HE WAS AN ANGEL [1]

A WEEPING ANGEL

The angel was strong, and his hope was bright and shining. He was light, a sun in the darkness of the Volturi grounds. He had visitors, once, until they were forced to leave him be, and then solitude took over and chased the angel's hope away.

The angel was a warrior once, the best Heaven had, until God looked him in the eye and told him on Earth he will stay. The angel believed his Father, and let the winds take him away, and he fell and fell, until darkness swallowed him. When he woke to find three men, red eyes met silver, cold touch met burning hot, and the angel knew when his soul sung, there were his men, his lovers for eternity. He had thanked his Father then.

The angel had thanked his Father in vain. The angel suffered, his voice lost, his hope crushed by mountains of darkness and loneliness. And then, the angel dreamed of flight.

The angel dreamed of spreading his six abyss like wings, taking flight above the city of Volterra and watching the people move from above, seeing the landscape bathed in light from sunset and sunrise, watch the moonligh shine on buildings and paint the streets in it's silvery light.

The Kings visited him often, and they hurt him every time, but the angel loved them. How could he not? He knew they were ashamed of their love for him, disgusted by his form and their own attention to it. But when the angel's hand met that of Aro, the world began to fall, as the man's eyes lit in fury and his expression became murderous.

The angel's silent screams and his wide silver eyes filled with a kind of agony the three Kings will never forget were carved into their minds, as each king tore a set of wings from their angel's back in their murderous rage.

Six abyss wings lost their colour as they were finally torn from their place, burning the kings who dropped them and watched them bleed the colour black onto the stone floors of the high tower, like dripping ink, and reveal a bone white colour underneath. The wings burst into flames, and burn away the angel's dreams with them.

The mighty angel wept, his body shaking in agony that will last for all of eternity, tears of gold dripping onto black silk sherts of the bed, his body hanging from the roof of the cell by a thick metal chain that linked to his metal collar and shackles on either wrist and ankle. The angel wept, as the Kings stared at him in absolute shock and rage, because they only wanted him to stay, and they were being generous to him, doesn't he see?

THE ANGEL'S LOVE WAS DYING, HIS DREAMS ASHES AND HIS HOPES SWALLOWED IN DARKNESS AND SHADOWS. HIS WILL TO LIVE WAS HANGING BY THREE THREADS TO THREE KINGS, WHOSE LOVE FOR THE ANGEL IS SLOWLY GROWING, WHILE THE ANGEL DROWNS IN GRIEF AND AGONY.