Today’s writing prompt at The Daily Post is the word, fortune.
It was a lot to take in.
Mavra Ph’tera* struggled to make sense of it all. Below, the Chicago River flowed the way it always had, as if nothing had happened. He thought about jumping; just to see if they really worked, but the time wasn’t right. He wasn’t ready to take that chance.
If they did work, these crazy wings he’d sprouted would spread and glide him to safety.
Mavra liked them at first; shiny, sleek and black. When the sun hit them just right, it set off a kaleidoscope of color–kind of like when your dad’s car leaks oil in the driveway and a rainbow swirls in the puddle.
And talk about a pair of chick magnets? Saints preserve us! Last night at Bernie’s Bodacious Booty Bungalow, the girls couldn’t keep their claws off him. He’d collected more phone numbers than the Yellow Pages.
But then they started to itch. The gypsy lady at the flea market said that it was normal, and not to worry about it. When you get new wings like these, they have to get used to you, she explained. Until they settle-in and get comfortable, well, you’re just going to have to deal with it.
She gave him some special powder to use in the meantime, which seemed to help. The only drawback was that it attracted wild animals. Mavra, himself, could discern no odor, but to the animals it was an aphrodisiac. Eventually, they lost interest and wandered back to their own kind—all but the lion.
What about Sebastian?
He’d named the lion after the chubby ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ on Family Affair. As a kid it was his favorite show. He’d had a crush on Cissy, the eldest niece, but decided that it would make a stupid name for a lion.
In any case, the landlord will be none too pleased, he feared. Not only that, but imagine the kitty litter such a creature would need! Who can afford it?
There was another problem perplexing Mavra; one that he couldn’t put off for long.
How to get this jacket off!
*Black Wings (Greek)