I felt the feathers before they fell. I always did. They were soft, and delicate. moving with the music that I feel and play. Moving with my desire to become an angel. But here they were falling from the wings of music I created drifting slowly to the ground as if they were dancing. He saw it to the first time he came he felt the music. He felt it enough and understood so much that he saw me as an angel. His little reclusive angel-babes. But...those times were short lived. I was in pain the last time I played my music. I felt the pain the agony as those feathers fell to the ground in a whirlwind of emotion. For weeks this has been going on, I even went to the doctor regularly. But I soon found out it was a mistake to go. The doctor told me I only have three months to live so I lived them to the fullest. I played my heart out I let all the sadness the pain and the regret into the music. Finally letting it surround me as the piece began to end, and when it did I heard the clapping I always did. He was always there clapping and making my temper go up..if only he knew how painful it was to be an angel...
The three months passed in a whirlwind. I was on my stage practicing The piano one last time, after I finished the song I was to weak to walk away so i sat there. Slowly feeling myself loose strength, I soon fell. I fell into the arms of the demon who was always there for me. I fell into his arms, and when I did all I saw was worry on his face. I told him to put me back on the piano seat, so I could play him a song. When he did, I put all my strength into that one song. The last song he would hear from this angel again. When it ended I knew I was done. So I rested my head on that special piano of mine. By the time he knew what the song ment it was already to late. I was already gone I was already a real angel.
Hyde cried at the funeral. All my friends did. As they lowered my coffin into my new bed, and they played the last song I was able to play. After the song ended all that was heard was silence. Once everyone left, only one person remained. Hyde stared at the grave sad and broken over the pianist, the great pianist that called himself an angel was gone now. When hyde went to leave the wind blew carrying soft and delicate white feathers over the grave, After that happened he looked at the sketched words on the Angel's gravestone "I always said I was an angel but now maybe you could believe me.."
