded.  She scooped up a small bag that had fallen on the ground—which Seth assumed the Seraphim had been carrying—and looped it over her shoulder. Then she slipped the tail around Seth’s arm and awkwardly grabbed the Seraphim’s wings.  She tried to fold them shut.

            As Phoebe moved her broken wing, the Seraphim moaned.  Her eyelids fluttered but remained shut, and she whimpered something that sounded like, “Daddy,” before falling silent once more.

            Seth stared at the Seraphim’s face.  It was strange, looking at something so familiar to a human and yet so foreign.  Her nose was narrow, her lips a pale pink, her feathers a soft white except for her blue eyelashes, a scattering of blue feathers sprinkled across her cheekbones, and blue feathers along her jawline.  The long feathers on the crown of her head were also blue, to match the blue of her wings and the blue that ran along the back of her arms.  Yet despite all the feathers and her misshapen feet, Seth might have mistaken her for a teenager dressing up in a costume for a media convention.  No wonder humans were so enamored with Seraphim when they first found them.  Of all the intelligent alien species they’d come across, the Seraphim looked the most like them.

            “Okay, I’ve got them,” Phoebe said, breaking Seth out of his musings.  “Let’s go before anyone sees us.”

            With a nod, Seth started walking.  He and Phoebe moved forward at an awkward mixture of a shuffle and a jog.  As they headed for the cover of the trees, Seth’s eyes flicked up towards a camera that overlooked the cargo pads.  Was the camera pointed in the direction of the Earthkeepers’ attack?  Had anyone been watching?  An uneasy feeling twisted his stomach—he’d never actually paid attention to what the consequences of breaching the laws surrounding Seraphim were, but at the very least he’d be grounded without pay if he were found out.  His ship might even be taken away.

            Phoebe led the way between the trees, finding trails where most people thought there were none.  She’d grown up in these forests, run along their many paths, a child of a small town that exploded in prosperity when the spaceport was built.  It was the spaceport that had sparked her interest in repairing technocrafts, but she’d never lost her roots in the woods.

            It wasn’t long before they came across the first outbuildings of the town.  Seth was glad—though the Seraphim was lighter than a human, his arms were still getting tired.  Plus, his feet kept bumping into Phoebe’s, and they nearly tripped several times.

            They skirted around the edge of the town, keeping a line of trees between them and the nearest houses.  Eventually, they came across a small building that looked like a house that had been partly swallowed by a storage unit that was tacked onto the back. Seth knew a large sign on the side of the building facing the road read, “Russel McKay, Veterinarian.”  A large fenced-in backyard ran along the storage unit half of the building.  A large pepper-brown mutt, with chocolate eyes and floppy pointed ears, half-heartedly wagged his tail as they approached.  A low growl grumbled in his throat.

            “Hey, Fortitude,” Phoebe sang.  “It’s just us.”

            The growl stopped and the wagging increased, though Fortitude followed them until they reached a gate in the fence.

            Phoebe kicked up the latch with her foot and pushed the gate open with her knee.  She and Seth shuffled through the yard to the back door.  “Wait here,” she instructed. She gently let the Seraphim’s wings down to the ground and slipped inside.

            Seth stood awkwardly holding the Seraphim while he listened to Phoebe move through the building.  Fortitude sniffed the Seraphim’s wings, then Seth’s arm.  He licked Seth, his long, wet tongue wrapping around his arm with each swipe.  “Fort,” Seth whispered, trying not to wriggle under Fortitude’s attentions, “stop it.”

            “Dad,” Phoebe called from inside the building.  “Hey Dad, I need your help with something.”

            Seth heard Phoebe’s dad say something, and Phoebe respond.  He couldn’t hear what was said, and he was getting anxious standing out where someone could see him holding a girl with giant wings in his arms.  Plus, Fortitude had moved on from Seth’s arm to his pant leg.

            Before Seth could successfully nudge Fortitude away with his foot, Phoebe called, “Okay Seth, come on in.”

            He pushed the door further open with his shoulder and slipped inside.

