the angelic report

The night life of a city has many twists and turns to it that make it damn near impossible to know everything about it. Dancers and musicians uncurl from there ratty beds and cozy apartments to make their pay to live in their little rat holes they call home. The concrete that thumps on my feet was a path I walked every night as I simply watched those that pass by in a rushing mass like ants to their work. Sometimes I wonder if people have lost all manner of meaning of the things that gave there species life in the first place.

         With the turning of a corner I behold the sight of prostitutes selling there selves to pay for their rent. And there next fix. Great soldiers and men of honor who were once this nations greatest hero’s, are now reduced to begging in ragged clothes hoping to get another bottle to drown there self into remembering there good days. Also to numb there current anguish. The smooth and hearty tones of a jazz saxophone came to me on the lulling winds around me.

         Neon sputtered as I came upon the musician who made such emotional sounds. He was a man of medium height and Caucasian skin, his hair a ratty mess of a ponytail the color of gold laced with silver. His suit was cheap and mass produced, spots and stains adorned it a different parts of the suit jacket. I stared into the dark lenses of his sunglasses then nodded to him in recognition. He nodded back to me and then continued to play the slow soothing sounds of the sax.

         I dug the wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and dropped a couple twenty’s in to the case at his feet. His sunglasses slid a few inches down his nose, revealing his electric blue eyes as he stared shocked at me. I started to walk away when he stopped me and pressed an ice cold beer into my hand and displayed his gratitude. I waved him off saying it was no problem. I heard him play the sax with a bit more of an upbeat tune.

         I stared down at the label of the beer and saw it was a home-made brew, probably made buy the sax player I just met. Not wanting to insult the man, I pop the top off with a twist of the wrist hearing the air escape in a satisfied sigh. I took my first swig as I crossed the street to continue my walk. It was positively amazing with the taste of the home-made stout. The flavor reminded me of the sweet tasting of nectar made from apples from the garden of Eden.

         But this small form of heaven  was short lived as the beer ran empty and the bottle tossed into the trash. Although I did keep the label to keep so I knew where to find more of that godly drink. Though I was sobered backup when I beheld another sight of the night life. Two men were in an alley way one held a knife to the other as the other man drew his wallet and handed it to the mugger, hoping to avoid a situation.

         I could only watch and observe as I always must even if I thought it was wrong. The mugger left after giving his victim a beating to unconsciousness.  I hefted him up and gave him to some passerby telling them to help him, then left without another word. Again I question if giving mortals the ability free will at times. Well some of them I wonder about. But that isn’t my place to say. After all I’m not human. On that note I ducked into the nearby alley way and unfurled my graceful wings. With a great rush of air I acceded back to the heavens to make my report.