Concerning Flight

On nights like this, I have the same dream. A dream of soaring into the darkened sky through slate coloured clouds, strong, iron-coloured wings, my wings, lifting me upwards and then bearing me down towards the hard ground where the barest breath of heat from the day stirs the air around me and upwards I fly again.

I am unafraid. I have flown like this every night when the moon is alight with the kiss of the sun's rays and I enjoy my wings, I love the cool air that enfolds my skyclad form and gently governs my flight. I only fly this way in dreams, in waking life I have no feather-clad wings to bear me into the sky; just a hard besom snugly between my legs, obeying the touch of my hand because I am its mistress. The wings are my mistress, they bear me where they wish and I am content to go.

Tonight is different. The wings bear me...but I bear another, a light burden on my back, long fingers clinging to feather and to my cool skin, not through fear, but through interest. My face burns in the moonlight as my passenger and I flit through the night, guided only by my wings and the gentle currents of air around us. I am unabashed at my nakedness, for why should a woman be afraid of another woman? Instead, I am ashamed of my form and the spell of the wings starts to fail.

The wings sense my shame of them and they falter where they had been so sure before. I try to cover myself, try to hide the long talons of my hands, try to hide the scales and feathers of my feet. I do not want her to see me as a monster. She slips from my back as I try to hide myself and my wings do not save me as I start to fall. My keen eyes keep her in sight as we both dive through the air, nothing to support us, and I try to fly to her, I try to catch her in my talons, for I am a snatcher, an ancient thief of food and belongings, but my talons do not save, they scratch. As I try to pull her close, they bite into her skin and cause her to scream, and I scream also, I scream in pain and fear, but it echoes all around us as the call of the Harpy and I know I have lost her. I let her fall from my grasp...

I awoke in a bath of cold sweat, our white sheets stuck to my body, the pillow stuck to my face from my tears. I wheezed shallowly, the panic and feeling of loss still inside me.

"Shh," She whispered and pressed her comforting weight against me, her parchment-like skin touching mine, just like the dream. "It was just a nightmare, Rolanda. There are no Harpies or monsters here."

Minerva settled back beside me, her sleepy arm rested on my waist, her pointed chin touched my shoulder. I turned away from her and pulled the sheets up to cover my body. I am the Harpy. I am the monster. And I am always here.