            The inside of the storage unit was segmented on the right side into kennels furnished with clean rugs and litter boxes.  There were a couple of dogs sleeping in the kennels and a parrot sleeping near the front, but other than that the kennels were empty.  A wall to the left separated the kennels from a stable for larger animals, and a half-open hallway ran between the two segments.  At the end of the hallway was a door that led to the house half of the building.  The house had been refurbished into operating rooms, exam rooms, and an office up front.  Seth stepped sideways through the hallway, trying to be careful not to tread on the Seraphim’s wings, up to the front office.  There was a large window that let the vet see into the lobby, and Seth peered through the window.

            Phoebe was sitting on the edge of a couch in the office, and her dad Russell McKay sat behind it his desk.  Phoebe looked up and smiled, and Dr. McKay followed her gaze.  His gaze fell on the Seraphim in Seth’s arms, and his eyes widened.  He stood and rushed forward, his long white lab coat flapping behind him, and said, “Put her on the couch.”

            Seth slipped into the office, and Phoebe helped him lay the Seraphim face-down on the couch. While they were trying to organize her limbs and wings in what looked like a comfortable position, Dr. McKay locked the door to the veterinary clinic and closed blinds on the windows.

            When Dr. McKay returned to the office, he immediately shooed Phoebe and Seth out and closed the office door.  They watched through the large window as he knelt next to the Seraphim, examined her eyes, felt around her neck until he stopped at the back of her neck, then gently felt along her wings.  He stormed out of the office, entered a storage room, and came back with a large brace and several pieces of wire and foam.  After some fiddling, he adjusted the Seraphim’s wing and used the brace and foam as a makeshift splint.

            As Dr. McKay set the Seraphim’s bones, Phoebe said, “Thank you for helping her.  I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

            A rush of guilt filled Seth.  “I’m the one that should apologize.  My training got in the way, and all you wanted to do was help someone in pain.”

            Phoebe nodded her understanding.  They watched in silence for a few moments, then Phoebe asked, “Where do you think she came from?”

            Seth shrugged.  “Maybe she was captured before the embargo occurred.  Or maybe someone smuggled her here.”

            “But why is she all alone?  Did she escape?  All she had was this.”  Phoebe tugged the bag off her shoulder and unzipped it.  Inside were some small sealed boxes, some clothes, and a small book that looked like a diary.  Phoebe riffled through its pages.  It opened to where a Polaroid-style photograph was slipped inside.  Seth had only seen one of those in a museum.  He remembered being fascinated that a non-digital photo could be printed off immediately after being taken.  Yet the existence of this particular style of photograph was itself not the strangest thing.  In the photograph, a little child, white-faced and blue-feathered, sat on the lap of an older gentleman, with three men varying from their early twenties to thirties clustered around them.  All five smiled into the camera.  While the girl’s wings weren’t obvious, Seth caught a glimpse of bright blue feathers over her shoulder.

            “How long does it take a Seraphim to grow up?” asked Seth.

            Phoebe picked up the photo.  “I don’t know.”  She glanced up, then pointed.  “Look.”

            Seth stared through the window.  The Seraphim was waking up.

Preparing for Glory 2

Chapter 2

            Seth and Phoebe met, as was their custom, on the hill overlooking the spaceport.  Seth arrived first, and he waited anxiously, running his hands through his short dark hair, until he caught sight of Phoebe weaving through the trees.  She was wearing her mechanic’s uniform of grease-stained overalls with wrenches and screwdrivers sticking out of her pockets, and her long auburn hair, streaked with gold, was tied back in a ponytail.  Seth’s face split into a grin.  He never knew he could love someone so much until he met Phoebe.  He started towards her, and Phoebe in turn skipped up the hill and practically launched herself into his arms.  They kissed long and deep, until Phoebe broke away and said, “Well hello there, Officer Parker.”

            “Officer?” Seth mumbled.  “I’m just a simple pilot.”

            Phoebe tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought for sure you’d be an officer by now.”

