Angel Wings

Chapter 1: The Beginning

I walked silently into the (mostly) abandoned warehouse I lived in. Or what used to be a warehouse, anyway.


You see, the owners had converted it from a one-story warehouse into a two-story studio. They had meant it to be a recording studio, but it wasn't very popular with the singer/songwriter crowd they wanted to attract. It was damp, had terrible acoustics, and was right next to the river, where people vacationed in the summer, fishing and boating, and sometimes water-skiing (Yeah, I know. Who actually water-skis?). The studio also had a reputation for being haunted by a horrible demon.


This demon supposedly has bat-like wings and a thick reptilian tale. It has two-inch-long fangs and yellow eyes with cat-like, slit pupils. It has wild, long, tangled hair, full of lice, fleas, and ticks (Funny. You'd think it would have more supernatural pests living all over it). It looks like it never takes a bath, and it wears dirty clothes as full of insects as its hair.


It even has a whole legend to go with it. Want to hear it? Come on, it'll be fun! I'll even use my spooky voice.


On a dark, stormy night, three young men broke into the warehouse (Isn't this real original?). They broke in to perform their horrid satanic rites, rites that would open a passageway for Satan's soldiers to come through. They cast their circle, calling forth demons to guard them, so they call forth a new demon to their ranks. This demon was strong, it would be strong enough to protect these boys from the harm and teasing they faced at school (This part was added from some poet at the local high school, a real sensitive girl). They wanted to set it against their tormentors. So they called this vile thing forth, and bound it to themselves. The next day at school, the freed it in gym class (Real classic, isn't it?) The evil entity wreaked havoc, shredding the plastic bleachers like they were made of paper, breaking the toilets in the men's locker room, tearing away the sinks and bursting the pipes, creating a weird set of fountains...


And I think we know how this ends: the town's people grabbed their pitchforks and torches and chased the demon (and it's summoners) into the warehouse, where they promptly set fire to the building (It didn't burn down completely), and asked a priest to bless the land and seal the gateway shut. But demons don't die in normal fires like this one, so it was trapped here, in this world (Don't worry, the priest sealed it to the building...or so the story goes). And so, the story ends. So who would want to live here?


I find that very insulting.


For one thing, I'm not a demon. For another, I'm not dirty, I don't wear clothes more than once before they have to be washed (Twice, in an emergency. What? I'm a bachelor, sometimes I forget to do the laundry), I don't have long hair (My hair's short and curly, thank you very much), yellow eyes, or in any other way fit that description!


But why should this matter to me, anyway?


Because, whether they know it or not, they are talking about me. Yes, me. And you know how it all started? Some stupid high school nobodies who wanted some attention. What was wrong with them? I'll explain.


First thing you should know, is that this legend isn't actually all that old, however old it sounds. It started when I moved into the studio five years ago. Second thing you should know, and this will explain a few things later, is that for a while, I was on the run from the government. And no, I didn't commit any major crimes that would require me to serve a sentence in some maximum-security-whatever.


But on with the story. I had turned up in this charming, God-fearing little town five years ago. I was a mess; my hair was a little bit tangled, and since I had traveled the last ten miles on foot, I was a little...dusty. But I had a little money, and since the owner of the studio couldn't find anyone else, he let me rent his studio for two hundred and fifty dollars--a little less than half of the money I had with me at the time. I remember thinking, Wow, that's really, really cheap (I really, really did). And I soon found out why.


A few months before, some stupid kids had decided to play a trick on the owner. Every night for a month, they placed candles in all the windows and lit them, and then left them there the whole night. And for a month, this went fine; the owner couldn't catch them, but the candles never got knocked over or caught anything on fire, so to him it was like, Oh, some stupid kids' harmless prank. Then one night, after the kids had gone, somehow one of the candles got knocked over, and since the warehouse was made of wood...


I think you get the picture. About half the building was burned down, and the rest was soaked, causing major water damage. The wood started to rot, and all I can say is, it's a damn good thing the owner had insurance.


