If Songs Were Stories

Fallen Angel Three Days Grace

Lightning crackles through the sky leaving a faint trace by the means of rumbling thunder that cascades down from the heavens. Peering through a small window, watching the luminous sky was a small child around the age of eight who went by the name Chicha. Fascinated by the sudden movements of the lightning Chicha sat next to the lonely window of a cellar studying every flash. The screams of a woman could be heard through the paper thin walls of the old house. Her screams blended in with the thunder as the sky surged with anger. The child cringed as she once again heard the frantic cries for help that the woman shouted each and every night, for the screams came from Chicha's mother. This was a young woman in her late twenties who had given birth to three children since Chicha was born and one before. She was a quiet woman most of the time, she wouldn't make the slightest peep at dinner, but once the sky was dark Chicha's father would take the young woman and wrestle her to the floor, and force her to sin against the wishes of the man that the child read about in the book she came to know as The Holy Bible.

Once this world was good. People were nice, animals were free to roam the earth and do what they please. Were is the key word. Now, in my life this world is cruel. People scramble to scrape enough food to survive, and nearly every species is extinct. Humans are becoming what's left of the animals, they are betraying one another. Living life in the shadows. Living in fear. Living like me.

My ice cold glare sets itself on the shadow of a figure in the distance. I see that he has not one body but a second that grows off the side. Mutant. My uncle told me stories of men like him, men who lived too close to the nuclear attack on Washington back in 2050. Men from America. His light skin glistened with sweat, giving him the illusion of being a statue. Suddenly the deafening shot of my father's gun rippled through the air. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I counted the shots, he always fired seven times, a trick that was trusted to him by his own brother. Seven was his lucky number. His trust showed to be in the wrong hands as I found uncle in the cellar, he had seven holes in his head. The crimson liquid pooled around his disfigured remains. I sat next to him, waiting for him to wake from his deep sleep. I shook him. I hollered at the top of my lungs. I pounded on his chest. There was nothing I could do. He was dead. The sunset, leaving me alone in the darkness with the company of uncle. I was four when this happened. I haven't forgotten a detail since.

As I sat atop my tower of wooden crates that I use to maintain my post at the window, one of my siblings the opposing set of crates and said,"Why do you look so sad".

"It just never stops every night this happens every night he forces her to agree every night he disobeys the word of God, every night he forced to give him the one thing that keeps her human. She has sacrificed her grace. She stayed here to protect us, and in return, we look out the window and wish everything would be okay0. I wish that something would come down from the sky and say hey it's going to be alright  and it will fix our life and God will save us just like did for people in the book."

"How I wish it was that simple it just can't be their people in like a people that live there but don't watch from a gloomy basement people that can live their lives to the fullest. That's something you can't have and we will make it. I will take you and Sasha, and Amar, and Josephine and I will show you the world. I will save you from him."

I felt a warm trickle of tears begin to form on my cheek as I thought about my brother and sisters getting out of this cellar. Getting to live in the sun. Getting the life that we deserve.

Knowing that it doesn't help anyone if I cry I continue to stare out the window, puzzled by my sister's idea. A world without fear. A life that could be worth living. These ideas of new beginnings and happiness bring about tears of happiness and a smile on the child's face.

The uplifting air of hopefulness was quickly removed as one more shot was fired from above. This time, I knew. I knew it was not my father who fired the shot. It was my mother. The sudden clash of metal on metal sent my hands flying up to protect my ears from the uneasy sound. Thud. The sound of a single metal object as it hit the ground rattled through the air, causing time to stop nearly completely in that moment. The lock. I glanced towards the entrance of the cellar just as the squealing of rusted hinges once again filled the air and a blinding yellow light filtered down into the darkness of chicha's home.

"Come." The word was nothing more than a whisper produced by the woman. Frightful the five children edged towards the door, placing their arms above their eyes as to be able to see the blurred figure blocking the shimmery light. "It's alright." She said as she began hosting the children up one by one.

I stood confused as I watched my father's lifeless body. Could he really be dead? Are we finally free? The words raced through my head threatening to burst out of my awe-filled mouth.

Turning my attention back to my savior I saw that she had begun to leave, and had only caught a small glimpse of her heel as she ducked around the corner. Intrigued, I followed in her footsteps, wincing as the wooden planks whined beneath my feet. She took a left out of the elongated hallway, allowing me to peer around the antique trim that encases the entrance to a brightly lit room. I see that there is one light in the room, shining as bright as the sun on a summer day, or so I'd imagine it would be like. As my eyes adjust to the foreign object's glow I see that it is not a foreign object at all, but a single vial - about the size of an egg. Its contents were a metallic silver-white color, they seemed to stir and move as if it was alive. And then I realized it was.

In the back of my head I guess I always knew this, maybe it was part of a dream, or maybe an ancient story that was given to me by my mother, but I definitely knew something that my siblings did not. I knew that my mother was an angel.

She worked with the finest of creatures, guarding the gates of heaven, charging the minuscule admission of honesty, if only she could've used that on souls who were living. She saw a man who cheated death, a man who was brought back to the living by science. Her heart filled with joy-a joy that she had never felt, the joy of love. Feeling the pleasure of the emotion she confided in her employer in seek of support for her newfound passion. Instead, she was faced with exile when she was sent down from heaven for god had taken her wings. She landed in a pool of light, the reflection of the sun hitting her hard as if it was a smack to her ego forever wanting such a thing as love. She saw a man in the distance, he wore all gray and carried a shotgun at his side. She called out to him. As he came running closer the fallen angel saw that it was him, the very reason she was cast down to earth. She traveled many moons with him, listening to his stories and mimicry of human emotion, when the time came he took her to an old mansion on the hill - a mansion that she would stay trapped in for over two decades. He led her into the arms of the devil and reached into her chest pulling out a whitish silver thread which he then sealed in the vial which was then placed at the foot of an altar. The woman was his prize. Such a beautiful creature, so defenseless, so helpless, so vulnerable. She was tricked and betrayed. She had fallen.

A ball of light flew down from the sky, hurtling towards the house with earth shattering speed. The light was blinding. The crisp white light filled every corner of my vision surrounding me with light. Then I was surrounded by darkness. And then nothing. I knew that my mother was not the most perfect of angels, but I never thought that she'd fall so far.