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<div style="border:1px #ccc solid; background-image:url('/images/ray.gif'); font-family:arial; width:200px; padding:5px;"><center><div style="font-size:20px;"><a href="/story/sageravens/31527">An Angels Wings (Prolouge)</a></div><table><tr><td width="50"><div style="color:#2CC362; font-size:15px; padding-top:4px; background-image:url('/images/profratebg.gif'); background-repeat:no-repeat; width:44px; height:26px; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; vertical-align:middle; padding-top:8px; padding-left:1px; " valign="top">6</div></td><td><div style="height:100px;width:100px; padding-top:9px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url(/images/storyCover.png);"><a href="/story/sageravens/31527"><div style="margin-left:9px; __padding:0px; height:90px; width:70px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url('http://www.testriffic.com/storyfiles/31527.jpg');"></div></a></div></td></tr></table></center></div>

+ 5	An Angels Wings (Chapter 2)
+ 7	An Angels Wings (Chapter 1)
+ 6	An Angels Wings (Prolouge)
+ 8	Birthday Boy

I was running through a large Roman street as fast as I could, running as I had never run before from a threat I could not name. The sky overhead was blacker than death and laughed with frequent screams of electrified energy as it rained. The marble street was lit by only one lantern in the distance and was my only want and need. As I ran, men and women appeared in front of buildings, pillars, and other roads and laughed along with the storm. Every and all coherent thought that I might have been capable of producing evaporated as their laughing gave me only a complete and absolute sense of fear and I became desperate. I spread the wings gifted to every angel and gave my first great heave from the ground.

  HA. I am an angel and am the lord of the skies. My four great wings heaved again and I was determined to escape the jovial death chant of the men and women below. I was determined to reach that lantern at the end of my journey. I was determined to defeat this darkness of the storm. I was determined to win this race against death.

  The storm spoke, not laughing but spitting hate and despair to the world. The men and women stopped their laughing and began their screaming, rising and falling against the pitch of the storm, yet producing music of unconditional burning pain. Burning pain. That is what it was. The sky was burning without light and the men and women below were screaming without relief. Only a burning pain.

  The storm spoke again, and it spoke to me. Its words touched me with burning pain and my wings caught fire. The lightning words of this great darkness spoke despair and failure to my ears; pain and erosion to my body. I screamed and fell to the ground, rolling on the ground which had turned from marble to tar, trying to put out the fire upon my back, trying to save my precious wings from a doom reserved for the damned. The tar caught fire, burning my body and burning away my white leather war garment. I stood and ran naked to my lantern, screaming from the burning pain.

  I looked over my shoulder, and all flames and tar had turned to a pool of cool clear water that I was running from. I turned forward, tears spilling from my eyes because of this pain and because I had run from this relief. I tried to turn back, but I would not, because the growing nameless fear would fulfill its duty that caused me fear. I felt my wings take on a new flame, and they were lost to the wind as cinders. I ran forward, screaming as a man and woman behind me and beside me. My wings were gone, leaving charred stumps where my gifts had once been. I was human and screamed as a human. My fellow man and woman beside me and behind me began to run as their fellow man, and they ran beside me and in front of me to my paradise.

  The storm above us gave out the great roar of war. The lightning above us began at one solid point and slowly spread and outward like a jagged spider web, cracking and splitting the sky with awesome finality. Lightning and tornados fell from the sky, igniting tar and catapulting it in all directions. My men and women followers fell by the hundreds, no by the thousands, then by the millions. I did not even wonder where they came from, I only ran, screaming to them that we were getting closer and we were almost there. My followers were set alight, taking ignited tar to the face and body, screaming hate to me for leading them to hell. Followers who ran beside me and cried with me were suddenly struck in the back with fire, and fell withering to the ground screaming the burning pain.

  We ran, the nameless fear growing in strength, size, and speed. It came behind us taking my men and women to its depths. We ran, the fire of the lightning with no light burning through my men and women like pests. We ran, and I heard hate and pain spilling from every pore of every beings body, calling for mercy or calling for help.

  We ran, and every single man and woman that ran behind me in this reigning storm died slow, terrible deaths.

  As I realized this, I also realized that the lantern seemed closer. I had to but run a few more steps and I was inside.

  Time slowed, and I heard the roar of the sky and the void of the fear, but I didn’t care. I was almost in paradise.

  Paradise in three steps.

  Paradise in two steps.

  Paradise in just one more step.

  I jumped the last step, but landed in darkness, not in light.

  I looked into the light illuminated by the lantern, the run from the fear forgotten, the roar from the storm quieted, and the screams of the dying silenced.

