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Nov. 1st, 2005 @ 02:28 am Smoke
This flame is: anxiousanxious
Current Music: The shins
The wings were forever scarred, stained black by soot as the legions burned their faith. Flight was stripped of the dark wings, at least for this moment. Time regained meaning as the angel woke up, after being banished forever from the skies for loving man too much. Banished for trusting mankind to return even with knowledge of the great plans, the angel couldn't fall futher then that stream-bed. Soot formed small black veins as it rushed from the charred remains of useless wings that only brought the painful memory of being forsaken.
Without faith an angel is nothing, it shouldn't exist, so this being should have been only dust. With wings stripped of feathers, the being was practically chained to the ground. A little kid ran toward the stream that was perfect for playing.
"What are you doing mister?" the youth's bright blue eyes search the lost guardian.
The angel stirred to look at the child with vibrant green eyes resting under a fiery mane. "I have fallen. Run child before the demonic nature rises in me."
The kid giggles bouncing the golden locks that framed an innocent face. "That why you have wings?" the seven year-old asked before touching the felt like fabric of the angel's black wings. Traces of white could be seen where the small fingers touched but faded quickly like finger prints on a sunburn.
"Yes once they served a much more noble purpose."
"Why don't you just fly back to heaven?"
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because broken wings can't support anything."
"Why are they broken?"
"I lost faith."
"Why?"
"They burned my book."
"Why?"
"They didn't understand."
"Why?"
"I guess they just weren't ready for it."
"So you lost flight because some stupid people burned a book?"
"In a nut shell."
"Would you get it back if you had faith?"
"No faith can only stop me from falling now, and there's nothing to believe in."
"What about yourself, my mommy said you should alway believe in yourself." The child handed the falling angel a flower and ran off.
Without bothering to acknowledge what was lost, again, the angelic being rose slowly from the ground, such a mundane fall could not destroy such an ethereal creature. The wings floated carelessly in the wind, like sheets hung out to dry, before the astral creation hid the useless stumps so that the angelic beauty would be the only thing to make him standout. Immortality can be such a curse, especially when it comes without the normal benefits.
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