            “Nah,” said Seth, “An officer must go where the military commands, but a free pilot—”

            “—goes wherever the stars may shine,” Phoebe finished with him.  She pecked him on the cheek once more, and they held hands as they walked up the path to their usual lookout point on the hillside.

            Vista Spaceport was in the middle of a forested canyon in the northern Rocky Mountains. Though it was somewhat out of the way, many forest-dwelling extraterrestrial species felt more comfortable coming to such an underdeveloped location.  Seth had always loved the view from his and Phoebe’s special lookout point, the shiny metal of the shuttles and cargo ships landing and leaving juxtaposed against the deep green of the Douglas Firs and the craggy mountain spires.  He and Phoebe clambered on top of their boulder and leaned shoulder to shoulder, their pinky fingers intertwining.  Seth sighed.  As much as he loved space travel, it was good to be home.

            “I’ve missed you so much,” said Phoebe.

            “Me too,” Seth replied.  “Space was getting too lonely.”

            “I bet you’re glad you planned this two-week break.”

            “Yeah,” Seth said, “but if I keep taking vacation time there will be no time left for when we get married.”

            It slipped out before Seth even realized it.  Phoebe turned to him, her hazel eyes growing wider and wider and a smile slowly spreading across her face.  Seth felt his cheeks burn red.  They’d talked before as if they would spend their whole lives together, but neither of them had ever said the “M” word.  He hadn’t even discussed it with Phoebe’s father yet.

            “Married?” Phoebe yelped.  She covered her mouth with her fingers and squealed, hopping off the rock and bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “Really?  Do you mean it?”

            Seth scrambled off the rock.  He ran his hands through his hair, suddenly unsure of what to say.  “Yes.  I mean…if you’ll have me.  I know I’m not much, but the ship will be paid off in six months, and then we can go anywhere, do anything.  You can be my mechanic and I’ll be your pilot and…”

            Phoebe shut him up by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.  She pulled away.  “Yes.”

            “An—and what?”

            “Yes I’ll marry you,” she said, giggling.  She poked one finger into his chest.  “But you’d better give me a proper proposal, because I won’t stand for anything less than scattered rose petals and a candlelit dinner.”

            The proposal!  Seth groaned inwardly.  There was so much he’d messed up just now, from forgetting to ask the permission of the father to casually dropping the word in conversation instead of having a proper proposal.  Yet one thing was right—she’d accepted him.  She’d said yes.

            “This calls for a celebration!” said Phoebe.  She drew away from Seth and held his hand.  “I’ve kept our hoverbikes in ready-to-go spit-shine condition, if you want to go for a spin.”

            The shock of Phoebe’s acceptance finally passed, and happiness bubbled in Seth’s chest.  “Sounds perfect.”

            They headed down the trail, hand in hand, both giggling and nearly falling over each other like foolish schoolgirls.  Then Phoebe stopped, and her giggles ceased.  She clenched Seth’s hand.

            Seth followed Phoebe’s gaze.  They had nearly arrived at the spaceport, and they could see the cargo pads.  A figure in a long brown cloak shuffled along the empty pads, glancing furtively behind it.  The hood of the cloak was up, and the creature beneath the cloak was misshapen, humped.  The hump moved, and Seth wondered what it was.  Perhaps the creature was an insectile extraterrestrial, and the hump was its extra legs.  But why was it bothering to walk on two legs?

            Then Seth noticed what was worrying Phoebe.  Scurrying like rats, moving stealthily from crate to crate in a silent effort to approach the creature, were five men.  They wore black leather jackets with the emblem of a burning Earth emblazoned on the shoulders.  Earthkeepers.

            Earthkeepers felt that all extraterrestrial species were abominations, that Earth should be for Earth, and they were constantly protesting humans’ trade with other sentient species.  Though they rarely performed on terrorist levels, there were always a few cases per week of some poor visiting alien that was mobbed in the name of the Earthkeepers.

            When the hooded creature was in the middle of an empty pad, the Earthkeepers slithered out of their hiding places and attacked.  The creature whirled around and tried to escape, but it was obvious it couldn’t walk very well.  It tripped on the hem of its cloak and fell to the ground.  There was a flash of blue as one of its limbs slipped out from under the cloak, then the Earthkeepers surrounded the creature and Seth lost sight of it.

