Violet was born after a spring storm. She emerged from between the rainbow’s green and blue arcs. I am a centenarian angel, called to witness her birth. I’d been handmaiden to Death through all my years, grief skewing my existence. I was granted this new assignment, my aging wish. To assist non-humans within a species immersed in flights of fancy and joy.
I nudged Violet’s tiny fairy wings, guiding her through the sun’s rays toward the Land of Beneficence. Here she would learn to interact with the young offspring of humans when she journeyed to their earth. To spark their imaginations before ideas of difference and negativity took root. The hope of humankind lies within Violet and all her pixie kin, born every time a rainbow appears. My task, your very livelihood, is within the rainbow. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today we are to include the line “Everything I do is stitched with its color” in a piece of flash fiction, composed of 144 words, sans title. The required line is from a poem written by William Stanley Merwin, 17th Poet Laureate of the United States.
Image from Pixabay.com