Spun Sugar chapter 2 (revision)

 

In the courtyard, there they are. Henry the VIII, His wife Jane, and their son Edward. The boy, innocent and distracted looked at the flowers while pulling the wings off a dragonfly.

 

The weight of the dragonfly seemed to increase once the wings were gone (despite how fragile they were). The shiny translucent things lay here and there, like some lover pulling petals from a flower.

 

The dragonfly is now crawling (having been laid on the path) trying its flightless escape. Edward loves these games. Now he is pulling off a leg or two both on the same side, so now it is kicking in circles. The rubber of his boots crushes a satisfied if cheap thrill. Foot grinding there is a thin glass-like sound. Such a happy boy.

 

A swarm of birds is swarming off in the distance maybe a thousand. they come flying (all sorts) hawks, Sparrows, and crows. They are at first black-winged silhouettes and squawks and whoops.

 

Edward sees them first and points with a finger, mouth closed not feeling a need to articulate anything beyond the direction. Some savant of his death. Some death drives forging him towards oblivion, or could it be fear?

 

Henry is laying on a blanket with his wife, wine, and cakes on the blanket. All in an instant the swarm of terror flapping hit's them. covered as feathers ripping break-in eyes. Small bites and big ones at the arteries. henry runs screaming like he is some desire (a death drive of his own?) to be done with this world. No that is not it. They are herding him towards the edge. He jumps like he now has the dragonfly's wings but no, he falls, arms flailing as he falls until he is out of sight.

 

Jane took several more minutes to die. An eagle had eaten her lips. While Edward, the child falls back. Blind and in pain till his soul had returned to the primal information.

 

Messiah is singing his song. The song of revolution. The beginning of an age. The other birds join as they circle the palace. The guards when they find Jane and Edward, Start searching for the culprit, but the navigator is waiting for the little bird to hop forwards. A song sparrow sitting on Edward's forehead.

 

"What did you do?" said the Navigator.

 

The bird hopped and chirped a song.

 

Blood red roses.

 

My clothes are all in pawn

Go down you blood red roses, go down

And it's mighty draughty around Cape Horn

Go down you blood red roses, go down

Oh, you pinks and posies

Go down you blood red roses, go down

It's round Cape Horn we've got to go

Chasing whales through ice and snow

Oh my old mother she wrote to me

My darling son come home from the sea

Oh it's one more pull and that will do

For we're the bullies to kick her through

 

The trial was short. Messiah denied nothing. It was decided that this bird would take the responsibility for the whole of the crime. So that the navigators could keep peace in the sky. So the bird's wings were nailed to a small cross and paraded through the streets. Which was later set on fire. The bird said nothing in his confession of his friend Caleb. 

 

2

 

 

Faces are shown but they are of a crowd, each a story but not the one you're waiting for. People bartering, trying to escape, and preparing for departure. Some child with his ragged countenance selling newspapers. Whores and slaves are being delivered to their fate.

 

The spun sugar is soft with clouds. Over in the distance some high contrast streaks of black bleed into the contours of the world's geometry. Rising Sun slowly awakes the world to a new day, though some of them wish to tell the bugger off for showing up late.

 

Gutters of steel, railings, and chains. The slaves are being herded aboard. Their hearts are long deprived of dreams. Their souls are starved of anything that isn't instinct. And the chains rattle along with clang and grinding noises as they march chained to the railing.

 

One weary face seems to come into focus... Caleb... But what is he doing here? well, he is being sold. Or delivered to his new owner to be more accurate.

 

He looks about, unsure not knowing anymore than the others. Weary faces staring into sympathy less eyes who know not pity. They are marched into their cells. Grit and dirt shoveled souls, sold for gold.

 

"So this is my destiny." Caleb is lost in this repetition.

 

His tired eyes ready for death