            Before Seth fully realized what was going on, Phoebe’s hand slipped out of his and she took off running towards the Earthkeepers.  Seth ran right behind her, but he stumbled to a stop in shock when the Earthkeepers started kicking and punching the creature.  It shrieked in pain, and he heard the sickening snap of breaking bones.  Bile rose in Seth’s throat, and he jerked himself back into action and started running once more.

            Phoebe had never stopped.  She took a wrench from the pocket of her overalls and started swinging it wildly, yelling at the top of her lungs.  The Earthkeepers stumbled back, surprised at her ferocity, before moving to surround her.

            “Stop this!  Stop it right now!” Phoebe screamed. “You lay one more finger on that person, and I’ll shove each of you into a cargo hold that isn’t atmospherized.”

            “That’s no person—it’s an alien, and it has no right to be on our planet!” said the leader.  He grabbed Phoebe’s shoulder.

            “Hey!” Seth yelled.  “Get your filthy hands off her!”

            The leader turned towards Seth, and his eyes automatically fell on the bright red V emblazoned on Seth’s pilot uniform.  The pilot and security uniforms looked almost identical, and Seth could sense the Earthkeeper trying to decipher which Seth was.  If he was security, Seth only had to press a button on his belt and backup would rush to his location.  Unfortunately, he was just a pilot.  Seth squared his shoulders and did his best to tower over the Earthkeepers.

            Finally, the Earthkeeper shoved Phoebe away.  “Let’s go,” he said to his crew.  They scattered and disappeared into the forest.

            Phoebe flashed Seth a relieved smile, then knelt down next to the collapsed cloak-shrouded person.  One clawed foot, relieved of the odd-shaped shoe that sat next to it, stuck out from under the fabric, as did a long white feathered tail that ended in a fan of blue feathers.  Phoebe carefully lifted the cloak off the person and scrambled back in surprise.

            It took a moment for Seth’s mind to register what he saw.  Two wings with long, blue feathers, one wing crumpled underneath the body while the other lay at an awkward angle.  Limp arms, hands held near a blood-spattered face that was half-hidden underneath long feathers. The long tail and birdlike feet.

            He was looking at a Seraphim.

Preparing for Glory 1

As promised, here is the first part of Preparing for Glory (I have a lot of catching up to do on this nearly half-over month).

Chapter 1

            The night was clear, and the light from the silver moon cast the forest into a fairy dream.  The shadows from the gilded trees stretched into the darkness, and mist drifted just above the ground.  But the beauty was lost on the drunkard.  He stumbled along the dirt road—one of the only unpaved roads left on the planet—his empty beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.  The bottle’s brown glass reflected the moonlight, a glinting light in the darkness.

            Something crackled under the drunkard’s feet.  He squinted and spotted a paper flyer under his right sneaker.  Teetering unsteadily, he bent down and picked it up.  After several long seconds he realized it was an advertisement for a travelling circus performing in the next village.  Grunting, the man pushed the paper into his pocket and continued on his way.

            A flickering golden light off somewhere in the woods made the man pause.  He shuffled, turning to face the light, and opened his eyes wide in an effort to bring his blurred vision into focus.  The light wavered and dimmed, and a part of the man’s hazy mind wanted to find the source of the light before it disappeared.  Another part told him to ignore the light and continue on, but his curiosity grew the better of him and the man stepped into the trees.

            Branches clutched at the man’s clothes and snagged his hair, but he pushed on.  The light before him disappeared, and in a fit of frustration the man pushed through a tangle of scrub oak.  He paused then, and his empty beer bottle slipped from his hand and clattered across the ground.

            Ten feet away, separated from the man by a patch of seedy grass, was a creature that could only have existed in myth.  Long, white limbs and a lithe body were shielded partly from view by sleek enormous wings.  The feathers gleamed, though their color was lost in the moonlight.

