• She was a creature of the air trapped in ironworks, forever bound to the earth.
    He was a man of fire, ever envious of her wings, selfish and greedy.
    The Boy smelt of saltwater and had oceanic eyes, forever yearning for the girl’s voice, the girl’s touch, and the girl’s freedom.

    The Girl sat on her swing, surrounded by the surreal twists and turns of the Cage that held Her. She amused her self by tracing Her long fingers along the metal that seemed to tell the story of Her fate. If the earth was quiet and the wind kept still She could swear that She heard the metal weep.
    Her white wings shuddered at the thought.

    The Man watched her, red faced and envious. If He was unable to fly, why should She be able to? If He was able to behold Her beauty shouldn’t the residents be able to?
    . . .
    For a price, of course.

    The Boy watched from afar. Grandmothers and cheek-pinchers said He was born from the Sea. He watched the Angel’s melancholy form. Her white dress was that familiar to the goddesses he read about; Her wings even more so.
    He wished to steal her away from the demon like Man that kept Her in the Cage. The Boy wanted to see her wings spread; the white feathers would contrast beautifully with the blue of the sky.

    But The Trapped Bird knew better. Her Cage knew it all. She was a sideshow attraction for the passerby, a moneymaker for the fire-eyed Man. Never to be free, never to be a true creature of air. Her wings, although not injured, were clipped.

    The Boy greeted her in the dead of night, Her Capturer sleeping noisily. The moon glinted off the Cage knowingly. He spoke to The Caged Bird; expressed His love, told Her of the outside world, past the twirling iron and informed Her of His plan.

    She could only look sadly to the Boy. Her pathetic destiny was forever told in the morbid voice of Her Cage. She spoke lightly to the Boy. She uttered tales. She praised Him for His scent. His freedom. He blushed. He understood.

    She, the creature of air, plucked one of Her feathers. Tainted Purity.
    The Man of Fire, envy and greed, slept, unaware of His Merchandise’s drop in value.
    The Boy who smelt of saltwater took the feather, cradling it carefully in his calloused hands.

    She could at least let a part of Herself be free.
    And the Cage wept.