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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1573252-The-Melancholy-of-Angels
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Dark · #1573252
A dying boy's body is inherited by the soul of an angel of death...
            Rain. Pattering at every angle. There was no escaping it. It hurt. It hurt so much. It was overwhelming. I could feel it burning, burrowing into my back, sizzling small holes into me, into my skin. Ouch. It hurt. Oh, god, it hurt!

I stumbled about, searching desperately. I was frantic. I couldn't escape it. There was no escape from this horrid place. It was like hell. I was burning alive. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was no shelter. There was no escape.

My eyes scanned the landscape. I couldn't see a thing. It was all so dark. My vision was clouded, my eyes were clotted with streams of blood. Tears began to roll out of my eyes. They cleared my vision somewhat. I continued my frantic search for shelter.

Was I going to die here? Was that my fate? I would die here, with no knowledge of who or where I was, or why I was here. I would die a painful death, burning alive with each drop of rain that sizzled into my back. I would die here, not knowing who my family was or why they weren't here with me. I wouldn't even know my name, or why I was here in the first place.

I searched ever the more frantically. I couldn't die like this. It was much too pitiful.

Finally, I spotted a dark splotch on the horizon. I blinked, and it remained. My breath caught in my lungs, and my heartrate sped up to a tremendous rate. Hope rose through me like mercury through a broken thermometer. My legs were shaky and dead, but the hope gave me strength. I pulled myself up the hill, toward that black speck.

"I," I gasped between breaths, "I can do it..."

The speck grew closer and closer. Blood streamed down the sides of my face, blocking my vision all the more. I tried to wipe my eyes, but it didn't help at all. I was losing my vision at a very steady pace.

"I've got to," I choked, "I've got to!"

Finally, I couldn't see at all. My vision had been completely devoured by the blood in my eyes. I could feel it. Warmth--wet warmth pouring down the lengths of my arms, guided by the sharp, cold rain. I could feel the rain burrowing itself more and more into my skin. It burned badly. It felt like tiny, flaming knives were being twisted further and further into my spine and the rest of my body. I had to escape it. I couldn't die like this!

My legs felt like heavyweights. My arms felt heavier. My back was unbearably heavy. It was pulling me down. It wouldn't be long until I'd have to crawl. Nothing could be more pitiful than that. Nothing besides dying in this horrid state of physical and mental being.

"No," I told myself. "I won't die like that."

I continued to push myself up the hill. I was about to give up. I was so close to doing so. It hurt so badly. The pain was horrible.

But soon I just couldn't feel it any more. I stumbled a few more steps. I could hear the sizzling of the raindrops in my flesh, but I couldn't feel the new drops sizzling further. I could still feel the pain, but it wasn't as horrid. I closed my eyes, which were clouded with blood, and allowed myself to fall. My legs didn't catch me, and I plummeted to the ground. The nice, cold ground. It relieved me of some of my pain. It pushed away the burning sensation and cooled it. I was thankful for that.

My mind whirled. I hadn't given up, and yet it felt as though I had. Tears still streamed down my face. I wasn't sure any more if I'd just given up or not. I wasn't sure what had happened. It seemed much too surreal.

I let out one last sigh. My body shuddered. My whole was gripped by ice, it seemed. I curled into a ball, still shuddering. It wouldn't stop. Finally, I gave up. I was sure that I had anyway, and this only added to my reassurance. I had given up, and I was to die a pitiful, lowly death. But at least I'd given up peacefully.

I allowed myself to sleep. To really, truly sleep, for the first time since I could remember. For the first time since I'd been...."Born"...I slept.



Moments after I closed my eyes, I entered a dreamscape. At first it was blue--sky blue. Or baby blue. I couldn't be quite sure. But it was a beautiful colour. I was in the midst of opening my eyes. My surroundings came to my in a fluid fashion, dripping into place.

I was in a...house? No. A barn. Hay was stacked everywhere. The barn dripped various liquids in various places. I could smell animals. Or, rather, the excrement of animals. It was a natural scent, however. It didn't disturb me. I wondered, though, how often this barn was used. Cobwebs were spread everywhere, coating the walls in a silky haze.

I blinked.

My vision was hazy.It was as though I were staring past an arrangement of glass and fog. I could still see the contours of everything around me, and it became clearer as my eyes adjusted to the light. It was confusing, but I didn't question it. I surveyed the room again. Suddenly, I felt a pang of pain in my back. I braced myself, as though I were used to the sudden pain. After all I'd gone through that day, I didn't doubt that I was used to any pain the world might throw at me. But there was a sense of...nostalgia almost. Maybe it was deja vu. I couldn't quite place it.

The pain rippled through the entirety of my back now. I clenched my teeth and narrowed my eyes, doubling over in pain. It was over soon, though. Sooner than I had expected it to be. Once it was over, it felt as though a very heavy weight had been lifted. My breathing, once shallowed, was now whole. I grinned and stepped casually toward a window in the barn. I stared outside.

Darkness clouded the entire area. I could still hear the pattering of rain outside. I flinched warily. I wouldn't make the same mistake of going out there again.

I looked down at my arm. Several small, but highly noticeable, holes had been bored into my skin. Blood still seeped from the wounds.

I grimaced and lowered my arm. I looked back at the window. I noticed a white flash from behind me. I wanted to lash around defensively. I was on the alert. But I didn't. It was like I wasn't controlling my actions. Finally, I realized something that I should've realized before. It wasn't me that was controlling my actions. It was as though I were just here for the ride. I could feel everything that was happening, but I couldn't control it. I tried, but to no avail. I was losing my power to even think. I was fading...

I just stared out the window. That scene haunted my brain, but I couldn't turn away. It didn't take long for the white flash to appear again. I studied it closely this time, while I still had the power to think on my own. Finally, I realized what it was.

A long, silverish-white, angelic wing was stretched out behind me.

I flexed without my knowing it, and its equivalent appeared beside it.



          Shhhhhhhhnnnnkk!

Light flooded my eyelids immediately, riling me into an awake state. I lifted my head and took a deep breath, but it caught in my chest. I choked on my own spit. I coughed it up instinctively. The force sent me reeling back to the ground, where my head hit the cold floor sharply. The taste of that spit wasn't spit. It had a rusty taste, and an equally pungent scent. I opened my eyes slowly and gazed into a small pool of blood. The sight made me want to gag, but I'd done that already. Instead, I turned my head away and struggled to keep myself breathing.

Once my lungs had regained a steady, somewhat smooth pattern, I looked up.

In the open doorway of the barn stood a young girl with a water pail in her hand. Her other hand was seemingly keeping her in an upright position, leaning against the doorway.

Her eyes widened, and she dropped the water pail.

"PAPAAAAAA!!!" She screamed.

That miserable sound, her shriek, surrounded me. Waves of the sound echoed throughout the cavernous barn. Animals responded to her with clacking of hooves, scratching of claws, and shrieking of their own.

I couldn't take it.

I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around my head. I realized now, even through my pain, that the blood that had been on my arms was gone. My wounds, or at least most of them, were healed.

I didn't understand it, but I was thankful. It was miraculous, really. Or maybe that was just the way I was. I didn't know. But I did know, somehow, that it was something else.









© Copyright 2009 Miley Tainte (poeticsmiles at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1573252-The-Melancholy-of-Angels