The Turning of the Angels

May 5, 2013
Light streams in from the spaces between the many leaves of the forest. I feel unsafe here. It’s not what I’m used to. I am used to the open spaces of the sky, or the plunging seas, in both of which I am free. Here, I am trapped, with no space for my wings, and I keep hitting my halo on trees. Something catches my eye. I walk towards it. It’s a flower, a small red one with beautiful petals. Humans have a word for something this beautiful…perfect. Yes, that’s it. I reach out my hand to pick the perfect flower and pull it back in shock and pain. I look down at my hand and see that it’s bleeding badly, from one little pin prick. Something is wrong. I shouldn’t be losing this much blood. I press my hand against my white gown, trying to get the blood to stop, but it doesn’t, it just stains a small spot red. Soon, the red spreads and spreads until it’s changed the whole gown, which was already ripped from my trek through the woods, red. I scream in pain and fall to the ground. My back, where my wings are, feels like it’s tearing apart. My halo clatters to the ground in front of me. I stagger forward. Water. I need water. I break through some vines and see a lake. Lake! I crawl towards it an am about to dive in when I see my reflection, which causes me to scream. My halo is gone (I knew that…), and my hair, usually blonde with silver highlights, is now black with red lowlights. My dress is torn beyond repair, but yet it still is wearable, and it’s a deep red that just reminds me of the pain emanating through my body. My gold bracelets have been replaced with black spiked ones that snake along my arms. Most terrifying are the sharp leather wings that replace my soft white ones. I back up from this terrifying reflection that does not show me, an angel, but someone entirely new. I have become a devil.

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