Hell's Angel

Preface

        Blood; the thick red liquid was everywhere. It happened to be the first thing I noticed. It was on my hands, under my nails, on my dress, it was in my hair even. It soaked the field below me, obscuring the sight of the bright green with a burnt crimson color. The air smelt of copper and steel; the wind carried the smell of blood and death to me and past me. There was so much blood, so much death around me, yet, I remained rooted to my spot at the top of the tallest hill in the field, overlooking the crimson field filled with the bodies of the fallen.

Silence greeted me next. The air, once filled with the ringing sounds of steel against steel, now was filled with a ghostly silence. There was no life it seemed; not a bird singing, not a hare moving, not even the flies would dare approach this scene of despair. Where the world had once been full of life and sounds was now only filled with an eerie silence. Not even the wind made a whisper; though swirling around me at a lazy pace, it, too, was silent. 

Glancing around, I tried to step forward, my brown riding boot sinking into the blood-soaked ground. They were once brown, I noticed, but were now a dark crimson. Luckily, the boots held their own and my feet were not soaked from the once life-giving liquid that covered my boots. My dress only reached to my knees and was clinging to every available part of my body; it’s hard to move around in a blood-soaked dress apparently. What a pity, it was white, I mused to myself as I slowly walk down the hill, my boots making squishy sounds as I go along. 

        I picked my way carefully along; even along the hill, steel-clad bodies littered the floor. I tried to look at some of their faces, to see if I recognized any of them. However, all I could see were steel helmets covering most of their faces and, on those that had no helmets, their faces were blurry, almost as if my eyes refused to get them into focus. I wondered if maybe it was some form of defensive mechanism that my mind created, to maybe stop my eyes from seeing their faces so I wouldn’t have nightmares about them. I did notice, however, there was a faint glow around them, a very pale golden light surrounded them. As I watched, many of the faint glows flickered, trying to continue on, but, they were suddenly snuffed out. Shaking my head, trying to dispel the imagery that I was witnessing, I pressed onward.

        I stepped over so many fallen that I lost count and I focused on getting to the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t that tall of a hill, just big enough to see over the field but small enough that I wouldn’t roll down endlessly if I tripped…which was a great possibility knowing me. After tripping several times and almost face-planting into the ground, I finally made it to the bottom. Looking around, I wasn’t even sure why I bothered coming down; it wasn’t much different from the scene on the hill. Bodies were everywhere, the air stank of gore and death, and it was still as silent as ever. Yet, I wasn’t afraid of the scene before me; in fact, I was a bit intrigued. 

        I looked around the area with new eyes, trying to see past the death and crimson and it was at that point that I saw the tree. Smack dab in the middle of the field, the tree, a weeping willow by the looks of it, was gently blowing in the breeze, its’ green branches and leaves the only things untouched by the whatever massacre had taken place here. I felt compelled to go to this tree; it was like there was a soft whisper in the back of my mind telling me to go to the tree. Before I even registered it, my feet began to move of their accord and I started slowly towards the tree, its’ leaves beckoning towards me. 

I slowly moved, ignoring the many bodies that I stepped over and I never gave them a second thought. My feet continued to sink into the ground but, I pressed forward, my body determined to get to the tree. It was like I had lost control of myself, I couldn’t even think straight at this point, not that I could before. The tree continued to call to me, I could hear its’ soft whispers in my mind, telling me I was safe. I quickened my pace, losing all thought process except repeating over and over in my mind, “the tree, the tree is safe”. 

        It took me a full ten minutes to reach the tree and I wasn’t breathing hard. In fact, it felt like I hadn’t just walked across a blood-soaked field covered in bodies, it felt like an easy walk in the park or a stroll through the neighborhood. The tree offered me solace and nothing else seemed to matter; not the grisly sights, not bodies, not even the silence. I slowly walked to the tree, the branches softly caressing every inch of exposed skin. It was then I finally felt the eyes watching me.

        I could feel them, burning into the back of my skull, and I slowly turned around to face them. Yet, no one was there; I could feel the eyes but could not see the owner. I observed the area, scanning over every square inch of the field with my eyes and, as I looked, I felt the eyes examine me. They moved from my face, trailed slowly downward my body and trailed even slower back to my face. Everywhere they trailed, it left a hot feeling on my body as if I was being lit on fire. Then, I heard it, the soft fluttering noise behind me and, as I turned around, I saw him.

        He lightly touched the ground, his black wings slowly closing back into his body and disappearing. He was dressed in all black and only wore a pair of tan sandals on his feet. His six foot four body was quite perfect but that wasn’t what caught my attention. His eyes were as black as obsidian but were flecked with silver. They looked like the midnight sky covered in stars; they were absolutely memorizing. He smiled, a crooked little smirk with shiny, pearl teeth, and extended a perfectly tanned hand to me. When he finally spoke, it was like listening to rough silk, an ironic combination yet it was completely on point.

        “My Queen, Hell and all its’ glory awaits you.”

        And then, I woke up.