Prologue
Angel from the sky
Perugia was situated between undulating emerald hills of magnificence, nestled next to immense, voluptuous mountains. The hills were dotted with dark green pines and the earthen ground behind it showed through patches. Arising from behind this view came the mountains—a force of great heights and coloration. From the base to the top, the mountains were enveloped in smoky blue, only touching violet at the very tips; where the ominous points touched the baby blue sky with a dignified gentleness.
The sky itself was a thing to behold; with the light streaming down onto the city like great golden arms. Clouds, like laughing children, embraced the bright blue hue of the open air with a serenity that was to be awed at. Among these hills of stature, topped upon the mounted trees, coffee colored houses, each one forming after the other like earthen giants—castles of the hills. They came at an undulating pace; the blood-red roofs a stark contrast to the milky blue of the mountains behind it.
All was quiet in the mountainous town; the only sound were from the sky—the chirping of passing hawks, the rustle of the wind as it brushed past the pine leaves, and the slowly, steady movement of the people in the town. Like tan-colored ants, the people down below in the town were running about their usual errands. Children ran around wildly in the town center, enjoying the feel of the sun’s warming rays on their bare backs. Women holding baskets of cloth and bags of food from the inner Market shouted at them, yelling curses and warnings of the sun’s danger with the slightest of smiles. The men of the town were laboring over a newly built wall, or hurrying their scolding wives into the tan-colored houses with a gentle force.
No one could imagine that such a place of peace could be the landing of what happened next.
Many people in Perugia, at the moment when the thing flew out of the sky, where too preoccupied to noticed anything out of the ordinary. And even if they had, they would have told themselves it was a trick of the light, or the sun’s rays bouncing off a cloud. But it was neither. Somewhere in the distance, across the brightness and shimmering blue of the mid-morning sky, an illuminated dot formed itself. One could have easily mistaken it for a star, had it been night and not day.
Within a few minutes, it was more a bulky shape than a dot, however, and it was then when the people of Perugia really took notice of it. Many a man and woman shielded his or her eyes to watch as what seemed to be a piece of reddish gold became larger and more pronounced with every second. The children stopped in the midst of their playful games to glance in wonder at the sky. At first, people assumed it was a passing plane, or perhaps a light in the sky. But when they saw that the tinge of red was made by the burning flames that engulfed the object, they lost their curiosity and gained fear.
It was the women who started to scream, their eyes widening, their hands wringing in their linen skirts. They hurried after the children—who were not fearful, as most innocent children are—pushing them into shadowed doorways and yelling at the ones who ran from under their skirts to watch in awe as the shape took the form a an oval-shaped ball of red and black flame. The men ran inside their houses, soon arming themselves with what they thought could ward off what seemed to them to be an intruder. The air was filled with pleads to God and repentance for whatever they thought they had done wrong to have this fall upon them.
The second thought that occurred to them, as their small minds tried to understand the meaning of the thing that inched towards the earth, was that it was a meteor. A similar thing had occurred, they had heard, in Greece. Perhaps this was a broken piece of waste hurdling through the air from the outreaches of space? Whatever it was, the people knew to take cover. Soon it was so close to the surface that the heat of the flames embraced the trees around it, whose leaves soon turned orange. No one was left in sight, afraid of becoming burnt.
When it collided with the earth, everyone could feel it. Some even peeked through misted windows to see what was happening. It was more of a sensation that they all felt, rather than the sound that was heard. The earth shook for a split second, lights flickered, and children slid a few inches forward; screaming with excitement while their mothers hushed them worriedly. Then Perugia halted, and became silent; the only noise was the rush of wings of a hundred birds that lifted from their nestled areas in the trees into the sky with shrieking protests at being disturbed.
For a few long moments, no one moved. The eyes that peered through the window saw and reported on a piece of black stone. The fire had been extinguished moments before landing, through some mystery of the atmosphere. But was it really stone? It seemed carved, two parts; one left and one right, were etched and textured as if it were covered in tarred feathers. It was no larger than the size of a man, and lay on its side, unmoving.
With apprehension marked on their faces, a few curious and frightened people crept out from their hiding places; through trees and houses, from behind boulders and hills. The bravest could only bring himself to step ten feet away from the thing, shaking all the while. It still didn’t move. Neither did the people, until, without seeming to put any effort into it, a young girl walked straight up to the black stone and tapped it gently with a forefinger.
Everyone in the town gasped at the audacity, at the boldness of the child. Her wavy blonde hair flapped in the passing breeze, as she passed her pale fingertips over the object, feeling it’s intense warmth which comforted her. Her name was Pipi Agostina, and she was not afraid. Strangely enough, as Pipi’s large olive eyes scanned the dark object, and as her touch to the thing grew warm, she realized it could not be a stone. For as she felt the warmth of it radiated through her thin fingers, she could—beneath it, feel a drumbeat. It was consistent, soft like a hum; a heart beat.
Pipi’s eyes widened as she realized the object was a living, breathing, man. Or what she thought must be a man. The other people around her started as they saw her look of utter surprise. They called to her in frightened tones, asking in wonder about the invader. Pipi told them in hushed tones that it was something very alive. This only proved to further their anxiety, screaming at the bewildered child to get back before it became the death of her.
Pipi didn’t move. There was something about this living creature that she was drawn to, something that kept her calm and made her soul feel warmed. She would not draw back, not ever, not until she saw the creature in full. That was when it moved. She had almost forgotten it could, being alive and all, and she practically jumped back; not in terror but in shock. She felt the people of Perugia back a few inches worriedly, as if the thing would attack them where they stood at any given moment.
With what seemed to be a monumental effort, the creature unfolded itself and brought itself upright into a standing position. A few of the women screamed; and then subsided as they saw what it was. The men lowered their weapons in obvious shock, and Pipi felt her eyes bring drawn to it, unable to pull the gaze away.
It was a man, or not a man; one could not say for sure. It had the built of a man, young perhaps—he could possibly pass for seventeen or twenty. He was covered in black, but it was obvious now that this was from the ash brought on by the fire that had once enveloped him. His face was a bit unclear through the substance, but his eyes—as bright blue as any of the towering mountains behind then—shown through the mess of black as they opened and stared at Pipi with a gaze that was hard to distinguish. Was it joy? Shock? Anger?
From his chest all the way down to his torso, he was thinly built; looking both half starved and beautiful. He was unclothed from the torso and below, and Pipi averted her eyes, looking, instead, at his back; where two large things protruded awkwardly. She realized that when, before, she had noticed a strangely textured area upon what used to be thought as the stone, was really a pattern of matted and dirty feathers. And as the being stood and continued looking at her, seemingly puzzled about something, she realized they were none other than voluptuous yet strangely arched wings.
An angel had fallen from the sky.
