i'd love to know if this one's worth it!
enjoy!
1
The silence of the night is once again short lived as a strong wind came. The branches starts to dance and foliage in the ground starts to rustle as if the wind is conducting a nature’s orchestra to prepare the world of yet another storm.
The night never felt colder. Serafin wished he have not felt it if only he had ended his life moments earlier. Tonight was supposed to be his last and he had wanted to feel peace for so long and this was the perfect time. Instead, Serafin found himself holding the sword not to his chest but to a woman who lay unconscious on the damp ground.
Serafin sharply draw in a deep breath, his spiteful stare remains at the intruder. This is the closest he’d been with a human in decades, he thought, and the only difference this time is he’s the one hovering over them and not the other way around as it usually were the case. He moves his blade closer to her throbbing throat. He didn’t plan of taking two lives but if he has to…
The woman is an outsider and a trespasser and greatly capable of hurting him physically—the bullets in his forearm and in his wings are a proof of that.
He doesn’t know who she is or how she had come to know about his existence but Serafin is sure of one thing; she’s here to kill him. He grimaced then he chuckled menacingly like that of a mad man. “So I’m not even allowed to take my life?” he said between gritted teeth as his ominous eyes began to show once more. Does he have to let this humans do everything? He barely made use of his pathetic life and choosing to end it is supposed to be his sole decision.
He looks up at the dark sky. The full moon is the only visible thing he could see. “Why?” He asks helplessly, hoping God would answer him this time. The air whistles, leaves rustles before the familiar silence envelops the whole surroundings. No answer, he thought, not really a surprising discovery. The sound of a bell being pulled erupted, snatching Serafin’s attention.
“Midnight”, he whispers, his pitch black eyes softens as he looks up at the dancing bell that was on one of the church towers. It’s clanging sound sooths his ear for he’s so used of hearing it. He looks at the left tower where the other broken bell hangs and where he lived. He felt disappointment rising to his body when he thought he’s still breathing.
The church is centuries years old and the place it was built in is even older. Serafin have stayed in the left tower for decades, he had witnessed the world change and takes its course; he watched different caretakers of the church come and go. The once beautiful church that people had celebrated was forgotten and distorted by time, but its disregard and crumbling tower had given him the roof over his head and its untamed yard, almost like a mini forest around the church protects his existence when he walks outside. The churchyard is the farthest place he’d choose to be. He had seen life outside the rusty gates but did not dare step out again. Time have thought him very well to stay far out from human’s prying eyes, their unpredictability and impulsive nature had almost caused him his life, he smiles at the irony, he had spent long time hiding and protecting himself and yet, now, he’s prepared to take it—“before this damned human showed up that is”, he mutters.
His physical appearance somewhat retorts and provoked the human beings. He understand that anything beyond human perception is doomed to die and that everything who doesn’t looked like them are considered monsters and a threat to their society and they have a funny way of getting this message to him, if it isn’t through dozen of pitchforks, its through torches, bows and arrows and now, he angrily stare at the two guns lying in a distance from them, “this! Wretched machines!” It was fast, loud and deadly and it is only when he bled that he knew he’d been hit.
But still, he chose not to give up. He waited as time pass by when the humans gone tired of chasing him that he will be accepted and for them to know that he’s not to be feared and that he’s also like them, except ofcourse for his unearthly wings, its huge dark wings that when spread across his back will surely give a majestic view, his black eyes that appears when he felt he’s in grave danger and in defensive state and the fact that he can live longer than they do. So he’s not human, still, this are the reasons that have defied him as monster without even hearing his own side and humans not letting him prove his worth.
Once after a long time of hiding, he tried to communicate with the people but that didn’t worked very well, right then and there he realized he will never be accepted. Ever since, the confines of the church—which he had found fortunately one night while escaping a group of angry mob—had been his forever sanctuary and never left it again. Instead he became more defensive of his new found territory, it was indeed a place for him for no one ever come to the tower, it was the least taken care of place of the entire church. He had learned to preserve the place, protecting it from any potential harm that may befall on it and done a successful job at that.
Living inside the church has taught him of things he didn’t know. He eavesdropped through cracked walls for any chance he can get, his ears plastered against the cold stonewalls and sometimes through thin wooden walls. The bible has spoken of man’s sins and their defiled souls, they are of sinful nature since the time and their attitudes towards murder made sense to him at one point. oftentimes, he also sneaks to the main hall at night and in the process; he discovered dozens of differently stone- carved statues of saints, the once good humans; Jesus, the son of the Lord who resembled a human’s physicality perfectly, and the thought of God’s giving his only divine son to save them had left a stinging pain in his chest, it was clear to him that God is in total favor for humans. And the one that almost lift his spirit up was the statues that surrounds the son of the Lord—the Angels. Their wings and their human- like features resembled him but the belongingness he felt was short lived when he learned that they have no real comparison with him. There wings were white, his are black; they are holy spirits guised as humans, he is neither one; they are beings of purpose, he has none; and humans have shown their adoration for them and he felt their anger at him. He’s no angel. If he is anything, he said to himself, he’s a mistake—an error to God’s creation and him being alone and no one else like him justify that. He sympathize with the humans that have chased him consistently, “no wonder…” he said softly, “I do not belong in their world.”
The clergyman in the church had often talked about Lord’s plan to all his creation; that even the smallest creature is created for a role and for a purpose. And that everything that has happened in the world, good or worst is for a reason.
“The Lord indeed works in very mysterious ways”, he heard him say and this were the words that the man constantly add at the end of his every speech, and for a long time, Serafin had listened until one afternoon the words was never told again. He didn’t know why the people stopped going to the church; first, they were in immensely large crowd then descend to smaller groups, and in a couple until there was none. The sanctuary fell in silence, the sound of the bell was the only reminder of the days, and few clergies had left the place until there was only one of them. Still, Serafin was glad that someone chose to stay, he didn’t want to see the place that have sheltered him for so long to go to waste, though the total abandonment of the place posed a great favor to him.
