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Rated: E · Short Story · Spiritual · #1179427
IN PROGRESS! A guardian angel falls for his mortal charge.
Part One - Angel Lore

Rolling clouds passed over the magenta sky. Cloaked was the realm beyond the bounds of Earth. Pyres and towers rose above the stars, unmarred by the pollutants and horrors of the world below.

He was bathed in ethereal light, as he gazed down upon the occupants of Earth from one of the many turrets belonging to the castle of heaven. He stood as still as stone, unmoved by the heavens, and yet utterly touched by the compassion, love, and pain that was humanity. He had been human, himself, once. But it had been so long ago that he had almost forgotten what it was like to actually be human, experiencing those emotions for himself. He could care for mankind; guide them, love them, even save them from themselves where necessary. But it was set apart from human emotion. The love he felt transcended the highest towers of heaven. This was his gift, and his curse, for he knew that to succumb to human love, human passion, would bear the greatest penalty of all.

The knowledge of what he could not forget rolled through his mind, as a leaf is carried on a summer breeze. In many ways, being an Angel allowed him to be free from that which weighed the human condition down with suffering, and of course he was fully appreciative of the golden rule posed on all Angel-kind, understanding its intent and purpose; but it was also the one thing which bound his heart in chains.

The freedom to feel emotion was among his most coveted desires; the illegitimacy of which prevented him from fulfilling his true potential. He knew this. Knew how easy it would be to cast away his chains by allowing himself to feel his charges pain as they felt it. But he also knew that it would cost him the very thing that was his entire existence.

Such an act was abhorrent among his kind. It wasn’t for an Angel to feel human emotions. Though he was sure it didn’t stop a select few from desiring it, all the same. He had never quite understood this notion of abhorrence. He understood the concept that judgment might tarnished by personal feelings, of course. But he never quite understood why it was so wrong to reach out to a human being in a way that a human could appreciate. Why it was so wrong to heal them from the true depths of his heart?

“I know what you’re thinking, James.” Came a voice from behind him. “You know it could cost you your wings.” The voice went on, in its annoyingly knowing way. Of course he knew this. He didn’t need a fellow Angel to state the obvious. So he didn’t reply to the comment. Simply left it hanging in the air. Eventually, his fellow Angel went on.

“You have a new assignment.” The Angel told James, changing the subject. James didn’t want to face the Angel standing behind him. He didn’t want to offer that satisfaction. He merely continued to gaze upon the Earth from the confines of Heaven’s watch tower. “They suspect your sentiments, you know.” The angel told him, suddenly.

“What’s your point, Jeremiah?” James asked, turning to face his companion at last.

“Just be careful.” Jeremiah told him, with a slight frown. James nodded, stiffly, in return before disappearing, all at once, from view.

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Part Two - New Charge

Elizabeth sat at her desk, staring blankly at the computer screen with unseeing eyes. Unbeknown to her, she was not alone. He stood behind her, unable to be seen by mortal eyes unless he so chose. James watched as Elizabeth moved her hand, mechanically, to open the desk drawer and remove a red leather-bound journal. She placed the journal on the desk before her with such a care and finesse that she might have been cradling a fragile flower. For indeed, this journal contained the secrets of her very soul.

In the blink of an eye, James now stood before the desk. Elizabeth’s eyes were glassed over, a mask for what lay in the depths of her soul. Elizabeth was his charge. He didn’t know her circumstances, or the truths of her heart, but he did know of a well of pain that existed within her. This was the reason he had been sent to her; to help her transcend this well of pain.

James turned to watch as a woman with a harsh demeanour appeared from within one of the offices. Her once pretty face was now marred by the creases of her perpetual frown, and wearing her hair scraped back gave her an unseemly look of severity. The woman approached Elizabeth’s desk, carrying a large pile of papers which she promptly placed in front of her, without a word. Elizabeth sighed as she watched her supervisor head back into the office from whence she had come. Shaking her head at the hefty afternoon that lay before her, she slipped her journal back into the drawer. Evidently, her feelings would have to be put on hold until later.

James saw the defeated look in Elizabeth’s eyes, recognising it with a certain heaviness in his heart. He walked back toward the desk until he was able to stand beside his charge, and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He could not know whether she would detect his presence or not, but he did know that at the very least she would feel the warmth of his touch.

Elizabeth smiled at the sudden warmth that crept over her, emanating, it seemed, from her shoulders. All at once, she felt as though her load had been lightened somewhat, making it easier to bear. Elizabeth wondered, faintly, if this was what it felt like to be cared for, as she descended into thoughts of her heart’s greatest desire: to come home at the end of the day, home to someone who loved her in spite of her flaws, who would wrap their arms around her, and dissipate all her worries with their warmth. Knowing these dreams would have to be out on hold, she once more buried her thoughts in favour of the task before her.

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Part Three - The Dream

As night descended, Elizabeth sank into her bed. And though her body ached with exhaustion, her thoughts continued to whir endlessly on into the night.

Shadows cloaked the room, engulfing all sense of life in an inky blackness. Not even Elizabeth’s cat stirred. The faithful tabby simply continued to slumber at the foot of the bed. Elizabeth watched the rise and fall of the tabby’s chest, as it continued to breathe in the life giving air, lulling Elizabeth with its almost hypnotic rhythm.

Eventually, her eyelids began to flutter, and she fell into a restless sleep as fatigue began to claim her at last...

~~

The sands of time lash at her body and wind whips her hair and face. As she casts her eyes about her, she realises that she is standing in the midst of a desert. It is a desert of perpetual torment, where nothing ever began and nothing ever ended, and not another soul lives or breathes, so long as she is in this place. She is utterly alone with her weeping heart. Images, people, memories, dance before her now. The memories haunt her. They contain so much heartbreak that she falls to her knees, wishing that she could face the Great Maker, to beg for... anything, as long as the pain stopped. But nothing changes the vast loneliness of the sparse desert she is trapped in. And yet, something catches her eye. A glint of light on the horizon. She turns her head in its direction. The light grows brighter and brighter, until she needs to shield her eyes from it, but she can’t look away. For in the midst of the bright golden light is the face of a man, and she has never seen anything more beautiful...

~~

Elizabeth stretched, rising sluggishly from her restive sleep. Raising an arm that felt like lead, she rubbed her eyes and pulled herself into a sitting position, supporting her back against the headboard. The dream lingered on the edge of her consciousness, fading just as quickly as she tried to recall it. It hadn’t been the first time she’d had that dream, but she couldn’t remember ever having seen a face before. What could it mean? Maybe it was foretelling the arrival of something significant. More than likely, though, it was simply the product of her overworked subconscious. Deciding to dismiss it as such, Elizabeth threw back the bedcovers to welcome the onslaught of another day.
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© Copyright 2006 Taralqua (taralqua at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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