maninamousesuit

The woman woke in the night, saw her husband beside her in a deep slumber and wondered who he was.
She wondered for the whole day as she worked to clean the house they lived in as he toiled at the potters wheel. He returned home and his oldest son rose to greet him by the rebuffed him with harsh words. She gave him his meal and he ate without comment.
“Husband!” the woman asked, “Do you dream?”
His hands paused over his food and he looked at her.
“Dream? I dream of a meal, eaten in peace.”
She felt something break within her. Something small. It cracked as a small twig or a fine avian bone. Undaunted, she persisted.
“Do you never think of floating cities, or beauty, or how handsome your sons have grown or the music in our small daughters laughter?”
He chewed his meat twice and watched her as a hound watches.
“Is it not enough that I toil all the hours of daylight that I must listen to the mooning of a woman who spends her days staring at clouds and not enough time cleaning this sty in which I must live?”
Twice the breaking sounded within her.
He wiped his mouth.
“Wife, what you truly wish to know is, is this all there is in life?”
He pointed to himself with the knife, smiling horribly.
“There is only I and the work, all other things must yield, for it is I, and I alone who feeds and clothes us. I will rest now and you, you will keep your brood from my sight.”
He sat as she tried to silently play with her children.

That night the woman lay beside his sleeping form, listened to the air whistle in and out of his nostrils, in and out, in and out. As she watched him, she wondered who she was and what this breaking was within her.

Days passed and at every uncaring word or act to herself or her small children the same crack would sound, until she feared that she would become as unformed as the dough she kneaded for the family bread.
Then, one day he said some word designed to cause pain to the child that played at his feet and the boy ran behind her in fear. He reached for the boy, his arm raised and she stepped in front of him, her fists balled at the end of her arms.
“No more!” She cried “You will bring no more pain into this house. These children are my pride and they are good!”
Surprised, he stepped back. Then he laughed.
“I am the man in this place and I will do as I please!”
But she had seen something new flicker behind his eyes.
Fear!
He moved toward her, his arm still upraised. She heard the roar of her blood in her ears and in that moment her body seemed to reform of its own accord. Her face contorted in agony. Then her clothing ripped and two magnificent, multi-hued wings opened from her and spread between him and the child and she stood, transfigured, naked and incandescent before him. In her terrible, angelic beauty she dwarfed him and she spoke with the power of raging water.
“These children are worth more than you and from all harm, including you, I will protect them!”
In her altered eyes he appeared to her as a small craven beast with the tail of a rat. He squirmed before her gaze.
“Who are you? He said in terror.
Her voice rose so he covered his ears from the great sound.
“I AM THE MOTHER….FEAR ME!”
And he was afraid.
“LEAVE…NOW!”
He turned and ran stumbling toward the door. But at the lintel he turned and called at her.
“I will take everything you have and I will pull this house down about your ears. I will be revenged!”
“I will be here, Beast, and I will be ready”
And he was gone, the door swinging on its hinges.

She felt she could fall but would not. No! She would not.
So she wept.
As she stood over her children resting within the tent of her new limbs, the smallest one spoke.
“Oh! Mother! There is blood coming from beneath your feathers. Will you be well?”
She looked and knew that each harmful thing he had done or said had snapped the slim bones that made up the structure of her hidden wings. She also knew that, given time, he would have completely killed the divine in her. She flexed painfully and smiled.
“It may be a long time before they are powerful enough for flight, but, for now they are strong enough to shelter those I care for. Yes, daughter, I will be well.”
She stroked her childs hair and heard her sleep-heavy voice say.
“My mother is an angel.”
And then all her children were asleep.
The angel stayed awake, a sentinel, a guard watching the horizon, waiting for the sunrise, which she knew would come.

MsJacquiiC

Moved post to Short Stories section.
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Jacquii.

butchiesmom

Wow! I read this and smiled. If only all women could break loose their wings and protect their children from all harm. I could've used a set myself more than a time or two.

I've made a few suggestions (in bold) but found there wasn't much I would do to it.

This is a great story, perhaps told in the fashion of the bards of old.

hugs,
Gail