Solitude Grace

Solitude Grace (edited)

"So it will be at the end of the age; the angels will come forth and take out the wicked from among the righteous." - Matthew 13:49

His chiselled features were put on show as the moonlit night graced over his all too pale face, a slight glow reflecting on him as he sat upon the hill gazing, down at the small town below him. 

His hatred coloured his soul black as his gaze remained on the town. This whole world he despised and its inhabitance made him sick. 

But still, he sat upon the hill, watching over the vulnerable town, smiling a smile so sinister it made the devil himself seem like a dream and not like him, the nightmare.

His dagger pulsed in his hand while his midnight wings encircled his body, numbing everything around him until sleep welcomed him, along with the dreams he yearned for.

Sleep didn't keep him for long however, he soon awoke to the bright sun dancing against the horizon, reflecting off the windows in the small town surrounded by hills below him. He squinted his eyes, trying so hard to adjust to the gleam of the sunlight, somewhat burning his eyes.

He groaned in frustration. To be banished to this wretched place had him angered. He did not deny that he deserved it, he simply could not find anything special about this place.

Many of his kind have said it to be a miraculous place filled with wonder and colour. He had seen the colour but what good was it when he could not share it? He could not walk into the town being what he is, he would expose himself and would be locked up, imprisoned and experimented upon.

No, going into town was not an option.

So now he simply sat upon the hill, gazing at what he couldn't have. Hating the smiling faces he could see in the distance, hating their happiness while he had to suffer.

He had never been a hateful creature, he had been pure, untainted, good. Then he was cast down from his peace and banished to live in a world where he had to hide from others in order to protect himself.

He stood up then, stretching his aching legs. He had never felt discomfort or pain in his past life, now he felt it on a daily basis. It frustrated him more and more each day. He knew now that he could sleep upon the hill no longer, he needed to find a place to stay, to rest his throbbing neck.

He also knew that he had been banished for a reason, for speaking his opinion aloud, stating his hatred for humanity and all it brought with it, but still, even now after his duties have been ridden of him, he still looked over the town, ensuring safety for its occupants.

The day passed by slowly, every ticking minutes dragging on as if mocking him, to which he just rolled his eyes and continued his watch upon the town. 

The sun sizzled his skin, darkening it slightly, pale now becoming red then fading to the lightest of brown, giving him a light tan to which he disapproved. 

His pale skin had always been the representation of purity, now it has been disturbed and he could do nothing about it.

The day ended to which he simply smiled, a smile with no emotion, one that can only be classified as a facial movement. To a stranger it would seem he was a demon, one beautified in order to lure them, but he was the opposite. 

He was the symbol of all things good and pure in nature. He was the balance, the pure, the graced, the divine, he served he who is the father.

He stepped off the hill, spreading his wings as they soared him into the sky. His eyes darted across the small town, looking for any signs of present danger. He was left with nothing.

As he simply levitated over the town, he glanced back at his resting place, sneering at it with disapproval.

No, he could not go back there, another night sleeping like he had in the last five nights was something he simply could not stand.

SO WHO IS HE? 

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