 

  In this light in this darkness were two angels, both garbed in white silk cloaks of the finest make and both looking away at the endless road beyond. One carried the lantern. I could tell one was male and one was female, yet only the lanternless male turned to look at me, a look of utter disgust on his face and a look of utter horror on mine.

  The angel who looked at me was me. I saw myself as I should have been, not the burned and scared human I had become. I saw his contempt and I felt my fear.

  My eyes burned into mine, the yellow of the sun and my eyes never letting my stare wander.

  “Why do you run!?” The angel demanded.

  “I run because I must, because It behind me means to do me harm.” The human answered.

  The angels’ eyes narrowed in anger and scrutiny. “From what do you run?” The angel asked.

  The humans eyes widened in fear and meekness. “It the shadow. It is the shadow of something terrible and evil.”

  The angel barred its teeth. He pointed an accusing finger to me, and let a righteous anger come from his heart and mind.

  “From where does this shadow spawn, Coward?” The angel screamed. “Any and every shadow must have a light for its existence, and I am your light. You, Coward, stood between me and the shadow. My shadow. YOUR SHADOW COWARD!”

  The human looked behind him, and indeed it was not a shadow of death, but a shadow of only fear. And the shadow came not from the angels feet, but from the humans. His fear had been at his feet the entire time.

  “YOU ARE MY ENEMY COWARD!” The angel screamed. He unsheathed the hand-and-a-half sword hanging from his back and pointed it to the human with obvious intentions. The human oddly enough felt no fear at this gesture, but stepped back out of habit. The dimming lantern however, followed him and brought the angel closer to him. The shadow behind him grew only larger. “IT IS YOUR FEAR THAT KILLED THOSE MEN AND WOMEN COWARD! IT IS YOUR FEAR THAT SET THE LAND ABLAZE COWARD! IT IS YOUR FEAR THAT CREATED THAT SHADOW COWARD!

  The lantern began to lose its illuminative properties. Its flame began to flicker and die, casting the world into an unsure realm of unending shadow.

  “IT IS YOU FEAR THAT GAVE THAT STORM ITS POWER COWARD! IT IS YOUR FEAR THAT LET YOURSELF BURN INSTEAD OF TURNING FOR WATER COWARD! IT IS YOU FEAR THAT MAKES YOU RUN COWARD!”  Angel said.

  The human looked the angel in the eye, understanding every word that was being said. There was no excuse for running. There was no reason for groveling. There was no hope in unconditional surrender.

  Human began to feel stronger in this world of shadows and lanterns. He was responsible for the death of his men and women. He was responsible for the death of the land by fire and for the damage done to the beautiful homes of this city. He was responsible for the creation of the shadow and fear struck into the hearts of the men and women.

  An anger began to build inside of him. A shameful anger of unexplainable proportions and an unbreakable will to regain his pride and honor.

  The woman angel quarter turned to him, placing her field of vision between the two beings. The lantern moved closer to him; however the male angel did not. Angel was placed on the rim of the light to where there was just enough to cover his wings without them falling out of illumination. The lantern grew in strength and power, extending its reach to the bottom of the humans feet. He felt his feet become booted again. He no longer felt the burning pain tar upon the soles of his feet. Human tried to get a look at the female angel holding the lantern between Human and Angel, but the hood of the cloak was too large.  The Human did not bother to step closer to the light of the lantern to get a closer look at the woman, as he knew in his heart that to force this light was useless.

  His attention was diverted from the woman as Angel screamed. The tips of his wings had fallen out of the light, and blew away like dust in a breeze. Human felt a slight itch on his back, and felt the charred stumps had healed to the young healthy buds of a child angel.

  Human knew he was responsible for the storm and its power. This only fueled his shameful anger and strengthened his will. He became determined to once again, whether it be as a human or angel, to take his role as one who fights shadows and never surrenders.

  The lantern in front of him gave out a flare of newly invigorated energy. The woman came closer to him, giving her light and heat to Human.

    The light came up to Humans waist now, redressing him in his white leather war greaves and mail. His burned ankles and legs healed as if they had never been touched by flame.

  Angel let out another scream. This was not a scream of pain. This was a scream of frustration. The light of the lantern had gone down to his waist. His wings were completely gone, but that was nothing in comparison to his other changes.

  His face had began to peel off and dripped blood by the quart to the ground. His skull had holes, showing brown and yellow brain. His eyes were bulging with madness and squirted an unidentified green liquid to the air. His hair was matted to his face by oozing pus coming from his forehead and ears. His throat had four huge gashes from upper-right to lower-left. His entire chest and stomach area had become porous, spilling a mixture of green ooze, pus, blood, and a large amount of worms and insect parasites to the ground in droves of thousands. His cloak had become tattering rags of diseased fluids and organisms.

