Final Flight of the Phoenix

[PhoenixStorm]

This story is based on characters and situations owned by JK Rowling and publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended or to be infered

 

Final Flight of the Phoenix

 

There is a legendary bird of fire that blazes and lights the sky with its message. A bird whose wings envelop your heart. A bird whose song resounds in your soul. Rain will lash and tear at this bird’s wings, cold will try to freeze it in its place, and death will try to claim it as His own. This bird fears none.

 

To scorn this bird is to scorn life, yet there are those who do just that. The fire in which it burns has burnt so low that it has forever died within their hearts. Hope and light and life have long since deserted these that are barely human anymore. The gift of the phoenix has been long since discarded, yet this bird will no more begrudge them its warmth than it would those who welcome it with open arms.

 

Far away, a phoenix unfolds his solitary wings, though perhaps he can no longer be termed such a bird. The fire that is himself is burning low, and he knows that soon he will wink out of life for good. He does not fear death; fear is foreign to his nature. His life has been surrounded by trust, deceit, lies, truth, hate…and love. Love he has known. Yet none of these concern him; what does hope do with such unrelated emotions? He has walked hand in hand with one and all in his life. There is only one emotion now left to the phoenix as his hope and very being grows thin.

 

Despair.

 

Death to end all death. The phoenix’s polar opposite. Settling to perch on a lonesome tree, the wind wrapping around his now frail and burnt out body, the phoenix feels the despair settle deep within his heart. There is no escape now. Hope is never supposed to be able to die, but with despair it has its eternal struggle for dominance. Like opposite poles of a magnet they naturally repel each other, never able to touch and exist at the same time in the same place. Yet can either truly exist without the other?

 

A sigh of breath, a whispered note of song – whether of hope or despair it cannot be discerned, perhaps it is both – and the phoenix is no more.

 

***

 

Words: 377

[StepUpTimneh]

That was so sad, and so beautiful :) Nice work!

[PhoenixStorm]

thanks step :) (you're kidding me, of all the smilies on here, there's no regular :) smilie?!). It's my tribute to Fawkes, his departure being rather overshadowed by Dumbledore's.

[timeturner]

Good job phoenix!