The Fallen One
The fallen One
And he waited, the shadows of the passing days flicking back and forth, back and forth over his crouching figure. Just as they had a million times before, and as they would a million times again. The people that passed by never stopping to give him a second glance, never even noticed the shadowed being that stood motionless among them. He ignored them mostly, they were no longer of any concern to him. In aeons past he would have crushed them, destroyed their hopes their dreams…their very souls, but those times were behind him now. From time to time another of his kind would ride through, clouding the minds that it passed, just as he once would have twisting and destroying. Occasionally they would notice him, though most nowadays would just ignore him when they did, and continue on their path to destruction. Though at first a few had tried to make him join in, that was not going to happen again.
And so he stood, and waited and watched and remembered, he remembered how perfect his life had been in the beginning, he remembered the shining city of his homeland, the war that tore him from his honoured station, that cast him down, and most of all he remembered what he did in that war… However, more than that, he felt regret. And it burned through him filling his entire being with the pain and loss, the anger at what he had done, the fury of his choices, the haunting reminder of the fate that was waiting for him…always waiting.
But through it all he stood tall, he stood strong, and he waited, he waited for the end to come, so that at least he could face that with the last scraps of dignity and pride that he had carefully salvaged from his shattered soul.
And so he had stayed through rain and storm, flood and fire, war, peace, plague and pestilence, none had moved him, or even caused him to stir an eyelid…until …
Stacey could run no more… her heart pounded so loud and hard that she thought it would rip itself out of her heaving chest, her legs refused to work, leadened and burning they collapsed leaving her sprawled and helpless in the gutter. The sound of racing feet suddenly reached her ears, she shoved herself upright and out of the gutter, her eyes flicking wildly around, searching desperately for a way of escape. Though the reality soon became clear, it was hopeless; she was lying alone, in the middle of the town square… There were no lights in the windows to betray the presence of other people, though she could clearly see as the cold light of the full moon filled the square with an eerie forest of half-light and looming shadows that twisted and distorted reality, the shops that surrounded the square seemed to be miles away. So she did the only thing that she could, she rolled herself over and slowly started to drag her tired aching body towards the only thing that represented even a glimpse of safety, the ancient moonlit statue that stood alone in the middle of the square.
...until…something changed…
…she was only a few meters away now, perhaps if she could reach it then she could hide herself in the shadows at its base…
…it was…so…different…so…
…she reached the statue, its cold shocking her back into reality she watched in horror as her pursuers finally rounded the corner, for a second her spirits soared as they stopped in confusion, but then like a falling star her fragile hopes crashed and burned as they all unanimously turned and started to walk slowly towards the statue….
...pure...it reminded him of home…of those precious days before his fall…
…”hello there Stacy” the Irish accent cut like a knife through the still air “and what would a pretty girl like you be doing out here on a cold lonely night like this…surely you wouldn’t be hiding from li’l ole me would ya?”
…he wondered what it was…what could make him feel this way…what could possible be this pure in this fallen world…
…the Irishman slowly walked over to her “oh come now Stacey me love, what don’t you have anything to say to me? Your old buddy Carriag? I have to say, I’m offended”. Stacey looked up at the drunkenly swaying figure…”oh God” she whispered “please God, anything but this…”
..THE LIGHT...THAT BLINDING LIGHT LANCEING THROUGH HIS MIND…
…Carriag bent down next to the huddled and shaking silhouette that was Stacey, he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her delicate throat…”Now your going to be a good girl aren’t you now…cos you know what happens to bad girls don’t you?” Stacey sobbed in fear as his hand slowly started to compress on her throat…”don’t you”…his hand got tighter and his voice took on a menacing tone...so that soon Stacey was no longer sobbing…or breathing..
…but the light was fading now…leaving him with only the darkness of his past…why was the light leaving so soon, why was it taunting him? Why was he being given a taste of heaven only to have it snatched away so soon…
…a loud crack echoed through the square unsettling a group of pigeon that had been resting on the statues shoulder, Stacey gasped for breath her face stinging from the slap. “Now then me lovely are we going to be a good girl” Carriag maliciously stroked the side of her reddened face “Well…?” he raises his hand again. “YES, oh God…yes…just please…don’t hurt me... please…”
…but it wouldn’t stop fading…the light, HIS light, it was almost no longer there… and through its faded light he could see that there was something else…something darker… something that was trying to hurt his light…he wouldn’t, COULDN’T let that happen…
..Stacey closed her eyes…it was no use, she had run and she knew that for that it was going to be worse…but there was nothing she could do now…there was nothing that could help her…there was..
…and he opened his eyes, for the first time in 2000 years…he opened his eyes and what he saw would change him forever…what he saw was a second chance… Before him stood good and evil…once again…but this time… he wasn’t going to get caught out on the wrong side of his conscience…and with this thought he drew his ancient blade…he spread his midnight wings…and he fell with a scream of redemption and a look of death…and he lived once more….
Stacey opened her eyes to find herself standing alone…wait no… not alone…there was something standing there in front of her. Its hair was black and it wore a dark cloak of shimmering leather, it turned around, Stacey gasped, how could she not, his face was flawless and in his hand he carried a blade that burned with a twilight flame. He had wings that stretched out from behind him as if an eagle of the night was permanently perched upon his shoulders, but most of all were his eyes, his eyes burning with anger with shame and with more raw emotions than every language in the world could ever hope of naming but most of all…she saw…
“Who are you?” she asked in a shivering, cracked voice, “what are you?” “what do you think I am?” he replied his voice liquid silk flowing through her, “an…an Angel” she replied he laughed…”not everything with wings is an angel Stacey.” The realisation of those words hit her. ”No” she gasped “but you, you can’t be…you look so sad, so so sad… He laughed again but this time it was just the sound, there was no humour in it just a hollow, empty echoing of silent pain, and then he turned away and spread his wings his blade still burning as he sheathed it ‘neath his rippling cloak…“even Demons can feel regret”
