The making of an angel.

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Once upon a time, up in the skies, the heavens opened and dropped out a girl in a cloud of ash and smoke. The whole of time paused in anticipation to watch as she fell to the earth. She woke up in the emerald grass and rose from the ash with crackling red hair. With eyes that darted wildly, she smouldered the trees which bent lamely towards the light that shone from her face. Watched as they turned crisp, laughed as their carcasses turned to ash and blew away in the wind. Her dainty little footsteps sent rumbles over the skin of the earth, left bruises on the green and blue of the planet. And like blood, the magma beneath the crust swelled and clotted.
There is a boy, sitting on a fence, legs dangling in their shabby jeans. Placidly, he watches as she approaches, the music from his headphones humming. So close he can smell her burning hair and feel the heat from her fingertips, he watches as she shoots him an ethereal smile that could send stars shooting through the sky, and eats him like air.





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