"Fallen Angel"

I crave violence.

I crave an outlet for the rage that builds within me every time I watch some disgustingly happy couple neck in the park, hold hands at the mall, kiss at a red light...

I crave expression, art... but art of a different sort... A way to show, to teach, to warn...

Yesterday I saw a woman walking alone after dark. She was so lovely. She wore a bemused smile, pausing every few moments to stare at a sparkling diamond on her left hand. The sparkle reflected in her eyes as she turned toward me. She was so alive, so vibrant with joy that even I, who knew nothing about her, realized that she had just become engaged. I expected her to shout at any moment, to scream to the heavens with her ecstasy at being loved, but...

She continued walking without comment, lost in her own world. Safe within the protective bubble of her news, excluding any who would share her pleasure. Her eyes slid over me without pause, her step didn't falter. She paid no more mind to me than she would a pile of excrement in her path, save avoidance on a level she was probably unaware of.

So I followed.

I fell into step behind her, dirty bare feet making no sound as I padded along in her wake. She hummed softly beneath her breath, unaware of the dirty fallen angel who moved between the worlds. My teeth ground together as I recognized the tune, a hymn I myself had once sang in this same bliss... This sure and certain knowledge that I was loved, and always would be. I had felt warm and safe, I had a purpose. I had known, beyond a doubt, that my love could never be proven false.

It wasn't. HIS was. HE turned from me. I stood at his side during the battle, I supported and loved him, I looked down and away from those who would turn their back’s on all that HE offered… and still he cast me out because I would not enter into the fray.

Nothing will change his mind, he will not heed my prayers, he does not take pleasure in my good works or deeds.

Mothers were calling children into the houses as we passed, it was going into that time of night where most families are sitting around a table, or gathered before the television. The streets become deserted and lonely, reminding any solitary soul who might wander by to peek into those warm happy cocoons of familial love that they are excluded. Outcast. Unwanted.

A man opened his front door as we passed, called out a greeting to the woman. She paused to share her news and receive congratulations. I stood beside her, making no effort to remain disguised within the darkness but still… They did not respond to my comments, or answer my questions. Nothing that I could do would make them notice me.

It was fitting. They are, after all, made in His image…

I decided then, as the woman and I continued our walk down the street, that it was time to take an action. I would step forth into the world, I would do things that would force them to acknowledge me. I would make a mark. And if they would not see me, I would kill them all.

We turned into an apartment complex, moved through the deserted halls and entered a small dark apartment. The light was blinding when she turned it on, its unprotected bulb sent roaches scurrying into dark corners. She dropped her purse onto the couch and walked into the bathroom.

I watched as she undressed, my being filled with envy. Her flesh was soft, shaven smooth. An exquisite butterscotch tone faded to a soft milky white which showed the sparse covering of the bikini she usually wore while sunbathing. Her breasts seemed to have been perfectly formed, barely swaying as she bent over the tub to start a bubble bath. Well shaped legs moved upward, the muscles in her thigh rippling slightly as she went down to one knee, her posterior a lopsided heart shape.

I glanced in the mirror as the tub filled, comparing my own plain appearance to this woman’s supple form. HE had put all of his love and detail into the creation of Man and Man’s Consort.

My complexion was pale, uninspiring when compared to her butterscotch sweetness. My figure was insignificant beside her generous curvature. My hair hung limp around my shoulders while hers flowed freely to her hips. My pale eyes were nothing the electricity which fairly sparkled in hers.

God had spared no effort on Man, while he had wasted none on his Angels.

She slid into the luscious warmth of her bath while I stood over her thoughtfully. Her eyes closed as she sank within a sea of jasmine scented bubbles. Her knees peeked out of the water as she wet her hair.

I leaned forward, bent double at the waist. My hand did not cause disturbance as it moved into the water, I felt nothing of the warmth of the bath or the texture of skin as my fingers closed around her throat.

She felt me then, in those moments. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise. She struggled, spilling water over the edge of the tub and soaking her clothing. Her hands flailed, grasping at the edge of the tub, trying to pull herself out. She gulped water instead of air and fought harder for a moment. The overwhelming scent of jasmine filled the small room as her kicks shattered the bottle against the wall. Glass shards opened wounds in her foot and calf. I saw, quite distinctly, the word ‘help’ form on her lips.

My fingers tightened around her neck, pushing her back against the porcelain tub. My other hand reached into the water, grasping her hair firmly. I leaned close, the ends of my own hair trailing through bubbles. I smiled, releasing my hand from her throat to take hold of her chin, my other hand tangling in the hair at the back of her head.

Her body relaxed, an expression of relief crossed her face as she tried to sit up.

>>SNAP<< Her eyes went blank, her body limp.

Instantly I felt regret. I wished that I had taken more time, that I had put the same effort and care into her destruction that had gone into her creation, but I could do that next time. Already her spirit was beginning its journey into the heavens, where she would report what she had seen.

I stood, shaking the water off of my hands, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I turned to leave. There was a faint tint of pink to my cheeks now, a certain softness about the lips. My wings unfurled, stretching their tattered tips until they brushed against the bathroom walls. I smiled, leaning forward to whisper to my reflection.

“This is what happens when you ignore me.”