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My dad tells me Yahweh has big plans for me. That I’m a miracle birth. On the way to the hospital my parents got in a car crash. Ironic, I know. My dad broke his leg, which healed in time. But my mom? Well, the car hit the back door behind my dad, where my mom was laying down without a seat belt. She didn’t make it. She was dead long before they got me out. I should’ve been, too. But I wasn’t. Somehow I lived. Born with a few teeth; hazel eyes where my mother’s eyes were green, my father’s light brown; and golden hair. A mix of silver, blonde, and light brown streaks were present from birth. I was already an anomaly, then they held me, and the biggest shock of all came to the doctor, nurses, and my dad: I had wings. My father never got his questions answered. I think I did.

Since I can remember, I’ve had a dream. This weird dream that I’m falling and falling. It feels endless. Then suddenly I’m underwater. I get to the top and this voice from within me tells me to swim. I swim and just as I remember I have wings, I wake up. It happens two or three times a week. It doesn’t affect my sleep, so I’ve kinda stopped wondering what it meant. I learned how to fly. My dad moved us from sweaty Florida where I was born all the way up to Pennsylvania. We live in the back of the back woods. Our closest neighbors are six miles away; plenty of space for me. My dad brought the air space, too. And got these huge trees planted. I could practice flying and doing tricks. I’m really good now, too. My dad is filthy rich. Not only is he a doctor, but he has a lot of money from his and my mother’s families. But I’m not spoiled or anything. Not spoiled rotten, at least. I get what I want, but I gotta work for it usually; mostly housework on the roof. I hate sweating and looking bad, though my forbidden is a little different than usual. I love black and god, but hate white. My room is black with gold designs. Daddy and I did it together. My dad and I are extremely close. Since it’s just the two of us he raised me all alone. He got me lessens and a violin that would last me from the time I was three until I was fourteen. He stood by me and supported me. Even though I’m the exact opposite of what he thinks I should be: I’m goth and he wants me conservative; he doesn’t berate me. I love my dad. Even if he’s heavily into Judaism, and I… don’t know what I am.



I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was little I couldn’t fully believe, fully trust, in Yahweh (God in Hebrew). I knew all the feasts and prayers. Do’s and don’ts. But… I can’t bring myself to be Jewish. Or any religion for that matter. Daddy says it’s to do with Mom’s death. But if that’s so, I should love Yahweh with all my heart. I should by every account not be here. Especially not like I am. I was a crisp 8lb, and 14in. perfectly happy in every way baby. My dad documented my growth, and especially my wings’ growth. I remember a lot about my childhood. Because of my abnormality, my dad kept me isolated, until I got depressed. I fell into this state of hatred. Hatred of everyone and everything around me. Two people got to me where my dad couldn’t: Noah and Moses Giovanni. Twins. One has black, long wavy hair, and the other has sandy, naturally long hair that was kept short. I met them when I was nine. They wondered onto our property as I was flying around. One of the few joys in life I had were flying. They caught me, and promptly tried to shoot me down with rocks.

“Look, Noah, it’s a Wendy bird!”

“That’s no Wendy bird, it’s an UGLY bird!”

I swooped down, grabbed them up, and flapped as hard as my wings would let me. I could barely lift them, but I managed to fly them over to a pond, thinking water would scare them like it had scared me my whole life. But it seemed to have given life and strengthened them. I flew up to a tree and cried. Noah took notice, and called me down. I turned me down.

“We’re sorry! We thought you could dodge! We didn’t mean to scare or hurt you!”

I turned, scared. “Please don’t tell,” I sniffled.

“Tell what?” Moses’ voice was deeper than Noah’s, more commanding, but not bossy. He seemed confidant. With those two words he could’ve led an army. Led any group of people; I instantly felt safe.

“About my wings,”

“We won’t. We promise, right?” he tapped Noah on the arm.

“We promise. On one condition,”

“What is it?”

“You have to be our friend.”

“Forever,” Noah added.

“No matter what.” They both spoke together.

