The Battle of Our Minds: Flesh and Blood

Graffiti

Wyatt had been receiving more and more commissions lately as street art gained in popularity. Especially interactive street art. A crowd favorite had been the wings. It was kind of poetic actually. Wyatt was looked at by all fellow Nephilim as a poor excuse for an angel descendant, and yet he could paint wings so realistic, so powerful, that people flocked to see them. He smirked as aspiring influencers posed against his wings, pretending to be angels themselves. He'd gotten the idea after a dream he had a few years back, when he was at his lowest point. He hated himself and despised the mockery he'd made of his own life, but when he slept, he imagined himself flying – wings and all – above the dark brokenness of earth. He could almost feel the great divide between where he flew in the heavenly realms and the dark pit of earth. Feeling that great divide was what lead him to privately renounce the life he'd been living and adopt a new kind of life – one where he did the right thing, even when everyone else believed it was the wrong thing.

He was working on a new mural this week. It was unusual, to say the least. One wing was bright white, whereas the other was darker than night. The mural was painted on a grey concrete wall. Ultimately, he got the idea from what he'd been experiencing lately in Newman Hall. The conflict of Light and Darkness left so many people divided. Nobody seemed sure of where they stood – not even himself. While people wanted to serve the Light, some of their good intentions were wrongly executed, leaving them further away from the Light than where they were when they began.

He couldn't express himself in words, so he chose to express himself in paint. And he needed her to see it.

"Hey, Wyatt!" Everly waved as she walked down the street, beaming excitedly to see Wyatt's work in person. Since he'd been training her, he'd mentioned his murals, but she'd never seen them herself.

She stopped short of the mural, her mouth agape at the thirty foot pair of wings that filled the breadth of the wall.

"This is incredible. You must use a ladder."

"Yeah, unfortunately Nephilim don't come with a real pair of wings to give us a little boost."

Everly chuckled at Wyatt's wit, running her hand over the wings, marveling over Wyatt's impressive shadowing techniques.

"They look so realistic. I feel like I could just put them on my back and fly away."

"Yeah, sometimes I wish I could do the same."

"Tell me, how did you begin doing these?"

"Everly, I don't know if you've heard stories about me, but I wasn't always the good guy. Something...changed...in me. I paint these wings, over and over, to remind myself that I have the ability to be a protector. Growing up, before she died, my mom used to talk about guardian angels. She believed in them. I believed in them then, and I believe in them now, only now I know that those guardian angels aren't up in heaven, they can be down on earth. They can be people like you and I. Everly, everyone needs a guardian angel."

"Even Nephilim?"

"Yes," he answered sincerely. "And one day, I hope I can be yours."

Everly flushed, overwhelmed by his warm words.

"Ev, I wanted to show you this pair of wings, specifically, because it serves as a reminder of how all parts of us make up who we are. We can't isolate the bad from the good, or else we won't remember why we want to be good in the first place. We can't let them wipe their memories. I know you don't agree with it either."