            The creature raised its feathered head, revealing the face of a beautiful woman.  She stared at the man with large, doe-like eyes, her body trembling from cold or pain.  Finally she spoke, and her musical voice sent shivers down the man’s spine.  The meaning of the words were lost on him, and when she spoke again he shook his head.

            The woman lifted one wing, crying out in pain, and revealed a winged child asleep against her chest.  The woman gathered the child in her arms and struggled to her feet, revealing the tattered gown she wore, stained with blood, her misshapen feet, the long, sinuous tail that swayed behind her.

            The man stepped backwards, but the winged creature staggered forward, pressing the child into his arms.  He tried to push the woman away, but she clung to him, her voice pleading, her clawed hands scratching at his arms.  Finally, the man grabbed the child, just to get that woman away from him.  The child’s eyes fluttered open briefly before closing once more.

            The woman smiled then, and tears glistened in her eyes.  She slumped to the ground, lay down, and was still.

            The man stood frozen until the creature’s labored breathing stopped.  He tried to think, but the alcohol numbed his mind.  The man didn’t want this child—this misshapen angel.  He was so thirsty.

            Groaning, the man bent down to retrieve his bottle—perhaps there were a few drops left.  Something in his pocket crackled.  The paper.  The circus flyer.

            The drunkard licked his lips and held the child close to his chest.  The sleeping child turned towards him in response and cuddled against his warm body.  An idea formed in the drunkard’s hazy mind, and he made his way back to the dirt road with more care than when he’d left it.

            Soon he would have enough money for all the alcohol he desired.

*          *          *

            Josias was tired.  With every day that passed he became more aware of the aches in his back, the pains in his knees, the way his hand trembled when he held a cup.  But nothing compared to the hole in his heart.

            He stood in front of the open kitchen pantry, barely aware of what he was staring at.  Uncooked grits and egg substitute sat on nearly empty shelves.  Josias decided he wasn’t hungry after all.  He closed the door.

            A pleasant ringing filled the air.  Sighing, Josias gave a melancholy, “Hello.”

            A screen on the refrigerator, which usually told Josias that he was out of milk and only had a small handful of grapes and an old head of lettuce by way of fruits and vegetables, winked and changed to show the face of his oldest son Matt.  “Hey, Dad,” said Matthew.  He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his narrow nose.  “How are you?”

            Josias shrugged.  “Same as always.”

            “You holding up?  Still going on your walks?”

            Josias looked away.  He couldn’t lie—not to his own son.  “I haven’t felt much like walking lately.”

            Matt sighed.  “What about your vegetable garden?  Are you doing that this year?”

            “I haven’t decided yet.”

            “Dad,” Matt said, and when Josias looked back at the refrigerator screen Matt’s face was stern.  “As a doctor and as your son, I have to say, stop it!  Mom wouldn’t want you to live like this—shut off from everything you love.  You have a lot of life left to live—you’re only fifty-three.”

            “An old fifty-three.”

            Matt sighed again and ran a hand through his short blond hair.  “Look, I hate seeing you so sad.  Michael’s spring break is in two weeks, and I’ll talk to John and see if we can all come up to visit you—you can pester John about that new girlfriend of his.”

            Josias chuckled softly.  “Yeah, maybe John will be the first one to give me some grandkids.”

            “Yes!” Matt pointed at the screen.  “You just keep thinking of those grandkids you need to love.  I’ll see you in two weeks.  I love you, Dad!”

            “Love you too.”

            The refrigerator screen went blank, then proceeded to inform Josias that he was low on practically every form of food.  Muttering under his breath, Josias turned away.  Matt was right—he shouldn’t stay cooped up in the house all day—but he’d been in a deep depression ever since Larue died.  But if he was going to be around to pester John, he was going to need some food.  A walk to the market would do him good. Grabbing a jacket, Josias headed out the door with a canvas bag draped over his arm.

