Fallen Angel [Short story]

Red. Orange. Yellow. Blue.

She chants the colors of the sky lowly, only audible to her ears. It’s been a week since she was dropped on the dirty alley, barely aware of her conjured state and purpose. She walked out of the dark, gloomy place, unable to decipher the world she was in. There were small orbs of light flickering on the posts; something fascinating yet bizarre to her sight. Hesitation filled her conscience as her leather-covered feet began to move on its own. A small yelp elicited from her mouth as she walked towards a couple; surprised as well on her sudden appearance. Wary stares emitted from their eyes, as if scared and at the same time doubting whether to help her or not. And at that moment she realized, the real danger of this world lies beneath the people themselves.

For days she has lived with a pretty feline in a small abandoned, two-storey apartment. Rusty chairs and faded antique tables were her friends, constantly helping her carve little arrows using her sharp knives and skilled hands. Sometimes she can’t help but wonder of her assignment in this world when she herself could not define the purpose of her existence. Of course she would not dare ask this questions; for it was known well that creatures like her were made to follow—and not to question. And once she does, the fiery pits of hell would surely condemn her for the rest of her immortal life.

Perhaps two more days.

A little bit of patience, a little bit of self-esteem; and she’ll be back in her world, seemingly happy like she had always been. Lately, as she threw more arrows into the air and watched them reach their target, the void continues to grow; earning her more questions. Master has once said that filling oneself with too much thoughts, queries and wonder, could lead to restlessness—a yearning for more truth; and more exposure to pain. Something that is not healthy for creatures like her.

The more she tried to cover herself from the growing curiosity, and an insane need to fill her void, the more she felt prone to a horrible thing called feelings. Based from her observations, humans are capable of saying anything they wanted to, or do anything as they please; but there are times when she can’t help but wonder why there were times when they were held back—especially in expressing their feelings. They are able to discover, create, or even kill if they wanted to—but sometimes they are too afraid of risking some things that should be done. And that’s when she comes in.

Fifty arrows were all she had. One more arrow left, and a few hours from completion, she decided to take a stroll through the city again, constantly peering behind walls and posts. From time to time she was greeted by wary stares of other people, probably bothered by the feathers flocking behind her back. But she was not in the mood to care. Nothing mattered anymore as she began to memorize this strange place that would only serve as a memory that she’d like to go back to when she felt lonely.

A black door, situated a few steps away, enticed her attention; as colored glowing lights spilled boisterously behind the enchanted door, unfamiliar beats boomed into her ears—as if chanting her to take a peek and probably enter another enchanted world created by the humans.

Her expectations did not let her down. It was all that it promised. Bright lights, ear-deafening music—all guaranteed her to an event she will never forget. And though a part of her screamed not to continue, the music was too inviting for her to reject the invitation. A few moments later, she found body swaying to the melody of unfamiliar tunes—allowing everything to escape; her inhibitions, queries, and thoughts. And when she got tired, friendly colored liquors greeted her on the counter; but a sip of it did not regain her energy and instead made her feathers slowly decay. She did not stop indulging into the addictive body movements for hours; unknown to her awareness that the time for departure was long gone.

The music slowly faded out; and her mouth could only whimper as she felt a tinge of pain. She could no longer react nor even notice the pain, as she saw the arrow plunging on her left waist. Her eyes came to a torrid close, followed by faint sounds of siren.

He closes the car door with a slam, fighting off the urge to pull a cigarette stick during his duty. It was past three in the morning when his portable radio rung; immediately putting his uniform on, scampering away towards the door, barely awake. He was annoyed by sudden calls like this, but as dutiful as he was—he would never let down his oath for taking responsibility for this town. If it wasn’t for his dad’s death wish, he wouldn’t be stuck in this routine. It’s not like he despised his father’s dreams—his love for his dad was just too great that he chose to sacrifice his dreams just for him.

A messy apartment; cans of beer and liquor everywhere, even rolls of tissues and unwanted wrappers—kids these days. They’re getting more and more reckless. Not that he was excluding himself from them—he was somewhere near their ages as well. With a more developed and mature mind though. That’s all he could brag about when it comes to responsibilities. But oftentimes, he would like to be free from this so called cage of responsibility, and live life as full as he wanted to; just like how his mother did.

Sudden panic surged through him as he followed the trail of blood from the stairs towards the bedroom. On the white flowery bed sheets there laid a wounded brunette woman; with patches of blood dripping from her side. His eyes slightly rounded as he saw the arrow plunged deeply into her waist; and as he took steps near her to check for her pulse, the arrow dispersed into powder; immediately stopping the continuous bleeding of the woman. Her rowdy hair covered her pale face—and as he attempted to set aside her hair away from her face to check for more wounds, a strange feeling crept in him. But he knew well that he was just drawn by her immense beauty, and should not be a basis for such child-like beliefs of romanticism and fantasy.

The warm fingers grazing through her cheeks startled her; sending a wake-up call from her disturbed state. Her vision was blurry, yet she knew well that the person sitting before him was not going to inflict her any harm. And for once, the void inside of her stopped growing; as she felt a rush of blood into her veins. She shuddered as she knew it was beyond their normal capacity. She began to feel fear; much fear than before—and confusion. As her blurry eyes came to focus, all the questions were gone—as she stared intently at the figure before her.

 [END]

(Plot inspired by Ed Sheeran's Give Me Love)