I smiled, “I’ve never had friends before,” I flew down, and stopped halfway uncertainly.

“It’s easy! You just have to be nice, and loyal, and help each other. Okay?” Noah’s gliding voice could sooth a rabid beast.

I flew the rest of the way down and pushed Moses into the pond. Noah laughed so hard he fell on his butt.

“What was that for?”

“For calling me a Wendy bird!”

I turned and did the same to Noah, who’d just stood up.

“And that’s for calling me an ugly bird.”

They looked at each other and shrugged. Then, together, they pulled me in. Even though the pond was two feet deep, I was three feet tall, and deathly afraid of the water. the boys quickly took notice of this and pulled me out.

“We’re sorry! We didn’t know!” they looked extremely apologetic as they tried to help get me dry. I used my wings to lift myself in the air and dry most of the way off. I flapped a couple of times and dried my wings off as well.

We’ve been friends ever since.



The incessant, harsh beeping sound of my alarm clock woke me up. I looked up from my black pillow and met a mass of ivory feathers. I lifted my wing and turned my alarm clock off. I flopped back down, my messy, knotted curls everywhere. It was a cruel and unusual punishment that I had to get up at 5:30 in the morning to get to school on time. I showered, getting my feathers wet so they’d glisten. In my run I turned up the heavy metal. Still naked, I had my favorite black and gold custom-made converse, my goth-lolita black and pink skirt, and pink knee-hi socks and my gold-black-and pink tank top. I always got tank tops big so it could compensate for the wings. All my shirts were slit by Daddy for them.

I saw a shadow on my third-story window. Moses’ long, black-haired shadow appeared at my window. I closed my wings over myself and Moses’ head popped up.

“Hey, sexy,”

“You timed your arrival!”

“Of course,” he kissed me.

“Get out,”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

I gave him ‘the look’. “Where’s your brother?”

“In the car,” he grabbed me and petted my wings; he knew I loved it. I leaned against him.

“When are we going to tell him? When are we going to tell Daddy, or anyone?”

“I don’t think we should, mon che’re.”

“Why not,” I stepped out of his arms, “are you ashamed of me?” he was prestigious, the future valedictorian.

“No! No, of course not! Don’t think that! But Noah might get mad we didn’t tell him. If everyone else knows, he’s bound to find out.” Moses could be very persuasive.

I sighed, “I don’t like this, Moses.”

“I know, love. I know,” he pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead

“Lemme get dressed,”

“Open your wings,”

“I’m naked under here,”

“I know,” he winked.

“Leave!”

He looked hurt, genuinely hurt. I knew it was an act. “Fine,” his face fell, and broke my oversized heart, even though I knew it was a fake. “I’ll just… go.” He jumped out my window. A straight drop down. Except for the balcony to the music room on the second floor. He was perfectly fine. I closed my window and locked it. I changed the tank top for my assassin’s creed shirt and my black and pink jacket. I always wore a jacket. All my friends thought I cut myself, but it was to hide my wings. I pinned up my curls so they were out of my face, but they didn’t stay, so I just combed them out instead. I grabbed my bag, looked at the clock—6:12—and ran out the door. “Love you, Daddy!” I yelled. I knew he was sleep, and wouldn’t even comprehend that I’d called out to him, but I didn’t care. I grabbed some marshmallows and a Monster. I met Moses down by the car and hopped in the front of the red Nissan Altima.

I was ready for the first day of Sophomore year.























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IDK HOW MANY PEOPLE LIKE THIS SINCE I HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY COMMENTS, BUT PEOPLE HAVE READ IT, AT LEAST A FEW, SO I GUESS I'LL KEEP POSTING.

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Melody hung off of Yahweh’s long, white beard. She liked to climb all over him; absolutely oved to be near Him in any way.

“I have a question, Yahweh!”

He chuckled slightly. Somewhere on Earth thunder rumbled. She wondered in the sound startled anyone. “Of course you do,, Melody.”

“When will I be born? I wanna go down there! See what it’s like!”

