Black Pinnacles on the Rooftop

She jumped, but not for very long tho'. The Monsters were all around her, all around, but so were the angels... jumping, bouncing and playing.

She jumped once again.

Weeeee .. eeee .. eee !

This was starting to get fun. One of the pinker entities dropped a silken thread and she grasped it, kicking one of the Monsters in the face as she did so.

He, or she, it doesn't really matter which, looked up, astonished.

She fought back!
She never usually does that.

One of the angels told her not to get distracted. He told her harshly to keep her focus on the golden threads.

'The golden threads', he said, and then you'll just swing between the Monsters, or Dance, whichever your choice.

She danced. She danced and danced and danced, licking the Antelopes as she went; crying, yes, releasing all that needed to be released, for she was a woman and she had a woman's past.

Pink. The colour of nurture, of caring, of taking the time to love. The need now, was to see more of it, allow more of it, let it move forward as a great force.

She travelled with easy gait. Laughing, swinging, crying, touching others faces.