What is an Angel?
OKay, I wrote this on the bus on the way home from the VMEA festival. So pardon the roughness of it. Tell me what you think, please. It's inspired by the music video for a song called Amaranth by Nightwish. I'll link it here.
Walking through the sunlight, there wasn't much that she couldn't do. Beauty was all around her, and it empowered even the darkest parts of her mind, into her soul. Everything that had been in the past, that had kept her prisoner for the last few years, she was finally beginning to forget. Forgive, never, let go, impossible... But she was beginning to forget. And it allowed the happiness that had lay in wait for so long, had quietly and patiently sat in the corner as she ranted and raved, it was now allowed to come back and slowly wrap around her, mind, body, and spirit. Warmth, light, and smiles, opening a mind, a thought, an idea that had been locked away for far too long. Freedom was her goal, and they were going to do all they could to help her.
She couldn't see them, the small ideas that danced around her. Angels, fallen from the sky, they had once been like her, prisoners of the world, not knowing how to adjust to their new anchors, these physical manifestations that entrapped a spirit. Some had found themselves again only in death, if it was burning in agony, feeling their flesh disappear and the spirit would thrash it's way to freedom, or being buried and letting go gently, with a sigh, floating gently back into the air. Others still had found ways to adjust to their bodies, learning about the world around them with new limitations, and finding every day a new challenge that excited them and infuriated them. They learned to live, and could therefore let go.
And those angels, that had been set free, those were who were dancing by her sides, weaving in and out of the soft sunbeams, laughing as she laughed, and sighing as she sighed. They were trying to call her back to their numbers. Memory had been a barrier with her, as it had not with others. She could not remember her life as an angel, and that's why they needed to bring her back, that is why they prodded so fervently at her mind, small coos of need and desire, to hold, to love.
She couldn't see them, the small ideas that danced around her. But she could feel their presence, and had so named them angels, creating a story around them, calling them her own, and hoping they had come to take her from this place, even if the soothing sunlight was finally able to reach her skin once more. There would always be that lingering terror, and she wanted nothing more than to leave.
Temptation dawned upon her as she walked further into the sunlit meadow. If the angels wanted her, if they were reaching out to her, should she not just walk forward, close her eyes, hold out her hands, and tell them so? What was keeping her from her beautiful world of peace and serenity, of that place that she knew existed, and missed the most out of everything she had ever experienced in her life, though she could not remember ever having been there? Was it the very nature of the angels themselves, because she could not see them? It hurt her heart to think they were not appearing fully to her, their kin. If they were her brothers and sisters, they should reveal to her their love for her, their own beauty.
Silently she beckoned to them with her mind, falling to her knees in the slicing rays of yellow light, tipping her head back to look at the all too blue sky. It hurt her eyes to look into the vibrant colors, after so many years, but the scintillating beauty of the world belonged to her now, and determination flooded her, to see all she could before ascending to a cloud, where all would be white and cream and peach.
The emerald leaves, breaking the monotony of a pure blue sky, and the flaring heavenly star that was the sun assaulted her eyes. It was impossible to look at anything anymore, too long had she been a prisoner of the monochromatic worlds, of blackness. And still, the angels pulled, tantalizingly out of reach even after her call. Hiding her face in her hands, shielding her eyes from the harsh light, prayers meant for them slipped from her lips, pleading for them to bring her with them. She could not survive her, she did not want them to leave her behind when they had to return to their home. But prayers seemed to push them farther away, their coos of love turning soft, hazy in her mind.
Terror was not icy as she expected, but hot and burning, spurring her forward. It was as if the cold had froze her, and then something had dropped her into a bucket of scalding water. The feeling was enough to lift her from the ground, and she stumbled forward in desperate love, searching. Her angels, her angels, that's where her hope lay. Blue skies would turn to pale white, and nothing could reach her. Not the fear, not the dark, not the blackness that she had lived in for so long.
It was laughable, how this girl with fire on her head, and water in her eyes stumbled after them. It had begun as a game, a game, a game of repetition. They brought her to nothing, reduced her to a quivering body, a shell that held tears and the weak and broken spirit only. Time and time again, again, they would bring her light, water, and food, a caring hand would stroke her bloody hair, and stoke the fire of hope within her breast. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow they would promise. These phantoms, these mirages that no one could ever fully see nor describe. And it was all she had, that hope, and would take it, eat it. It was sustenance more than food, luminescence more than light, quenched her thirst more than water. The promise of tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow was more than enough to keep her alive.
Repeat, repeat, repeat, they would break her once more, lashing out. It would start the same, she would fight back, she had hope. The demons would start to scream, and her hands would clap over her ears, to keep them from breaking. And then was when they could start the breaking of her hope, biting, scratching, whipping at will, her physical body falling long before the final blow would knock her spirits down to hide in a corner. With the light. And the hope.
It was delightful fun, now, to see her chasing after them, asking for their help. She believed them angels, the way her eyes were lying to her. Fire, fire, fire on her head, impulsive, never thinking before jumping. Water, water, water in her eyes, trying to tame the fire, but her soul was calm, never weary. It hid away now, knowing the truth.
The love she felt, the desire, that was their love of mischief, their desire for her body. In her mind, the entity, the girl so hoped it was pure. Purity was non-existant in her life. They cackled and hooted as her bare feet tumbled over the ground, carrying her through the summer grass. Heckling, cat calling, whistling. Only once did she ever repel them, with her prayers to the angels. Powerful things, prayers, keeping the demons away. But not for long. Soon enough, her desire for the unknown, for the safe things, overpowered her sense of angels, and they surrounded her again.
~My dear, my dear, we shall fly you to the other worlds and back, and you shall know peace, mercy, and safety.~
Tricks and illusions, all of it, but she could not help but fall in her happiness, and allow their grasping hands to take hold of her body, her open and waiting her hands, and take possession of her once more. She wanted the angels, needed her angels...
Laughing at their good fortune of having her as a captive, a toy, a plaything once more, the demons put an illusion to her eyes, and brought her into the darkness.
~Now, the first order of business... Cut this Angel's Wings. I forgot they grew back so quickly.~
Of course, she would never know.