Black Wings Near Me Novels & Stories

Just fog creeping between the trees and the faint smell of char in the air. He walked the last hundred yards in silence, boots pressing into frostbitten dirt. His coat flared behind him in the wind. No backup. No sirens. Just the steady red light blinking on the body cam stitched into his jacket’s inner pocket. When he crested the ridge, he stopped cold. The Bramley Lot was gone. Where there should’ve been an old farmhouse, there was only a skeleton of blackened wood and collapsed stone. The roof had caved in completely. One side of the chimney still stood—cracked and scorched, like a tombstone.

It’s wings. A sick chill wracks my body and I crouch, ready to leap and run from the hunters and worse. But no. Between two iridescent, rainbow-casting wings is a pale, dung-colored dragon. I narrow my eyes and he plops down next to me, sending a whirlwind of sand into my face. He looks small here, the great beast seeming like nothing compared to the expanse of sand.

“It’s a umbrella for you. Butterfly wings are big enough to keep out the rain.” Jenny took the piece of paper in her hands. The paper made a “rustling” sound as it moved between her fingers. The crayon colors left marks on her fingerprints—pink, blue, brown, green—standing out sharply against her pale skin. She looked down at the butterfly. Its wings were pink, with asymmetrical patterns: three dots on the left wing and two on the right. The butterfly’s body was brown, and its antennae were blue, bending to form two question-mark-shaped arcs on the paper.

Chosen one…. The voice said again, and this time, it was closer. “Hello?” I called out in a shaky voice, enveloping myself in a hug. “Is someone there?” I yelled, and my voice echoed back. Black Ravens in multitudes erupt, flapping their wings into the sky. The dark sky is covered by them in large numbers, and a loud noise of flapping and screeching. I duck my head in reflex, trying to preserve myself from harm and thinking of the best way out.

~ Emmy ~ From out of the shadows, the winged beast emerged, its massive black wings unfurling and casting an ominous shadow over the already bleak landscape. Fear gripped me and Rae, our shared anxiety intensifying as the creature drew closer. This time, we could see it more clearly, and the sight was enough to make my blood run cold.

Something had happened. “What is it?” I asked as I reached him. “We lost contact with the northern patrol last night,” he said. “They were supposed to check in before dawn. No word since.” I swallowed hard. “That’s not normal.” “No,” he agreed. “And that’s not all. Another village, farther east, sent a raven just before dawn. The message said they saw shadows moving through the trees. Too big to be animals.” My stomach dropped. The creatures with wings—the shadow beasts. They were moving closer. Bolder.

Blake carried them into a far corner, hiding, so that they would not be seen from overhead. The three of them squatted there, waiting, watching the sky. Scarlet heard a great humming and buzzing noise, then a great commotion, like a flapping of wings. She looked up and saw hundreds, then thousands, of black wings covering the sky. It looked like an enormous flock of birds. When she was younger, she had once watched a never-ending flock cover the sky, migrating from one end of the earth to the other. She remembered watching for hours, as the world seemed to turn black. She had thought it would never end. This reminded her of that. They crouched there silently, waiting. Scarlet held her breath

I know what I must do, what we all must do. To my left, Akin stands tall, his obsidian wings sharp and sleek, the wind tugging at his tunic as his eyes sweep the battlefield like a soldier gauging his next strike. To my right, River’s wings are the color of deep, angry storms. They shift with energy, crackling faintly as his fists curl at his sides. The fire in him burns steady now, no longer a threat but a force I can trust.

The small insect darted through the trees, its wings glowing faintly in the dark silent night. Though small, it moved as though drawn by a force beyond this world. It passed over forests and fields until it reached the quiet little town nestled between two hills, on the outskirts of the city, at Morgan’s home.

A pair of binoculars rested on his lap. Catching sight of her, he pressed a finger to his lips, and gestured for her to join him. "Look," he whispered, pointing to a pair of fairly large birds. Pretty, with bluish-gray heads, pearly-pink breasts and brown wings mottled with black, they pecked at the ground some distance away. "Do you know what they are?" "Pigeons?" she ventured.