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by Dakota Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Action/Adventure · #1052714
Sari Pyris has a choice to make, live as a misfit or find out who and what she truly is.
One

Sari Pyris gently kneeled on the floor of the janitor’s closet, inhaling the thick stink of old soap and dirty mop. The walls round her, a soft urine color complemented only by the streaks of black mold, seemed to bow in, waiting in suspense for some breathtaking event to occur. Mrs. Pyris’ eyes, however, were not suspiciously exploring the closet around her, but locked harshly upon her reflection in a cracked mirror that had been imprisoned in the smelly room many months before. Impatiently wringing her hands, the young woman jadedly watched as her form began to warp.

         Her face was the first to change; soft lines became sharp and set, like coal becoming diamond. Her slanted eyes became as round as marbles, and her skin, once mottled with freckles, was as smooth and white as new Chinese silk. Her hair transformed also, losing all its bouncy curl and slipping about her shoulders, long and unnaturally straight. At this point the walls seemed to relax and teeter backwards and seemed as if the young woman’s fantastic transformation was complete; the most drastic changes had yet to transpire.

         Sari had managed to steal a few deep breaths before her stomach started to twist and turn into astounding knots, and her shoulders began to quake. Hurriedly, she shrugged off her denim jacket, knowing what was soon to come, and crouched over, pressing her face into the harsh, navy material.

         It had looked as if two mammoth steel knives had plunged upwards, out from between her shoulder blades and, to Sari, had felt that way too. A soft, muffled cry tore from her lips as the silver blades bloomed and feathered. Within seconds the pain had vanished and Sari lifted her face to appraise her sterling wings.

         Crimson blood tainted the tips of her wings and speckled her ripped shirt, clustering about the two large holes in the fabric they had birthed. Scarred skin lay beneath the cotton, the wounds on her back having already healed.

[Work in Progress]
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