Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Clouds

December 24th 2013 in Microfiction

The flight attendants loitered expertly, eavesdropping but not appearing to do so. Phil, whose little brother was born deaf, translated the sign language that the ancient twins placed into each other’s delicate, papery palms. “What do the Cloud People say this time?” “They say: do not be fooled when life is hard – when the body hurts or the heart is broken. For love is still hidden there, tucked into the fabric of the hardest day. We must be about finding it.” Sarah, at Phil’s right, drew a deep breath (she had filed for divorce last week). “They say: do not become preoccupied with loss; look at all absences as temporary and fill the gaps in the puzzle with your own light and hope.” Cora turned away to steady herself; she had been thinking of her father (lost to cancer last year). “And never despair of your worth, though your sharpest edges be worn away with the passage of time. The strength inside need never fail.” Phil paused, closing his eyes (for it was time to retire and he was afraid). “Will we meet them one day – the Cloud People? They’ve been so helpful all of these years.” “Yes! Of course! In fact … they’re planning a welcome party for us; it won’t be long now. Everyone we’ve ever loved is coming!” The twins fell asleep with their hands intertwined and their foreheads touching. The others moved about the cabin a little freer than before.


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