  Human felt behind his back and felt not only wings, but feathers. FEATHERS! He had never been so happy to think that word of hope and happiness to himself as he was now. His wings were not completely grown yet, but all four were there and, by God, he had feathers.

  Human looked back at Angel.

  Beast returned the gaze to Half-Breed.

  “So what do you think, Coward?” Said the Beast. “You think you are angry enough to fight your shadow? Do you thing you are strong enough to not only survive the storm, but quiet it as well?”

  The lantern gave a brief flicker as the all too familiar fear gripped Half-Breed.

  “I will do what needs to be done.” Answered Half-Breed.

  The lantern grew brighter than ever.

  “I will never burn again.” Cried Half-Breed. “I could have helped many if I had saved my wings. I could have continued my mission if I had saved my wings. I would have been able to fight if I had been able to save my wings.

  “I will never lose my wings, for they are what give people hope. They are what give me my existence as a servant of peace. Fear means nothing next to the hope of an angel.”

  The lantern moved one step closer to Half-Breed. The light came up to his throat, redressing him in his white leather and mail cuirass and bracers. His wounds from the storms hate healed.

  Half-Breed let his wings stretch to their extent and nearly burst into tears with happiness. His wings were near complete. They could lift him from the ground but they still lacked the proper size and sheen. He blew a light gust of wind down to the ground, loving watching the dust upon the dried tar blow away.

  There was a resounding smashing and cracking noise as the Beast let out another scream. He leaned upon the hand-and-a-half sword that had just been gouged into the asphalt, panting and holding his legs.

  The light of the lantern had completely left him, leaving the Beast to the darkness, and his own degeneration. What was left of his cloak fell to the ground with a wet “plup”. His bare legs had become diseased, flesh falling from his body like soggy paper from a tight fisted hand. The Beasts’ skull had split and shattered, renting the face in two and giving his screaming throat a more direct way to the air.

  He leaned, bleeding against the sword screaming a scream that an animal makes when it knows all is lost. It is a war cry of pain that let’s you know that this animal will never let go. He screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. Then he stood and asked…

  “One more question Coward.” Said the Beast. “Will you run from a shadow of not only fear, but death?”

 

  Half-Breed remembered running. He remembered running from that shadow. He remembered running from that storm. He remembered running from that pain. He remembered. And he would never forget. The lantern tipped one step closer.

 

  Half-Breed looked at Beast,

  And Shadow returned the gaze to Angel.

 

  Shadow took a step back from the lantern and disappeared, giving Angel a clear view of the road ahead of this lantern. Just in front of him on this road was a Storm, was a Shadow, was a Burning Tar. The people screamed and cried and screamed for help as they burned in their burning pain. The Storm overhead showed its spider web of lightning and struck right at Angel’s feet, peppering his greaves. Shadow only had words.

  “Will you run?”

 

 I, Allon the Angel, looked into the eyes of the lantern bearer, and saw her young face and her luminescent 

  Sunfire

  eyes.

 

I grabbed my sword from the ground, and ran…

 

“Remember,” The shadow said. “I am your shadow, for you will always cast a shadow. You will always be a Coward. You will always fail. With the lantern at your back, you wish to and fight for it as you would a Lord, a King, a People! HA! That very lantern casts the shadow you fight against. You cannot win. You will never win. You will die.

 

I grabbed my sword from the ground and ran to the People. With Speed, with Grace, with Care, with Love, without Hate, without Anger, without Regret, without Fear. I went not to fight a shadow and storm, but to go for that which I knew how to help and fight for. I went with love to put out the fires of hell and to quench the thirst of the thirsty.

 

  The lantern glowed and the girl smiled.

 

  All fires were out before I could lift a finger. The storm quieted in the blink of an eye. All darkness outside of the lantern was illuminated. The sky was blue. The sun shone upon my eyes. The people of the world loved and kissed each other, helping without thought and giving without regret. I stood on the top steps of the greatest city of the world, watching the flame in the lantern give its solid and everlasting flame to the world.

  I smiled, flexing my wings and running my fingers through my short hair. These were my peoples. This was my domain. This was my world. And yet…

  From behind my back, “you will never win.”

  I grabbed the knife I kept behind my neck and threw it behind me in the direction of the voice. All I succeeded in was rolling over on my wings and throwing a knife into my solid cedar bedroom ceiling to the hilt.

  I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, not moving a muscle and keeping my wings pressed against my sides and legs. The sweat from the hilt of the knife let loose one drop of sweat which fell to my bloodshot eye.

  I remember running. I will never forget.

  I dressed in my white leather and mail war suit, grabbed my sword and provisions, and flew off to the morning sun to do the work of an Angel.

© 2008

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