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Rated: E · Short Story · Supernatural · #1560943
A (very short) story about an angel. Inspired from Kinoko Nasu's "Angel Notes".
The thing which had fallen from the sky
Had the shape of a human;
And yet as I gazed upon its wings I thought
How
Unjust.

Angel

“They’re real,” she said, following my eyes.

Yes, I thought, as they stretched out to reveal their full brilliance. It was unbelievable, but there was no other choice than to

accept the existence of the being I had nursed back to health. Undoubtedly they were wings, but of an unearthly origin:

made of pure incandescent light, they protruded from the whole spine of the creature and their shape was ever-changing,

like that of fire.


“Do you know what it is to fly?” the creature inquired.

Why was she asking me something like that?

“To fly is to trust,” she said simply.

And with that she stood up next to the bed. She was a being of flawless beauty, so radiant that all her surroundings

seemed as if they had been painted in faded colours. I wanted to etch her figure into my mind, but for some reason found

myself unable to. It was as if something innate continued to reject her, preventing the transition from event to memory.

“You’re…not human, are you?”

I felt that it was something that needed to be asked, something that my very sanity depended on, but the question seemed

only to have amused her.

“Would a human be able to survive after a four thousand metre fall?”

No…but the fact remained that I had been able to save her with human medicine.

Then what exactly was she? A being of supernatural origin? A transient dream? I had not quite finished my thought process

when her form suddenly became blurred, like the features of a face from a distant memory.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing is wrong,” the creature answered gravely. “Your world is starting to reject my existence. It’s only natural.”

Only her eyes were visible to me now. And suddenly I felt the desire to save her from whatever had caused the sorrow I saw

deep within them. I needed to make sure that I would never see those eyes again.

“Tell me what I have to do.” The creature sensed my intent and said, almost imploringly,

“Name me. Give me a title that your world cannot deny.”

A winged creature whose beauty surpassed that of any existence on the planet. An entity so holy that the world itself

rejected it. There could be only one answer.
© Copyright 2009 Daniel Penderson (penderson_d at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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