Stories

Falling

No matter how long ago that day was, it will always be seared into my memories, a never ending nightmare.

Of course, how could I forget three hundred years of protecting children from the threads of terror that seek the comfort of their minds. To forget the dewy clouds or my wings would be forgetting myself.

Oh, how my shoulders ached for the familiar feeling of my wings, their whispy blue feathers guiding me through the air, with a slight twitch of a muscle I could be gliding or diving, soaring or climbing. I was silent as night and flexible as a willow, with the strength of an oak, the sight of an eagle.

Now it's all gone downhill. I can't stand, the fall from the clouds crushed my legs on impact. my sight is gone, I couldn't even touch my toes if I tried, and the guilt gnawed at my insides 24/7. If I had only been there five minutes earlier, if I had payed more attention, if, if, if!
I guess that's probably what I missed the most, not the wings, the strength, sight, agility, or even the children. No, it was the guilt free, can do attitude that watching over a kid gives you. But, sometimes the kids fears were to much for an angel, sometimes the constant mocking and spiteful words took a toll so bad that it warped both the child's mind and its above counterpart.
Not much, but I don't think anyone reads this anyways.