What if your lost memories were the one thing that could save the world? |
Angels There are memories, faint, passing, whispers of the past, that I have. Faces, names, long ago laughter, long forgotten tears. Like the touch of feathers on my shoulder, the warmth of a smile from a friend, the strong embrace of a lover. Yet they are just memories. From long ago, from the near past. But I cannot ignore them. Because, I do not remember these faces, these voices. The names are familiar, yet I know I have never heard them spoken to me. I have never read them in a book, or anywhere else. They haunt me, like faded ghosts, old, new. Past, Present, Future. I wonder, will I remember them? Will I see them again? Feel their wings on my shoulders, feel the warmth of their smiles, and feel the strong embrace of their love. I must know, I must find out. The names, they call to me like a bell, tolling many miles away, yet carried on the wind. But where do I start? The names? It would seem a good idea, would it not? * * * "Wake up sleepy head!" the pillow smacked into my face, bringing me back to a somewhat violent reality. The dream I had was strange. Yet it faded fast and all I cared for at that moment was to go back to sleep. I pulled the covers over my head and closed my half open eyes. I could hear a movement and the pillow smacked into my head again, with a larger amount of force. It didn't hurt, but it irritated the Hell out of me. I groaned and rolled over onto my back and sat up, rubbing my face, glaring bleary eyed at my rude alarm clock sitting on my bed. He grinned and blew a piece of golden hair from his face. "Gabriel, do you have to wake me up like that?" he nodded and smacked me again, round the head with the pillow. I roared with tired fury, quite awake now, and threw my pillow at him. He squealed and fell off the bed. I smiled, satisfied and collapsed backwards. But with lack of pillow and being smacked three times I knew I wasn't going to go back to sleep. Thoroughly irritated, I dragged myself out of bed. Gabriel had got up now, brushed himself down, pulled his hair out of his face again and was now grinning at me. "Mornin' little sis," he ruffled my hair. I glared up at him, him being a head taller than me. "I'm the same age as you Bri. You're only three hours older," he grinned "But that still makes me older, which makes you younger, which makes you littler. And you're also about a foot smaller than me anyway, so technically you are my 'little' sister," I looked at him. And I mean properly, gawping, looking. It was too early in the morning for that sort of rational thinking. I groaned again, shoved him out the way and made my way to the bathroom. I could hear him snickering behind me. Its okay, I would get him back later. I stumbled into our joint bathroom, took my shower, brushed my teeth and my hair, and then stalked back out into the shared bedroom. I got dressed (dark jeans, pink strappy top and black shirt if you're interested), put on my jewellery and thumped down the stairs bare foot. I went into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, keeping one eye open just to glance at the time. It was way too early for me to be up. Just coming up to half eight. Great. I could hear Gabriel in the kitchen, making as much noise as possible it seemed. I sighed, got off the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Gabriel was at the other side, looking at a pan suspiciously and rubbing his chin. I leaned one arm above me on the door frame, sticking the other in my pocket and smirked at him. "It's a pan. You use it for cooking things in," he jumped, obvious he hadn't heard me come down stairs. "I didn't hear you come down stairs (see?). Well, I am stumped. How do I get scrambled eggs from this?" I shrugged, not really caring as I moved about the kitchen, grabbing a clean bowl from beside the sink, getting cereal from the cupboard under the kitchen island and then getting the milk from the fridge. As I poured the milk into my cereal I looked up. Gabriel had cracked two eggs on the pan and was watching it intently. The pan was on the surface top, no where near a flame. "Gabriel?" "What?" "You do know it's Saturday don't you?" He turned and frowned at me "Yeah, why?" a day old banana skin hit him in the face. I picked up a spoon and spooned some cereal into my mouth. "Jus' checkin'," I said thickly. He peeled the skin off his face and glowered at me, old bits of banana still stuck to his face and in his hair. I smiled brightly at him. "It's your own fault for waking me so early isn't it?" he muttered darkly and threw the skin into the bin and went back to watching his eggs. By the time I had finished breakfast, I was starting to feel slightly sorry for him. Only slightly. I popped my bowl into the sink and went over to him. "You're meant to put them on the hob. Turning the hob on first," "Oh, really?" he looked surprised. Honest to God he did. I ask you, men! So I did it for him, and he stood there and watched them boil. And sizzle. And burn. I sighed and took them off the stove, shovelled them onto a plate and had a go at them with a fork, mashing them up, then handed him the plate. He looked at me blankly. "Not scrambled eggs, but it'll be the same," he took up the fork and shovelled a whole load into his mouth. He chewed, looking like he was thinking (scary) and then his face split into a huge grin. "It's good!" I shook my head and sighed. "How can you eat that? It hasn't even got any flavouring in it," I pulled a face as he chewed happily. The door bell went and I frowned. "Now who would be calling this early?" Gabriel shrugged and shovelled another forkful into his mouth. I rolled my eyes and went out into the hallway. There was a semi-transparent pane in the front door and through it I could see a wash of red hair. I swallowed, my mouth going dry suddenly. I shook my head and calmed myself. It was Michael. Only Michael. I had known him my entire life. "You going to let Michael in or not?" I jumped. Gabriel had left the kitchen and was standing right behind me, with out me hearing. I scowled at him. "Yes," I stalked to the door and tore it open, still scowling, "What?" I said shortly. Michael grinned down at me. "Hallo Azrael. See you're still not a morning person," I scowled harder and turned to Gabriel. "Michael's here," with that a stomped out to the kitchen and outside into the garden, to the Den. I threw myself onto the sofa there and looked up to the ceiling. I had known Michael since we were very young. He was Gabriel's best friend. So why was I so nervous when ever I saw him? I frowned and snorted. Surely I didn't fancy him? It was Michael after all. I leant forward and put my head in my hands. God, I did fancy him. Great. I yawned and stretched, rubbing my face and running my fingers through my golden hair. I looked round the Den and found my bag and my shoes. Pulling them on I went back into the garden and round through the side path. I could hear Gabriel and Michael talking and laughing. I half caught myself smiling when I heard Michael laugh, imagining his happy face. Shaking my head again, I walked up the path through our front lawn, opened the front gate and went out onto the main pavement. There were a few elders about at this time, but not many. I looked to the north, seeing the soaring buildings of the Industry District, the elegant spires of the Mayors Palace to the east and the clock tower in the Theatre District to the west. Here, in the Business District, the houses were smallish detached buildings, with a small front lawn and a sizable back garden. Our house was two bedrooms, though we shared one, so the other was the guest/sleep over room. There were houses that had four bedrooms, but they got no bigger than that. The posh houses were in the Theatre District. I knew, from memory, that behind the Industrial District, the Old Town stood; a section full of crumbling buildings and cobbled streets. I and my friends loved it there. The elders rarely went there. Surrounding the entire city was the Wall of Light, a huge wall that was visible everywhere, including in the Industrial District. It was that big. I walked towards the nearest bus stop, planning on going to the park in the Palace District. |