The Fallen Angel

I haven't really posted a story here for quite a while, so today I figured I'd quickly write one out. This isn't the type of story I normally write, but it makes a nice change. What d'you think?

(updated to second version)

The Fallen Angel

Sarah opened her eyes, sleep clouding her mind, and stared into her dark room. She had been having funny dreams, ones about people with wings. Angels, that’s what mummy called people with wings. Angels. There had been lots of them, more than she could count, and all of them had been arguing.

She wondered why she had woken from the dream. She had been enjoying the strange experience of watching the people. The angels.

Sarah began to drift back off to sleep, her mind fuzzing over and going numb. A groan, distinct in the near silence of the room, sobered her into wakefulness. She opened her eyes, but made no other move - she just laid still and listened, waiting to see if the noise repeated itself. It did.

‘Who’s there?’ she asked, not in the least bit afraid. She was never afraid in her bedroom, and especially not in her bed. It was a safe place where no monsters or bad things could get her.

She was replied with only another groan. Sarah sat up, pulling her covers from herself, and peered curiously over the edge, down at the floor. There was a man lying there.

‘Hello,’ Sarah said, ‘who are you?’

The man opened his eyes and looked dead at her. Sarah couldn’t make out his features in the darkness, but could see that he must be in pain by the way he clutched at his stomach. Concern and pity washed over her.

‘Wait here, I’ll go get mummy. She can phone for an ambulance for you, and they’ll make you all better.’

‘No. Please... don’t,’ the man whispered.

‘But you’re hurt.’ Sarah couldn’t understand why the man didn’t want help. ‘Doctors can make you feel better.’

The man shook his head. With a little frown, Sarah crawled out of her bed, and gently walked across her bedroom. She flipped the light switch and the room was instantly illuminated. The light hurt Sarah’s eyes, so she screwed them up for a moment until the brightness no longer stung. When she could, Sarah looked back down at the man, and gasped.

He had wings.

‘Are you an angel?’ she asked breathlessly.

The man silently nodded. Wow - a real angel, there in her bedroom!

Now there was proper light to see by, Sarah saw that the man had bronze skin, a long mane of dark hair and was garbed simply in a white robe. But his most striking feature was the two large wings protruding from his back. They lay limply on the floor and at an odd angle. Although the feathers were white, they were stained a dark red in places.

Sarah ran over to the angel and knelt by his side. She saw blood leaking from between his fingers, which were clutching at his stomach.

‘Will you be okay?’ she said, concerned by the large quantity of blood that was escaping from his body. The blood was seeping onto the carpet and drying there. She knew blood was bad - whenever she cut herself she would cry, both from the pain and the psychological shock of it.

‘My bag,’ the angel said. His voice was quiet and Sarah could only just hear it.

Lying next to him was indeed a bag. It was a simple design, a large piece of black material folded over, stitched on two sides and with two cords coming out of it to pull it shut. It looked like a large pouch. Sarah picked it up and enjoyed the feel of its silky texture.

‘There’s a… a pot of ointment in there… You’ll have to… apply it to my wound...’

Sarah peered into the bag. There wasn’t much in there - something that looked like an elaborate compass, a scroll and a small vial. Sarah pulled out the vial and showed it to the angel. ‘Is this it?’

He nodded. ‘You have to… to pour it onto my injury.’

Sarah pulled the top off the vial; a sweet smell escaped from it that made her momentarily dizzy.

‘You have to move your hands,’ she said. She couldn’t get to the wound with him grabbing at it with his bloodstained fists.

The angel sighed and closed his eyes. Blood continued to bubble from the gaping hole in his stomach and Sarah looked at it in alarm. She didn’t want the angel to be hurt, but wasn’t sure if the medicine in the bottle would really help him as he said it would. After a seconds pause, she tipped the contents of the vial onto the wound. The light blue liquid landed on the bloody and torn stomach, and began to fizz violently. The angel gritted his teeth.

‘Oh oh! I don’t think it’s working!’ Sarah cried, terrified.

But after a few more seconds, Sarah noticed that the wound began to close up and mend. It took a while, but eventually the injury was completely healed. The angel’s features relaxed. Sarah calmed, safe in the knowledge that he was going to be alright.

‘I thank you little girl,’ the angel said. Now, without any pain to cloud it, Sarah could hear the lightly lyrical tones of his voice.

Sarah smiled at him. ‘That’s okay mister angel.’

‘Please, my name is Asael.’

Sarah had never heard of anyone with a name like that. ‘That’s a funny name.’ She held out her hand. ‘My name’s Sarah Parkins.’

The angel smiled and shook her little hand. ‘Where I come from, Sarah would be considered an oddity of a name.’

‘Where do you come from? Heaven?’

A pained expression passed across the angel’s face. ‘In times past, yes.’

Heaven - mummy had said that was where the good people went. The angel had came from there, so he must be very good and nice and kind. ‘But why don’t you live there anymore?’ After all, it meant to be the nicest place anywhere in the Universe, so Sarah couldn’t understand why he would want to leave.

‘There was… a war. And my side lost. As we knew we would.’

‘If you knew you were going to lose, why did you even fight?’

Asael shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wonder myself. But it was something we felt we had to do.’

‘Well,’ Sarah said, ‘my mummy says war is bad.’

‘Indeed it is little one. And it is a folly that man and angel and god alike still fails to recognise.’

Sarah jumped as someone knocked lightly on her bedroom door. ‘Sarah? Are you talking to yourself?’ her mummy’s voice wafted through the woodwork of her door.

‘No mummy,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m talking to Asael.’

Her mummy opened the door and peered in, squinting slightly from the bright light. ‘Who?’

‘The an-’ Sarah began to say, but as she turned round to look back at Asael, she saw he was gone. Even his blood, that had before stained and spoiled her carpet, had vanished. There was no sign at all that he had visited her.

