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John's P.O.V

What a tragedy it would be to cry on the beach.

I stand on the top of the cliff, barefoot, letting my white dress flow as the wind pushes the waves to the shore.

I feel the sand beneath my feet and close my eyes, inhaling the scent of the salt. It's cloudy out and there's not a human in sight.

The gray clouds and the fog suggests that there's a storm near, but I couldn't care less. I open my wings and take my hair out of its ponytail, letting the curls spill down my shoulders naturally.

Sometimes I'm convinced that I'm God's least favorite angel. It's as if he knows something about me that I don't know about myself.

Well duh, John I scold myself He's God, for God's sake.

I sit down on the edge of the cliff and let my feet dangle off the side. I close my eyes and feel tears swell up in my eyes.

I pissed God off again. How was I supposed to know that his stallions weren't for riding? The white horses are supposedly show horses, but I took them down to the water to race them and God yelled at me. For the 5th time this week.

He doesn't let me go to the dinners anymore or go to official meetings. He says I'm too reckless. I've resorted to sneaking off to the human world when he's not looking.

Yes, contrary to popular belief, God does have a blind eye. Why do you think children are starving?

Only guardian angels are supposed to go into the mortal realm, but there's nothing for me in heaven. I mean, I could probably join the choir, but I think I'd rather shove coals in people's asses in hell.

God doesn't trust me to be a guardian angel.

"You can't even carry an apple to the throne room without dropping it" he'd boom. "Who could trust you with a human life?"


I feel a few tears stream down my cheek. I silently scold myself for crying. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be God's warrior. But here I am, crying like the baby Jesus.

My tears are crystal clear, like most angels - besides archangels - they cry gold.

They're wet, but once they fall from my face, they crystallize and turn solid. Demons like to collect them and if a human is lucky enough to find one, they most likely sell them.

I'm half-temped to throw my halo in the water, but I'm actually quite proud of it as I earned it fair and square a couple centuries ago after saving a little girl from drowning.

Right in this very spot.

After a few moments, I stand up and wipe my face. Well, if Heaven doesn't want me, I'll just go have some fun in the human world...

But how to pass as a human...?

My wings are tucked away neatly. I can feel the feathers brushing against my back, but it's hidden from mortals. Thanks God.

I wear my plain white dress along with a pair of sandals. I'm unaware of what the modern human wears, but this seems good enough for me.

I make my way to a club. Bad angel move, I know, but one can only take so much "purity" before they start to turn insane.

I walk in and take a seat on one of the stools, nervously twirling my hair. I've never been around so many humans. There's a lot of laughter and flirting and singing and dancing.

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