Three Feathers Fall a Heart

Courtesy of Deviant Art

It was the disconsolate songs of the children that called to him. Sorrowful, tender songs released from small lacrimal glands of children shedding tears of pain and cries of confusion. Those in his world called him the Angel of Mercy, one of many who went to guide the young from their world onto the next. He tendered to that particular group that was the hardest of all: babies and young children whose unfortunate time had come because of hunger, disease or violence.

Most angels stood by their assigned humans for decades, rescuing, caring and shielding them from dangers in life. Others, like him, were called to duties not for the faint of heart because it required much of them; their assignments - penances for former lives reprehensibly led. He had not been a decent human being in life. He caused much sorrow and pain. He was amoral and indifferent, never feeling the basic human emotions of remorse or compassion. He killed. Three to be exact. Yet, the Fates felt he could be rehabilitated; his life and crimes, a result of his twin evil pair - Nature and Nurture. They saw a glimmer of hope and light in the dark spirit that covered him. An eternity in Hades would only aide in vanishing it completely.

He died in a bar room brawl. Apropos, considering his life. At the Pearly Gates, he did not expect to be granted entrance from St. Peter. Even he knew the things he had done were unforgivable. He never felt the power of goodness and love reside within the palpating chambers of his heart. The day they sliced his throat ending his violent life, an evil, dark sludge seeped sinisterly out of his veins revealing the horrors of mankind. This was who he was and death had finally freed him.

Or, so he thought. Instead, St. Peter did not reject him, but he did not grant him entrance either. He was given temporary wings and given an assignment that would take much of him for centuries to come. But it was also the one that in time would save him. There were no shortcuts in this eternal life - another thing stripped and discarded of his former self, along with the pervading inhumanity of his soul. He humbly accepted his penance, in awe of the loving Spirit that saw a light of goodness in him and fought to keep his soul against the Devil that wanted to claim it as his own.

Since then he had seen it all and held them all, absorbing each child's physical and emotional pains and easing their transit into the afterlife. In the lush beautiful Eden called Earth, their agonizing wails seemed inappropriate in the natural order of things, sounded inappropriate in the silent stillness of the night. They should have been healthy and happy, gleefully enjoying life, not dying of starvation or crying in pain at the hands and ideologies of another or inflicted with diseases not yet meant for some so new to life. His heart shattered repeatedly at the injustices seen but his assignment was not to question; his assignment was to bring them home. He had been a ruthless and mean bastard in life; however, this penance given in this ethereal life moved him beyond understanding. It was as if each child was his own and, at the same time, he was each child, thereby affecting and opening an unwilling heart, releasing gushing crimson streams of tears and pain, staining his white, virgin wings. He cried in agony and pain along with the innocent fallen. For centuries his heart ached anew with each passing. Desensitization was an emotion unknown in this world. That was the Devil's emotion - the very one that had seeped into his veins, blotting his humanity and making him feared and hated by those that once tried to love him.

But in this life, it was the wounded cry of the young that called to him. He flew to their side in those final moments bathing them in his devoted glow of peace and unconditional love letting them know they were not alone. They were loved and they would no longer feel pain. With their suffering now ended, a new, eternal, peaceful life awaited them.

And before each Heaven-bound journey with the newly-borne angels, three feathers - one for each of the lives he took - were left behind on the Earthly tombstone where his body now lay. Plucked from the wings that gave him life, a reminder that they were always in his thoughts. And that in time, forgiveness for himself would eventually find its way into his heart. Until then, he would roam the world guiding the fallen young into the afterlife. Until then, three more feathers fallen from a heart filled with remorse and pain, but not yet forgiven.

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An old one that happens to be one of my favorites. For some reason, the creative well seems to be dry lately. Hopefully, it will lift soon.