‘It was a dream, dear,’ mummy said wearily. ‘Go back to bed.’

‘But-’ Sarah started, but stopped. One look at her mother’s face told her that she wasn’t going to convince her. With an unhappy sigh, she climbed back into bed and pulled the duvet around herself.

‘Night night dear,’ her mother yawned, and flipped off the bedroom light.

‘Night night mother.’

A month later…

‘Nyah nyah, little silly little Sarah!’

‘Give me back my bag!’ Sarah cried, grabbing for it. The boys weren’t much bigger than her, but she was all alone, isolated, in a corner of the playground. None of the teachers seemed to have noticed what was going on.

The boy threw her bag over her head, and another caught it easily.

Sarah liked playing piggy in the middle - it was a fun game, but only when the people she was playing with were nice. The boys were being mean and she didn’t like it.

A blinding white flash erupted in front of her eyes. Sarah automatically clamped her hands over her face, shielding her eyes. Silence.

And then she heard crying. She opened her eyes to find the four boys all on the ground, a few feet backwards from where they had been standing. They were all crying, their arms and legs all cut and bleeding.

A year later…

‘Mummy, I don’t feel well,’ Sarah said. She didn’t really feel sick, but she didn’t want to go to school. She didn’t know why - she liked school, it was fun. No one was mean to her any more and the teachers were all nice.

‘Oh dear. Where do you feel bad, sweetheart?’

‘I feel like I’m going to be sick,’ she said, not completely sure why she was lying.

‘I’ll get you some medicine, that’ll make you feel better.’

‘Thank you, mummy.’

‘But you’re not lying, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, I believe you.’ Mummy smiled. ‘I’ll phone up my work and tell them I’m staying home to look after you, okay?’

The day was painfully dull, sitting in bed all day with nothing to do. She turned on the television, but there was only grown up shows, no cartoons. In the end, she watched Cinderella for the hundredth time on the video machine in her room.

Shortly after Cinderella had finished playing, Sarah heard her mummy outside in the landing. ‘Oh god, are you joking?’ Mummy’s voice sounded weak and scared. ‘No no, I stayed at home to look after Sarah today - she’s ill. Do they know what happened?’ A pause. ‘Really? I can’t believe it. Those poor people… did anyone survive?’ Another pause. ‘My god… yes, yes it’s so lucky Sarah was ill today. I’d have been on that train otherwise.’

Three years later…

‘Hey little girl,’ the man said from within his car. He smiled at Sarah. He looked friendly. ‘Your mummy said she couldn’t pick you up today, so she sent me instead.’

Sarah peered at him closely, but didn’t recognise him. She had been told not to get into cars with strangers. In school she had been warned about the bad people who liked stealing children - maybe he was one of them?

‘I’m ten - I can walk home.’

‘Ten, eh? All grown up then. But it’s going to rain today, and your mummy said she didn’t want you getting all wet and cold. Come on, get in the car.’

‘No,’ Sarah said defiantly. ‘You’re a bad man.’

The man laughed. It was a pleasant noise. ‘Did your mummy say that? No, I’m not a bad man. Do I look like a bad man?’

‘Well, no…’ Sarah felt her resolve weaken. Maybe he really wasn’t a bad man at all, and really was a friend of her mummy’s?

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She glanced behind her, taking her gaze away from her mummy’s friend and his black car. There was no one behind her - the entire street was empty. Confused, Sarah turned her attention back to the man, to ask him if he had seen anyone.

He was asleep, slumped back in his chair, face turned away from her.

‘Hello?’ Sarah said. ‘Mister? Wake up.’

He remained perfectly still. She reached forwards, through the open car window, and shook him lightly. He didn’t respond.

‘What’s going on here?’ a voice barked from behind. Sarah jumped. A woman was marching over, older than her mummy. ‘What are you doing with that little- oh my!’

‘He’s fallen asleep,’ Sarah explained.

The woman ran forwards, ignoring Sarah, and examined the man through the open window. Sarah couldn’t see what she was doing - the woman’s body was obscuring her view.

‘Little girl… what’s your name?’ the woman asked, turning from the car.

‘Sarah.’

‘Sarah, that’s a nice name. I’m Beth - I’m a nurse.’

‘Nice to meet you Beth,’ Sarah said, remembering to be polite. She studied the woman - she didn’t look like a nurse.

‘Sarah, do you know your phone number and address?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, I’m going to call the police, and you’ll have to tell them those things and what happened here.’

The police? Sarah liked them, but had never spoken with a policeman before. She wondered what they would be like. Maybe like they were on the television. There was a nurse there, and a policeman was coming - it was just like one of her cartoons.

The woman pulled out a mobile and tapped at the buttons. Sarah stood silently watching the nurse hold the phone up to her ear.

‘Hello, yes, emergency service? I would like to report a death.’

Thirteen years later…

Sarah opened her eyes and blinked foolishly in the darkness. She felt slightly alarmed, yet couldn’t work out why. A few moments of consideration, she began to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a rather unusual one. She’d been dreaming about a war between angels. She knew the old story - Lucifer’s rebellion. Of course, she didn’t believe in the fairy tale. She was, after all, a very down to earth sort of person.

She turned over in her bed, pulling her covers up into a more comfortable position. It had been an odd dream. It reminded her of one she had had long ago, when she was a little girl. She had dreamt that an angel had visited her in her bedroom. Hah, and she could still even remember the angel’s name - Asael.

She began to sink back into unconsciousness, vague thoughts of dreams and angels and myths whispering weakly in her mind’s ear.

A soft, lyrical voice spoke behind her, waking her, bringing her back into full consciousness from the half-sleep she had been slipping into. ‘Sarah. It is good to see you again. Do you remember me?’