The Crying Angel

story by: Sarah Klein
Written on Mar 05, 2013

The rain hasn't stopped. It's been raining for three days. The angels must be crying a fit up there. You stare out the window of your kitchen in your two story home hidden in the woods and you could see the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance through the rain. Everything seems so dreary. A sigh escapes your lips as you go back to washing the dishes, you've been on edge since this morning. You just know something’s gonna happen, you’ve got that itch. The one that's always between your shoulder blades and you just can't reach. Usually when you get that feeling something happens but it's been quiet all day. Maybe it'll be big, whatever it is. The light disappears as night creeps upon the woods and you've finished the dishes. You catch yourself staring out the window again and shake yourself out of it. You start heading upstairs when you notice the light in your shop is on. That's weird though ‘cause you've been inside all day. You grab a coat and head out to investigate and light floods around you as you open the barn doors and walk in. You walk around the shop looking under tables and behind equipment but find nothing. You were working in here yesterday with that new order so maybe you just left it on since. You shake your head as that sounds false even to yourself and close up shop, locking the door this time. Back inside you shut the lights off and head off for bed, the feeling getting stronger as you reach the second landing and you start rolling your shoulder trying to shake it off. Once in the shower it seems to shove off and you quickly clean up feeling like there's eyes in the room. You quickly step out and dry off, getting dressed and start drying your hair when that feeling comes back stronger than ever. You stop as you step into your bedroom sensing something. Moments of silence pass until finally......you sneeze. You quietly laugh at yourself and climb into bed.
As you snuggle under the covers the feeling finally disappears, perhaps this was just an off day. As you start to drift off a noise catches your attention. You can hear the rain pouring outside as you sit up and see your window’s open. You still as you see wet foot prints leading away from the window. Suddenly another noise is sounded in the dark corner. You fumble with the lamp as you try to find a weapon but as the light comes on a quiet gasp escapes from your lips. There in the corner is a man. No not a man but a man with wings. Wings blacker than the darkness before dawn, so beautiful yet so frightful. The man himself was just as handsome surely a work of art from God himself. The man pants and slowly falls to the floor as you stare but once you see the blood you jump out of bed running to him. He's covered in terrible bloody wounds and bleeding profusely. As you run to his aide he tries to hold you back but quickly passes out as you come close. Wasting no time you run for towels and a first aid kit. You have no idea what good it'll do but you know one thing, you can't let him die.
After what seemed like hours you finally maneuver him onto the bed and dressed his wounds. You had no idea what should be wrapped or stitched so you did a little of both, especially on those that seemed life threatening. After all that, his face finally seemed relax and once he's more comfortable and you checked his fever, you collapse into a chair. As you drink some water from the pitcher you begin to study him more closely. His wounds were so terrible that you can only imagine some giant blade like a war axe or a sword made them. His clothes, if that's what you could call them, were so tattered you just used them as rags but them seem expensive considering how fine the fabric felt. It's a wonder he even survived. And you may be bias in saying this but his anatomy was certainly a fine example of male pride but it was his face and wings that kept your attention. His face was full of lines almost rough. Almost like God wanted to keep the wildness of nature in him, but combined with this softness that seems to hide and only came out in unexpected areas. His hair was shaggy only reaching his ear in length but was smooth to the touch, and so black. They matched his wings so perfectly you could barely tell the difference. Even the feathers of his wings felt as smooth as his hair. Or was it the other way around? And they were massive! Taking up the entirety of your king size bed. You were worried about hurting them in the beginning but they seemed to fold out of the way when needed. Funny, but his wings seem to be the only thing on him that's not hurt. Maybe it's true that angel wings are softer than air yet harder than steel. You continue to watch him through the night and when you fell asleep you dreamt of him. Of flying in his arms, soaring through the air. Of feeling his feathers tickle your face as he flaps them. Of clawing his back as sweet warmth spreads through you from him. You jolt out of bed at that last part and for a moment you stand there panting, confused. You fell asleep in that chair but you woke from the bed. You quickly run out as you realize he's not in bed and start to franticly search for him. You finally spot him outside and run out to meet him. There he stands in the clearing in all his god given glory, bathing in the sunlight. It's then you realized it stopped raining and everything has a fresh clean look to it. As you step closer you see his face and he seems......sad. You can practically see the tears running down his face as he looks to the heavens but he never sheds them.
"Are you an angel? A fallen angel?"
He seems startled at finding you there, whether from finding him in a private moment or looking for him at all, you can't tell.
"Yes I am." He pauses a moment, studying you, "Do you not fear my black wings?"
"Don't be stupid they're beautiful. I wish I could have them."
A moment of shock crosses his face as you step in front of him.
"Why on earth would you want cursed wings?"
"Who says they're cursed?" you ask with a raised eyebrow, "Just because they're black doesn't mean they're cursed. Not all wings are white take the crows for instance. And just because you're fallen doesn't mean you're bad. Just sad maybe."
The shock and query on his face continue to grow as he crosses his arms and stares at you.
"What makes you say that?"
You can't help but smile at him.
"Because you sought help. Men who are bad wouldn't, they would demand it. And you tried to keep me away ‘cause you didn't want me to be scared, which was stupid if you ask me. And because you were crying just now. Not for real I know but I saw the tears of your soul. You were crying to God, whether in apology or asking for forgiveness I don’t know. But I say he should do both, you're not so bad."
He just stares at you for what seems like minutes. Slowly a soft smile sweeps across his face as a twinkle reaches his eye.
"It seems he has answered my prayers."
You turn your head to the side as you ask, "What prayer?"
"That he send me someone to love."
Before you could react he grabs you close and holds you tight. He wraps his wings around the two of you as he crushes his lips to yours. Your breath is taken away as the sear sensation of the kiss courses through your veins like white lighting. You throw your arms around his neck and claw through his hair as you deepen the kiss and you can feel the light darken on your skin as his feathers brush against you. You don't care of his past or how he got his wounds. You could even care less how he became a fallen angel. Cause as this burning heat courses through the two of you seeming to burn your very souls alive you're aware of one thing. It seems God has also answered your own prayer, one you've made when you were little. You don't remember who but someone once told you that it rains because an angel in heaven is crying. So you prayed to God that the next time when an angel cries to send them to you. Caused you would love him no matter what and make his tears go away……….forever.
THE END

 

Tags: love, faith, hope, dark,

 

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