April/May 2005



A Taste of Heaven
by
Mark Sullivan

Kneeling with eyes closed she waits. Goosebumps consuming her track-mark ridden arms. Hand in hand, she mumbles softly to herself, knowing that no one hears her words anymore. She calls upon visions of her past, only to have them quickly fade away. She would do anything to be back again, in the light.

He came into the room undetected, stopping to take in the sight that awaited him, her frail body shivering from the cold. Tattered, dirt stained wings providing the only cover for her pale, blemished skin.
Slowly he makes his way to her side, footsteps unheard still. A gentle stroke of his hand on her broken wings wakes her from her memories. Her attention now focused solely on the syringe in his other hand. It has been the only way she could find to get back, if only for brief periods.

“Are you ready for a taste of heaven?” are his words heard just before the sound of his pants unzipping.

She would do anything to be back again, in the light.


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