Monday, February 11, 2008
Jedith took off the thin band of silver that held her hair from her face and rubbed at the tarnish. It never used to blacken so much that the filigree became hard to distinguish. When she was young – young being a relative term for an angel – it gleamed against her dark hair. His dark hair, rather, for like all angels Jedith was created male. Now, with her sixth millennium a distant celebration, the crown was as tainted as her brother Lucifer’s. She leaned over to scrub it in the Swedish lake, allowing the acidic water to clean away the grime.