About Angels...

This is a collection of three vignettes I had to write for school, but I thought they just might be good enough to share with you! They are in a chronological order, which is a bit strange for vignettes, but there is an undetermined amount of time between each vignette. Feel free to critique all you want, I'll put up the second and third latter

Fly with Grace

"You know you don’t have to get a halo," Michael told me, his voice as soft as a dove’s wings, trying desperately to convince me to stay in the safety of the Heavenly court. "There are plenty of angels much older than you that don’t have them yet," he continued, "you’re lucky to even have wings yet."

"I know," I responded with a sigh. "I know."

"You really don’t have to do this. There are many others that will take your place if you just ask," Gabriel added wringing his hands, the feathers of his wings sticking out at odd places to complete his frazzled look.

"I know Gab," I said, forcing myself to give him a smile. A tired, weary smile but a smile none the less.

"I really don’t understand why you all want halos so bad in the first place," a young woman added flippantly, running a hand through her boyish short hair and then placing it on her hip defiantly.

"Oh course you wouldn’t Joan, you’re not an angel," a man with a modest beard and kind eyes said beside her. Then, under his breath he added, "Stupid arrogant martyrs…"

"I heard that John!" The woman yelled, bopping him on the head half-heartily.

"Oh dear…" An elderly man with a long, snow white beard murmured as he watched the two mock fight. I knew that they’d never really hurt each other anywhere but their eardrums, but the out-of-place fight still startled many people.

"Would you two stop your trivial squabble and help our poor little newbie!" Michael yelled, suddenly growing impatient with them.

"Oh…" The two fighting Saints mumbled and broke apart, only daring to shot one last glare at each other.

"Now technically he’s not a newbie," the old man added with a beard the color of pure milk corrected. "He’s already has his wings and he’s only a year out of the academy."

"Thank you Nicholas," I said, smiling fondly at the old grandfather of a man with his sugared words and hair.

"Ho, ho. No thanks need my son," Nicholas said.

The cloud grew quiet as the two Arch Angels and three Saint waited for someone to say something. The mission The Lord had assigned me was as hard as the steel of a new, cold knife. It was insane really, sending a bud of an angel like me up against the Fallen One. Even the Saints chilled at the thought. Only an Arch Angel should be left to such a task. And yet…

"This is insane!" Joan finally yelled out, throwing her fist in the air with new found rage.

"Joan…"Nicholas pleaded, his voice soft and careful.

"What could The Lord be thinking giving such a dangerous assignment to him?!" She demanded to no one in particular as she stomped a foot on the ground.

"Joan, The Lord always knows what he’s doing," Gabriel informed her, trying to calm her down as his feathers became even more frazzled.

"STILL! It’s crazy! His second assignment is against the Fallen One!?!"

"If The Lord believes…"

"HE LORD CAN KISS MY BUTT IF HE THINKS I’M GONNA LET THIS POOR LITTLE ANGEL GO UP AGAINST THAT DEMON!"

"JOAN OF ARC, HEAR YOU ME! YOU WATCH YOUR TONGUE AND APOLOGIZE FOR USING SUCH VULGAR LANGUAGE IN THE HEAVENLY COURT THIS INSTANCE!"

"NO!"

"Um…Really Joan, John…you don’t have to fight about me…"I informed them, pleading almost. Joan and John broke off imminently and turned to me. Joan knelt, all her fire gone, and placed a hand on my cheek.

"You don’t have to go little one…"She whispered, her voice as soft as goose down.

"I know," I said. I forced a smile. "That’s why I’d go no matter what."

Joan frowned, saddened that I was going to go along with something so dangerous. John knelt next to her and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Call for help any time and I’ll personally make sure one of these dead-beats," he pointed to Gabriel and Michael,
"comes running."

"Dead-beats…?" Gabriel pouted, wringing his hands again. Michael just smirked and scratched his head innocently.

"We’ll come," he assured me. But he knew I wouldn’t call. I needed to do this all on my own.

Nicholas placed a hand on my head. "Good luck child," he blessed me, "Fly with grace." I nodded as I brought myself to my feet and spread my fluffy white dove wings as far as they would go.

I took off and flew with grace.

I loved it. Very amusing. suggestion though; use 'speech marks'

JigSaw wrote:I loved it. Very amusing. suggestion though; use 'speech marks'

That's exactly what I was going to say! Well, I thought that maybe, just maybe, the beginning was just like a flashback in a person's head and wasn't supposed to have speech marks, but then I scrolled down and there were none!

People tend to use ". . ." when someone is actually talking.

I haven't gotten around to reading the whole story yet.

Also, when you use all caps, the writing becomes very annoying to read. Simply putting an exclamation mark at the end will do the work for you.

"My dog is beautiful!"
"I hate my life!" she screamed.

Use all caps only to make a really, really, really loud noise. Always use an exclamation mark and never use all caps frequently. For example.

"SKUNK GO BOOM!"

Thanks for the advice. The reason there were no speech marks is because in the vignettes I was reading the author didn't use any and I though it might add to the feel if I didn't use any either, but if two people think its bad I'll change it.

Griffinkeeper wrote:Use all caps only to make a really, really, really loud noise. Always use an exclamation mark and never use all caps frequently.

I changed one of them I think, but the part where John and Joan are yelling at each other I want to make sound really loud, so I'm going to keep it like that. Sorry it it annoys you.