            Josias’s house was a couple miles outside of town.  He owned a good-sized parcel of land that had been handed down through the family for generations, though most of that land was forest. Many times over the years developers had wanted him to sell it, but he couldn’t part with it.  The land was untouched, virgin, and though there were plenty of forests left on Earth hardly any of it could be considered truly wild. It was all cultivated and carefully controlled to keep the ecosystems in balance—as though nature hadn’t been able to do that for billions of years beforehand.  For that reason alone, Josias felt his land was sacred.  It would remain in his family until the day he died, and hopefully long afterwards.

            The sunlight felt warm on Josias’s face, though it did little to warm his heart.  Still, the farther he walked the more his spirits lifted until he had to admit that Matt was, once again, right.  Then he thought about how often Larue would walk with him hand-in-hand to town, sometimes in a sundress and a wide-brimmed hat and sometimes wearing one of those sleek modern two-piece outfits made for comfort, and his heart crumbled.  How could he live without the woman he loved?

            Right before he entered town the forest ended, giving way to a community park. It was usually an empty field with a couple of baseball diamonds at one end and a playground supervised by robot nannies, but today large colorful tents filled the green, triangular flags fluttering in the morning breeze. An elephant trumpeted somewhere among the tents, and the chittering of monkeys filled the trees on the edge of the forest.

            Three children stood clutching the ropes that cordoned off the area, and the oldest read the words on a sign to his younger siblings, “Come one! Come all! Let your minds be astounded and your hearts amazed at the Spectacular Sterling Brother Circus. Gates open at 6 pm, show starts at 6:30. Carnival open throughout the weekend.”

            The three children talked excitedly to each other and ran home to tell their parents. Josias stared at the sign. He had never heard of the Spectacular Sterling Brothers, but Larue had always loved the circus—especially the acrobats.  Perhaps…perhaps it would do his heart good to go to such a light-hearted affair and think of her.

*          *          *

            Six-fifteen found Josias standing in line to enter the big top, one ticket clutched in his hand.  But when he’d found his seat and the entertainment began, Josias was severely disappointed. The Spectacular Sterling Brothers were not like the circuses he’d gone to in the past. The animals were underfed, and there was no sense of love between them and their trainers. The clowns weren’t funny, and the acrobats were less than ideal. During a short break between acts, Josias slipped out of the tent.

            The sun had gone down, and Josias wandered aimlessly between tents and closed carnival booths.  With the main show performing in the big top, the rest of the circus was deserted.  Signs decorated in old-style script advertised fire dancers, freak shows, and talking beasts.  One sign caught his eye:

            Coming soon: Fallen straight from heaven, view the beautiful Angelica, a vision among mortals.

            The sign featured a painted portrait of a young girl in a white gown kneeling on a pile of white sheets.  Her short golden locks framed her face, and her large blue eyes stared off into heaven. Sapphire wings rose above her shoulders and gracefully sloped down to the floor.  Blue feathers were scattered across the sheets.

            Could the Sterling Brothers really have come across an angelic child, or was some poor girl getting trained to wear satin wings and sail through the air using trick wires? Josias felt the whole circus was a sham. The condition the animals were in was enough to convince him to call the authorities.

            A child’s scream pierced through the night air.  Adrenaline coursed through Josias’s body, and he ran towards the high-pitched shrieks, his older age and depression forgotten.  They were coming from a hastily-constructed wooden shed.  Josias slammed into the plywood door, and it crashed open.

            Three men held down a struggling child while a fourth stood above her wielding a bone saw in one hand. There was a confusion of movement, too many limbs for one small child, and it took a moment for Josias to realize that the child had wings—long, deep-blue wings that flailed and thrashed, knocking over buckets and trays, as the child tried to escape its captors.

            The men didn’t notice Josias standing in the doorway with all the commotion the child was causing.  The man with the bone saw grabbed something that thrashed above the child’s legs, a long white tail with a blue-feathered tuft on the end, and pulled it straight.  He lowered the saw towards the tail, and the child jerked.  The saw scraped against the tail, and a thin red line showed up sharp against the white.
            “Hold her steady!” the saw-wielder snapped.  “Why hasn’t she been given anesthesia?”

            “She has,” one of the other men said. “It’s not working!”

