Bits and Pieces (My Book of Short Stories)

The Silver Angel *short story*

(( A/N: Ohhhhhh my gosh I love this art sooo much. It is absolutely gorgeous and inspired me to write this story. Please PLEASE go check out the artist who made this masterpiece, wlop on Deviantart. Because I assure you, there is more where this came from. This artist is so incredible and she deserves all the love in the world from you guys. So.. yeah. On with the story I guess. I might have teared up a little while writing it and listening to some suuuper sad/inspirational music. So maybe you'll cry too. ;0; I don't totally like the ending, mostly because I didn't know how to end it. Maybe give me some tips or ideas in the comments? ))

   The blizzard seemed almost infinite. An endless sea of swirling snowy clouds bleaching the sky an unforgiving grey and dulling the light of the sun until those on the ground could hardly distinguish night from day. It seemed almost to silence the earth in a way that only winter could, though such a merciless blizzard seemed almost unfit for such an elegant name. Winter meant an end to the sea of ice and wind. It meant that spring was always there, the light at the end of the tunnel. But somehow spring never came. This mysterious storm had appeared out of thin air, in the middle of autumn. It pounded the little villages standing meekly in its way, driving people and animals into their homes to escape the bitter cold. Those villages had no protection against such a wrathful storm, as blizzards like these almost never reached this far south. They were forced to hastily board up windows and doors, to stuff straw into cracks and gaps where the cold wind might slip its icy fingers into their homes. Some froze to death in minutes, unprotected by their houses which had collapsed under the strain of the wind and snow. Their fingers and toes black with frostbite, hopeless tears creating frozen streaks of ice on their faces, they were found fruitlessly huddled together for warmth. Others starved or died of sickness, the bitter unrelenting cold pressing in on their bodies and withering their crops until they gave in. 

   And the Silver Angel had passed them all by. Forced to not even turn her head as they cried out for help. Hers was a duty of misery, pain and regret. But it had to be done.

   Evalynn took a deep breath, steadying herself as she neared the next tiny, pitiful village, sagging under the strain of the sudden and merciless winter. She couldn't afford to hold compassion or love in her heart for these people, as much as she wished she could. She was not a golden angel, a bringer of hope and joy, or a promise of spring. She brought nothing with her from the heavens, no messages or omens of change, for better or for worse. Only more snow and the silent, dead stillness it brought with it. She had learned to accept this long ago, when she was first assigned her role. It used to tear at her heart when she would go to earth to announce that a tragedy was not over yet. A war not yet won, a famine not yet past. A winter that stretched on and on into eternity. Each broken-hearted, hopeless face that she saw as she walked past the townspeople used to gouge deep cuts into her heart, her compassion for them crushing her from the inside out. Now she only looked forward. Resigned and indifferent. It was almost cruel, but it was better that way. If she never looked back, she would never see the pain she was causing. 

   She stepped lightly onto the old cobblestone road leading through the village, holding her head high and unfurling her enormous silvery-grey wings to announce her presence. The Silver Angel was tall and imposing, moving through the blizzard with ease that set her apart from any human. Her steps were light and left no imprint on the snow beneath her, another thing that set her apart from the townspeople. A deep royal blue dress flowed out behind her as she walked, the intricate silver designs on the shoulders and chest shining dully in the grey light. Above her head hung a steely silver halo, that glinted the stern color of iron. The little houses almost seemed abandoned, like their inhabitants had picked up and left as soon as they caught wind of the coming storm. But out of the corners of her eyes she saw curious, shadowy faces peeking out from between the hastily placed slats of wood, anxious for encouragement that this would soon all be over. But they were only met with her. A silver angel, a harbinger of nothing. Blending in uselessly with the swirling snow. She tore herself away from this thought, forcing herself to focus only on the path ahead. Only forward. Never looking back.