“Wait,” That was always one of his answers. Yes, no, wait.

“Is that a yes?” her face lit up with excitement.

“That, my love, is a wait.” She tried to pout, but couldn’t feel anything but complete joy here, around Him.

“Yahweh?”

“My love,”

“When- if- I’m born… will you still love me?”

“Yes, my love,” He smiled, a smile of pure happiness.

“Will I still love you?”

“Wait,”

“For what?”

“For the answer, my love. Go play,”

“Will you play with me?”

His smile grew, “Yes,”

“YAY!” She jumped on him and they played. While playing with Melody and all of the other angels, Yahweh also watched, and helped along, the events of six centuries go by.



Melody ran up to Yahweh and held on tightly “He’s base! He’s base! I’M SAFE!” They laughed and flew up. Still holding onto his white hair, Melody gently glided away from Noah and Moses. Melody pushed off his larger-than-life shoulder and flew her fastest.

Melody would miss flying the most if she was born. She loved the feel: she felt free. She was never afraid. One couldn’t get hurt playing in Heaven. Melody few down the gold-paved streets. Leaving Noah and Moses far behind, she flew straight up. She knew if you went too far down, you’d go into the sky, and then Earth. But she didn’t think you could go too far up. She liked to see how far she could get before Yahweh called her down. She got farther than she ever had before.

“Melody,” Yahweh's voice reverberated through her.

“Catch me!!!” she folded her wings around her and enjoyed the falling feeling. She knew no matter where she fell, or how hard, or from however high up, Yahweh would catch her. She fell and fell… and fell some more. She had not flown quite this high, she was sure; so why had Yahweh not caught her? He always caught her. At this rate, she’d fall the Earth!

And then she saw it: the first cloud. She tried to open her wings, but the air pressure prevented it. She was screaming in her mind, crying. Her tears falling up, her curly, blonde hair flying past her face. Finally, finally, she dropped into the ocean. Cold, wet, and terrified, she dropped into the ocean. Cold, wet, and terrified, she didn’t know what to do. She could see land, a short distance from where she’d dropped. She was alone. SWIM. Yahweh. Even here on Earth, she’d know his voice. She He’d not abandoned her. “Why have you done this!?” She called up to Heaven in despair. She cried when she heard the answer. WAIT. “Is this punishment for asking to be born?” NO. A ray of hope? “Am I here for a purpose?” YES. That’s that then. She didn’t quite know how to swim. She knew the movements, but only because she’d done it in the air. The water hadn’t moved her then; there was none; her wings had. Her wings! It was a windy night; she could use the wind to carry her along… she hoped. She opened her wings up and felt her first experience of pain: she’d opened her wings all the way, and the wind had caught them, dragging her painfully through the icy waters. Yahweh, help! Nothing; no response, and the winds were still relentlessly pulling her closer to the shore. She was farther than she’d originally thought. She now saw that there were rocks that she could run into. The wind picked her up and over the rocks. She scraped her shins on the tops as the wind swept upward. She had a fleeting thought of following it to Yahweh, but knew you could only get there from Earth from dying. She flew down on the sand. HIDE. She immediately looked around and hid between some larger rocks. Part of her wing stuck out, but she was too afraid to notice. Three teenage boys walked by passing back and forth and oblong brown object with a white patch on the middle.

“Yahweh, why have you forsaken me?”

WAIT.

She cried for what felt like days. Alone and lost in the world, she cried herself to sleep. For the first time in her existence she cried. For the first time in her existence she slept. For the first time in her existence, she doubted Yahweh.

"I was interrupted by the window breaking. Noah covered me, and a long shard went into his back toward the left side. he screamed out in sheer agony.

I knew it was meant for me."



Melissa was born with wings, and from a dead mother.

When one day she is thrown into an eternal struggle between Heaven and Hell, she must make a choice that decides the fate of everyone she loves.

Will she make the right choice?

What is the right choice?











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I'm still working on the story, so some chapters may take a while to upload

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