Fallen

~ Prologue ~

The day blood was consumed within the howling wind....

The day it rained feathers blacker than any night....

The day she fell from the bloodstained sky....

The day I lost that thing, I once called my soul....

Thinking back to those days, the time that is now just a distant memory, yet sentiment has been ridden, although it was a time cursed with my misery. I never expected such things to happen, well for those matters exist, alas I'm not referring to a change in my cynicism, where I felt as if another could not possibly connect... well not entirely, for there was some growth. The thing I speak of is a woman, but one who had been born in the darkness that haunted every child's nightmares. Her wretched father cast out from heaven, yet she didn't accept him as 'daddy', no she held nothing but hostility to that man, she refused to accept that his actions would define her. I guess for a time her wrath could not be contained, where I was mere collateral for her untamed rage. Back then I believed that she was the same as all the stories, a wicked fallen angel, and for a time I was certain I was right, that she was no different from her father. Maybe it was my falsely placed apathy that blinded me from her, or even my fear of leaving the security only denial could offer. Ironically those midnight wings were what shone bright enough to reveal what my mortal eyes refused to see.

It all begun at the end of a shift, one I dare to never forget, for if I were it would be a disgrace to all that has happened. I often thought only the good memories were worth remembering but that woman taught me much more, that the good, the bad and even the seemingly uneventful parts in life should all be cherished for they all have a role in how we view our world... the one I once resented. As that shift reached its demise it created several scenarios where I believed I'd reach my own, but thinking back to those days I don't regret how it turned out.... for without her I'd still be wallowing in self-pity. It's odd, before that day... before I met her, I didn't care about remembering... or even living for that matter... I just wanted it to end... so I could finally forget.

I had never been to war, nor have I experienced the horrors of a third-world country, yet I was longing the day my feeble life would reach it's miserable demise... quite dark, but I guess I never had much ambition, after I lost the people I held dear... after I lost my family. That pessimism all changed when I met her, the black feathered angel, but transformation isn't instant, no it's the growth of our experiences that force us to change, whether it's something we want or need doesn't matter, for change is as natural as a flower blooming in the spring. I was lucky with my change, for it was something I feel I needed. But that woman I speak so highly of wasn't always my friend... or anything besides a villainous fallen angel who had taken over my life.

It's funny how initial spite towards that woman could grow into something pure, the person I refused to accept as anything but my enemy became someone I held dear. I will not lie, through my story I have made numerous mistakes, and often been a person I despised. On my journey with that woman, I have transformed into the person I am today, whether it was for the best or merely growth of becoming someone people can place their hate on, only time will tell. My tale is a long one, but where do I begin... I guess the day it rained blood.