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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1605233-The-Fallen-Angel
by Kix
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Mythology · #1605233
A short story about a man and his Angel
    Walking through the streets by myself, wondering how I got to where I am as a person. Through all the pain and anger I have endured in this life. Lost relationships, opportunities, a child, everything. How did I come to be who I am? I still cant answer that question to myself.
    As I walk I come upon a crowd. Men, women, and children all crowd around. What it is I cant see. Whatever it is it is causing a giant rukus and people are shouting about it.
    "Kill it!" One man yells.
    "It needs to be destroyed!" A woman yells.
    I fight my way to the front of the crowd to see what it is. Pushing people aside and people pushing my small, short frame like nothing. Whatever it is I want to know what has caused such a large, angry mob. Finally I make it to the front of the crowd after getting pushed around and hit several times. What lay there amazed me.
    It was a beautiful woman. Though she wasnt at the same time. Large glittering wings came from her back. She had an innocent angelic look with her fair yellow hair, and kind baby blue eyes. She was there in a fetal position crying, laying in a puddle of dirty water. Her beautiful eyes streaming tears that turned her fair skin a puffy pink color. Mud smeared across the shimmering white gown she wore and dirtied her skin.
    People still shouted. Talking to eachother about killing her and it being the right thing to do. The old man next to me looked at me in a crazed fashion.
    "God has cast her out. We must do gaods will and make sure she can do no more evil." He told me with a glint of being psychotic in his eyes.
    A man jumped out of the crowd with a knife and lunged toward her. Quickly I moved and went for him. Not aiming correctly I grabbed the blade of his knife and i tore into my hand. The knife wasnt sharp but dull so instead of slicing clean through my hand it tore chunks out of it.
    The man fell, the knife still in his hand. He stared up at me with his young but determined eyes. The crowd went quiet. Everyone stopped and stared at me. my hand dripped blood and chunks of meat from it. There I stood, between the crowd and the angel. I naturally started to assume that this was the day I would die. The man with the knife got up and withdrew back into the ranks of the crowd.
    "Son, what do you think your doing?" Asked the old man that was standing next to me. "This is how it has to be. dont get in the way, just move."
    "I can't just move and let this happen!" I yelled at the crowd. "Your not going to kill her unless you kill me too!" I yelled at them.
    They all looked at eachother in bewilderment. Half of them are contemplating killing me to get to her. I could tell that. I felt a tug at my leg. The angel was wrapping her arms around my leg and holding them as if i was some kind of comfort. I looked back at the crowd who saw the gesture. Some started to leave. Many stayed there just staring at me. It was time to leave, before someone else got the idea to try again. My hand seared with pain but I knew I had to help her up and bring her with me.
    Slowly and cautiosly I turned around and knelt beside her. She stared up at me with her streaming eyes and wrapped her aroms around my neck and buried her face in my chest. I slid my arm under her legs and lifted her off the ground and out of the mud puddle. She was alot smaller and lighter than I thought she would be. I carried her through the crowd and back down the street where I had come from to my home.
    "You don't know what your doing son!" yelled the old man from the crowd. "Bring her back and we can end all of this. Its a mistake what your doing!"
    I kept walking. Not looking back or acknowledging anyone I walked past. She might have been a fallen angel, but she was still an angel none-the-less. As I walked I started hearing a coo through her sobs.
    "Thank you." She said looking at me momentarily before re-burying her face in my chest.
 
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