They rebuilt and replaced what absolutely needed it (The insurance company did. They acted, not surprisingly, in the interest of themselves and their stockholders). So when I got there, while nothing was rotted or molded, there was a little evidence of that fire still left over. The owner apologized for the damage, and I said it was alright, and life went on. I moved in (I didn't have much to unpack, just some clothes and a few books at the time), set up house, and got a rather pleasant surprise when I found what looked more like a private spa than a normal master bath (The owner had supplemented what the insurance company had done, I guess to try to attract a customer). So, hot and sweaty and completely exhausted, I relaxed in the bath...


I think I should tell you now why I was on the run from the government, and why I still am. You see, I have wings.


And, now that I think about it, I guess I lied earlier, when I said that I in no way match the description of the demon. The demon, if you'll remember, had bat-like wings, and while my wings are closer to eagle or hawk, and not bat-like in any sense of the word, I still have wings. My wings are why I run from the government, but I'll explain all that later.


So, as I was saying earlier, I was relaxing in the bath. I guess someone heard I had moved in and came to investigate, because while my wings were splayed out (A friend of mine saw that once. He called it the funniest thing he'd ever seen) I heard someone at the door.


When I say that, I don't mean I heard someone knocking on my door kind of someone at the door. I heard kids whispering, and more than a few giggles. I stood, stretching, wondering if they were going to actually come to the door. I debated for a moment, wondering if I should startle them by opening the door myself, but decided not to. I slipped on a towel, wondering if they were here for any particular reason, or if their natural apprehension at my presence made them curious. In a moment, I found myself glad of my decision to put a towel on, even if it didn't cover my wings; they decided to break the door down.


That startled me. My wings puffed up, fluffing out feathers the colors of a sunset. Suddenly, I didn't know what to expect from them. I had thought they wanted a quick look at their new neighbor, not to bust in to harass me.


So there I stood, the setting sun in my face, but not blinding me so much that I couldn't see that the group was made entirely of high school students. Three guys, two girls. Like I said, I was glad I had a towel on. That would've been majorly embarrassing, not to mention I could've been stuck with five sexual assault charges...


I braced myself for trouble. If this is what they had planned, surely they had brought some sort of weapon. In my admittedly limited experience with harassment like this, they brought weapons, at least one, usually a knife. So I readied myself to run back to my room and lock the door until I could get dressed (I planned to fight after that).


But they just sat there, staring, their mouths hanging open.


That ticked me off a little. Usually at this point, they were running screaming away. Then I could complain to their parents, who would think their kids were high when they claimed I had wings. Then my life could go on as normally as possible: I would find a job until the government found me again, and then it would be back to running. No time to make friends, no need for them, and certainly no way I could trust them.


Despite what one might think, it's not a bad life. I'm hardly ever lonely. Really.


But back to the story. They were staring (rather rudely), with no sign of stopping anytime soon. My feathers smoothed out, once the immediate threat had obviously passed. And then I decided to make the first move.


"Planning on swallowing flies?" I asked waspishly, acting as if everyone else had wings and they were the only ones who didn't.That broke the spell.


One of the girls shrieked. "It talks!" she yelped--as if she expected me to start chirping like a bird.


I did my best to look as insulted as I felt. It wasn't all that hard. "What did you expect?" I asked irritably. Then, to their complete astonishment, I lifted up the broken door and shoved it back in place. Good thing, too; my towel was starting to slip. After that, I had shoved the couch in front of the door (It came with the place), got dressed, and went to bed.


By the next morning, the rumors were circulating; a horrid demon, with big, bat-like wings...


You know the rest.


Do you see now why I find that legend so damn insulting?


At one point, they did start to claim that they were "attacked" by me, but let's put it this way: I kept my wings covered, I took good care of myself, and my front door said otherwise.


The police chief asked if I wanted to press charges, but I said no; I didn't want to attract the government's attention. As for the parents, well, they were extremely grateful that I didn't and grounded their kids for three months, with no chance of getting off early. No joke.


And so, I made a few enemies within the first two days of being in town, and the legend of the studio demon began.


I guess this is the point where I say, "And I lived happily ever after." Sorry to disappoint you, but my story's not over yet.