            “Then get the tranks!”

            “You wanna kill her?”

            Josias’s rage over the child’s anguish overflowed. “What are you doing?” he roared.

            The men fell silent and stared at Josias.  Their grip on the child slipped, and it clawed at one of the men.  He yelled, and the child slipped out of their grasps and scrambled to Josias in a flurry of feathers.  The child clutched at Josias’s legs and cried to him in unintelligible words.

            The poor child stared at him with large, pleading eyes.  They were the deepest blue he had ever seen—deeper than the purest gem.  The child was naked, but its body was covered in tiny feathers as soft as chick’s down.  The feathers on the child’s back and the back of its arms were blue, as were the long, graceful feathers on its wings, which trembled as they folded tight against its back. Longer blue feathers flowed down the crown of the child’s head, lying on the child’s head like human hair; they reached almost to the child’s shoulders.  The rest of the feathers were the purest white, except for blue feathers just above the child’s jaw line and a scattering of blue feathers that lay across the child’s cheekbones like freckles.  The only parts of the child’s body that wasn’t feathered were the child’s pale pink lips, the palms of its hands, and its feet, which looked more like a prehistoric raptor’s talons than a human’s feet.  Josias couldn’t tell whether the child was male or female, but he knew one thing: it was a child, and it was on the verge of tears.

            Josias’s heart melted into a soft puddle. He gently knelt down and silently pulled off his jacket, which he placed around the child’s shivering shoulders.  “Don’t worry,” he said softly.  “You’re safe now.”

            “Hey!” one man’s rough voice barked. “What are you doing?  That’s our property!”

            “This is a child,” Josias shot back.  He rose to his feet and met the man’s eyes with an unwavering glare.

            The man sneered and spat to the side.  “It sure aint human.”

            “That doesn’t matter.  This child is obviously sentient and is protected under interplanetary law.”

            “We’ve checked the databases.  There’s nothing like her in the registered species—there’s no way she’s from another planet.  No records, no rights.  And that sentience you’re talking about?  Whatever’s coming out of her mouth is no more of a language than monkey chatter.”

            Every word that left the man’s mouth turned Josias’s stomach.  He spoke in a barely-controlled growl. “There is more value in this child’s life than you could possibly imagine, yet you treat it like trash.”

            “Like I said,” said the man, sauntering up to Josias.  “That’s our property.  We can treat it however we want.”

            The child shrunk away from the man, pushing harder against Josias’s thigh.

            Josias placed one hand on the child’s head.  “Fine.  How much?”

            “What?”  The man blinked.

            “How much did you pay for the child?”

            The man thumbed his nose.  “It’s not about how much we paid.  We can make ten thousand extra in one year alone with her in our show.”

            Though Josias’s hand remained steady on the child’s head, his other clenched into a fist. If he wasn’t careful, these men would clean him out of his life’s savings.  Yet could a top price be placed on so precious a life?  Calculating quickly in his mind, he said, “Then I’ll give you thirteen thousand.”

            The man laughed once and turned towards his friends, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He turned back towards Josias.  “Twenty.”

            “Fifteen.  That’s all I can afford.” If you’re not in the database, I will need money to raise you myself, thought Josias.  “Now go get your register.”

            Not believing their good fortune, two of the men bumped their fists one on top of the other in victory and left the shack to grab the register.  When they returned, the man input the data to transfer fifteen thousand dollars to the Spectacular Sterling Brother Circus, and Josias exposed his wrist.  It was quickly scanned, and though Josias was instantly fifteen thousand dollars poorer he felt more alive than he had in months.

            The transaction complete, Josias gently lifted the winged child and cradled it in his arms. The child was surprisingly light—no more than fifteen pounds.  The child leaned its head against his shoulder and clung to his shirt with hands whose fingers were tipped with tiny claws.  Something slithered around Josias’s waist, and he stiffened until he realized it was the child’s tail.  Josias stroked the child’s head feathers with one hand and kissed it on the cheek.  “Don’t worry,” he whispered in its ear.  “I’ll take care of you.”