Heaven and Hell | T.H

One

Words: 4009

Warnings: Brief mentions of abuse, vulnerable reader.

Collaboration with another author but she deleted, so I took to editing it and changing a few concepts so bare with me!  | THIS CHAPTER WAS EDITED AND REPOSTED ON  07/05/2019

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"The prophecy states that when the king lays eyes on his gift, he'll know straight away. He'll feel almost overwhelming power flood his veins – coursing through every inch of his then crumbling form. She'll be pure, good and bring him to his full potential."

You were falling for what felt like forever. Everything was cold, then it was hot-, so goddamn hot and you swore that if it got any hotter you'd end up with third-degree burns and that was just the last thing you needed right now, wounds to go on top of wounds. Heaven was always warm enough to walk around in one of those ugly sundresses but never anything less, never cooling down or heating up in all of your time in the clouds but now you could practically feel flames on every inch of your flesh. It burned and you wanted it to stop– in fact you wanted everything to stop.

Out of all the places, you had to slip into Hell.

Damn hell where they plucked angels wings and questioned them to the point of insanity. Where your mouth was expected to run dry and if you were desperate enough, you'd rely on your own sweat for hydration. It sounded revolting. You could've landed anywhere on Earth, even the coldest place on that planet would've been better than this– at least from what you'd been told. From what you'd been made to believe.

You would've preferred to die by hypothermia instead of at the hands of a demon. Shivering, relying on blistered and split wings for warmth sounded better then being tormented for weeks, maybe months, some would assume centuries.

It was your own fault for slipping out of Heaven anyway. Heaven was perfect, streets lined with small, white houses with a bed and food and even the simplest of gardens to compliment the design. People always said hello when they ran past, bright smiles adorning their faces. it all looked perfect. But no one said hello to you, not a single person ever waved. Instead, insults were hurld at you.

Cruel, venemous words that you'd think would make angels grimace but not these angels.  

You were the weakling, the ugly duckling-, though you weren't ugly at all, in fact, you were glowing, radiant and on Earth, you'd receive compliment after compliment when you wandered the streets against the rules. But heaven wasn't fair, it was torturous and the angels segregated anyone that had even the simplest deficiency which was rare but existed even in a place deemed to be as perfect as Heaven. Yours happened to be the black feathers that decorated the white, as well as the fact that you were the only angel in history to be born without a halo. Halos signified an angels purity, proved their worth but you-, you were so much less. A disgrace one may say but you had to ask yourself if they were just scared of you.

You struggle to get the chains off of your wings, the same ones that kept them hidden from all of the other angels. But they wouldn't budge, refraining you from stretching them out. Surely the drop wasn't going to be that long, any second now you were sure you'd hit the ground, blood and guts would stain the rocks and you'd be nothing more than a memory if the angels chose to remember you that was.

You wondered if they'd have a funeral for you, choose to remember you through whatever positive memories they had gained over the last however many centuries. If there'd be good food and dancing– no, you were fooling yourself. Maybe it was the fall going to your head before you'd even hit the ground. You wanted to laugh.