Second vignette, hope you like. My English teacher did at least. I got an A! Yay for me!


Stones can be either very hot or very cold, depending on the sun. It all depends on whether or not the Sun decides to heat the stones or not. If the Sun graces the stones with its presence the stones will be warm. If not, the stones will remain cold. The Sun has never shone on these stones. They have always been cold, they are cold, and –perhaps- they will always remain cold. Cold as ice. Cold as Jack Frost’s breath. Cold as a killer’s heart. Cold, cold, cold. But I’m sitting here anyways.

The street was cold a year ago too. 365 days ago. 365 days ago I came down here, I flew down here, I fell down here. 52 weeks ago I came here, disguised as a little white dog, with one black spot around my eye. 12 months ago I walked the streets along side children dressed as ghosts and power rangers and princesses. 8760 hours ago I saw him, dressed as a monster, a demon, a devil. Fallen, fallen, fallen. 21,900 minutes ago her pulled a knife from the dark. A cold, cold knife. Colder than any stones. 1,314,000 seconds ago thick, crimson pools covered the hard cold ground around me.

I back. I bark and it seems to travel throughout the garden as fast as an escaped prisoner from jail. A prisoner on death row. The boy, the demon, the devil, is in the window. He hears my bark, he hears my cry, he hears the cry of the prisoner on death row. The demon turns, it sees me. Its face – horrid, red, toad face – shows recognition. He hasn’t forgotten. Not about me.

If I hadn’t been the one to stand by the Lord’s side that day, would he have ever met me? If I hadn’t been the one to hear the Lord speak, what would have happened? Who would the Lord have talked to?

"He’s on Earth," He whispered, eyelids closed, hiding his all-knowing eyes.

"Lord?" I asked, confused.

"I can sense it, I can sense him" he said. I still didn’t understand, I was still empty. He continued without waiting for me to say anything. "After the last battle he had his spirit transferred else where, on Earth."

"I was silent. What was I to say? It had clicked.

"I need you to find him," he said, opening his eyes. What was I to say?

"Yes Lord."

And I found him. I lost the last time, but this time, this time I shall not lose. The demon disappears, but he isn’t running away. He will come to me. I can also sense him. I know him. I know he is running down lushly carpeted stairs, carpet just the right color to hide blood that falls on it. I know when he runs across the marbled tile, a flooring that causes a sonic boom whenever his pudgy feet strike it. I can sense his piggy, sausage-link hands pushing against the grand oak door. Cold, evil hands, Blood-stained hands. He pushes open the door. He steps out. He steps out into the cold that does not effect him, the cold that emits from him, that surrounds him, engulfs him, is him. Our eyes meet. Such cold eyes. They are like ice. Cold, but thin and weak and transparent. I can see right through him. I turn and start down the stone steps, cold stone steps. He follows.

This garden is death. Dead all year long. Even if all the flowers were abloom and the trees were green and the hedges were trimmed it would still be dead. Because nothing can live without the Sun. And the Sun does not shine here. It never will, not as long as the demon is here.

My soft padded feet race down the cold steps, barely touching them, twice as fast as his CLUNK CLUNK CLUCNK on the stone. He is an Elephant. It’s a wonder the stones don’t crack under his weight. I reach a landing and know that he has also reached one, but one behind me. Very slow, so slow, too slow. I take off again. Need to keep him on his toes. Speaking of toes, where ever mine touch the garden returns to spring, prepare for when the demon is gone.

"Take this," he said as he held out a ball of pure, pale, green light.

"What is it Lord?" I asked, taking it in my hands. When it touched me I could suddenly hear birds singing, could smell flowers and new leaves. I could feel Spring in the air, like it was about to rain, but it was letting you enjoy a last few minutes before it shook loose the clouds like blankets and the drops hit the earth like the finest of jewels.

"It is Life" he said and with that it absorbed into my body and he did not say another word.

So the Life is inside me. So I can give the garden life. So I can be the Sun, even if it is just for a short while, even if it just for this garden. Yes I can do that Lord. I can do what you ask. I will do as you say. I shall be the Sun of this garden and I will give it life.

The demon does not notice the Life. He does not notice the Sun, shedding its light on this God-forsaken garden for the first time since its creation. He just sees me, me and my wagging tail. He does not see, can not see, will not see the sheet of ice on the steps, the ice I fly over. He does not see it, but he feels it as his foot lands on it, slips on it. His eyes shrink, his skin pales, his arms flail. But it does not save him.

Falling, Falling, Falling.

He screams and he shrieks, a cry that would send mortal men to an early grave. But it doesn’t effect me. I can see right through him.

Falling, Falling, Falling.

The garden suddenly enhances, no, bursts into bright, bright color. Intense colors, celebrating the fall of the tyrant.

Falling, Falling, Falling

Help me rid the world of him, he said.

Yes Lord, I said.

Falling, Falling, Falling.

He looks scared, almost. He knows he’s lost. He knows he lost to me and to the Lord. He’s lost.

Falling, Falling…

SPLAT

Fallen.

Slowly the color of the garden fades, but willingly, knowing it will truly live next spring. As the flowers pull themselves in, I can also feel a change coming about myself. I can feel the black spot around my eye fade, leaving only pure white fur.

I can’t wait to see my Halo.