Remember

The angel was heavy in Stacy’s arms, but still lighter than a person its size would normally be. Its eyes were open, staring, less a single colour and more a prism reflecting all light in different, constantly changing directions. Its skin was alabaster, not in colour but its smooth and unyielding nature. No, it was paler than alabaster, an almost blinding whiteness matched only by the wings that unfolded from its back. The wings were spread wider than the angel was tall, the tips only just brushing the ground, far to each side. The feathers that touched the ground were wet and gold from the pool of blood that spread gradually around Stacy, steadily dripping from the gaping hole in the angel’s chest. The angel’s eyes moved slowly, ponderously, until they met Stacy’s.

“You caught me.” It said. It did not speak the words, but Stacy heard them regardless.

Not trusting herself to speak, Stacy simply nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. She couldn't remember when she had started to cry. The angel seemed to sigh, although whether it was capable of breathing Stacy was unsure. The prismatic eyes burned brighter for a moment and Stacy was aware of the angel’s hand at her temple. She hadn’t seen it move.

“Remember this, Stacy.” The angel spoke-without-speaking. “When the darkness draws close, when you feel you have lost your way, remember this.”

Stacy felt a searing pain in her temple and screamed, her entire body convulsing, soaking her jeans further in the golden blood. Before she was aware that she made a noise, the pain was over and the angel’s arm was back in its lap.

“How do I fix this?” Stacy’s voice came out cracked and broken. She didn’t know how long she had been crying for. “How do I help you?”

The angel smiled, an expression so full of kindness and benevolence that Stacy almost forgot that it was dying. “You cannot help.” It replied. “My time is done. Such is the will.”

The angel drew in a breath and let it out slowly, the sound like a flock of doves taking flight. By the time it had finished sighing, Stacy was alone, kneeling in a room she didn’t recognise, her hands soaked with the blood of an angel. She stayed in that position, crying until her eyes dried up and then for a while longer. The blood dripped like honey, each drop swallowed eagerly by the pool under her. Her temple throbbed in time with her heart, but somehow she knew that it wasn’t her heartbeat she felt.

When her chest finally stopped heaving, she stood up. She had not noticed in her fugue state, but the golden blood had been slowly moving, draining from her jeans and forming a large shape around her; a circle but more complex, although she couldn’t say where or how. The blood began to glow softly, then brighter, then brighter still, until the entire room was awash in the golden radiance, so bright that Stacy had to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was in her room. Her jeans were dry, her hands clean, but she could still feel the blood on her palms and between her fingers. The pulsing in her temple had stopped, but not gone away. Stacy could feel it lurking just out of sight, waiting around the next corner, waiting until it was needed. A tsunami of exhaustion nearly brought her to her knees and she stumbled over to her bed, lying down fully dressed. She closed her eyes and within moments, woke up.




This was inspired by a couple of lines from Bridges, by Rise Against. If you listen to it you'll hear the ones I mean.