Snow Angel

Glaenca is my name, and I am an Angel. Heaven is great, so far, but then again I had a beautiful human life and my role in heaven is one of the greatest. I get to guide lost souls. Like my guardian angel helped me. My guardian angel turned me from evil ways, showed me the light, and helped warm my soul with love. “Glaenca, whatever are you staring out the window, again, for?”

“Oh, you know, love, doing what I do best, muse.” Lance wrapped his arms around Glaenca, sheltering her from the world, cocooning her in a warm serenity. He breathed into her neck, “your guests are waiting, love. There are even some Archangels to meet and congratulate you.” He took her hand and dragged her playfully to the Gathering place, open to the elements, which Angels used for large celebrations. Like the birth of Gods reincarnation.

There entrance brought thunderous cheers from the some 500 gathered Angels. Each individuals glow was enough to light the sky like a second sun, Glaenca was handed her child. She gazed lovingly into his eyes, alert and aware crystal blue. She hugged it close for a moment, whispered nonsense into his ear, then gave God’s reincarnation to the waiting Archangels. Who would bless him more and his parents.

After this Blessing, there would be a moderate celebration, no alcoholic beverages but a certain juice would be offered. Its taste was enough. The only food the Angels needed was a form of ambrosia, so the feasting would be limited but the dances and aerial displays of Gods children were indescribable. The banqueting tables formed an angular ‘U,’ the Archangel table forming the short end.

As a token of there gratitude, and Glaenca’s honor, she was seated with the Archangels. As the Father, Lance, was also seated there. The meal was coming to a conclusion when an unrecognizable Angel plummeted from the air, wings torn, stained with light pink blood, and an arrow through his heart with a red ribbon attached to it. At random places along the table, Glaenca could hear Angel’s falling to the ground, her eyes were all for he mutilations on the poor Angels body.

Lance shook her tight grip off his arm, and flew over to the poor Angel’s body. Glaenca glanced briefly at his eyes and they were cold. Hard. Unlike ever before, she quickly looked away. Over the Angel’s body, Lance murmured a few words of peace, and then flew up and away with the body. After the gruesome sight not a one was still in the mood for celebration. Everyone shuffled or flew away silently, lost in thought, a few Archangels whispered there apologies for the horrible sight and her celebrations interruption, but Glaenca was focused only on the sight of her love’s eyes.

Lance flew with the extra weight easily, it was but an illusion. The only thing real was the arrow, which was not what had been planned. The red ribbon would give away too much for the right people, and it would stir unseemly feelings in the Angels. Quietly he called out a name, not fearing that he would not be heard. Before his eyes a face seemed to form itself of the cloud cover around him. It burned brightly and red.

Eyes flashing, but otherwise calm, Lance looked directly into it and said, “I cannot believe that you actually went so far off the schedule. That is just stupidity on your part.” Without seeming flustered at all, the abstract face only said in a bland voice. “It has started.” Lance almost dropped the precious arrow, the last vestige of the illusion, but still vital. Nodding to show he understood, he flew off to contact the rest of his fellows.

From that day on, Glaenca noticed that Lance performed to a new and unusual schedule. He was almost always busy, and when he wasn’t he no longer had time for her. Finding herself increasingly suspicious and fearful, she chastised herself for being so naïve, he obviously had special orders from God. Despite all her reassurances, she followed him one day, followed him to the face.

Draping herself in gray Angel’s clothing, she stretched her wings, and watched for when her love flew off to wherever it was that he went. She found she had trouble keeping pace with his steady and grueling pace. He really is the best flier. She thought with no small amount of pride, which was quickly abashed by her feeling of insecurity, this was one clandestine meeting no one was intended to hear.

She was lucky that her acute hearing picked up the word that Lance whispered. “diavolo.” Unsure what it meant, Glaenca quickly forgot it, it was unimportant. What caught her attention was the face, glowing red, which appeared suddenly in front of Lance.

Without warning, Glaenca saw a silhouetted, in the deep cloud cover, figure approach Lance form behind. She almost dismissed this too, but she saw the tiny glow of an Angel made weapon, few and far between. Not thinking clearly, she screamed a warning o Lance as the stranger sunk the weapon, to the hilt, into Lance’s back. Lance just fell. Glaenca descended desperately so that she might catch him. Her attempt was hampered by someone grabbing her wings. “No, no, no!” she screamed aloud until her attacker put his hand over her mouth. He molded himself around her wings, so that she could not move, he whispered.

“You should have stayed home…little Angel.” Glaenca could no longer fight after hearing the voice, it was Lance. “Lance…” was all she could utter before she broke down crying, he obviously sounded surprised when he said her name. “Glaenca? Oh, you should have stayed home. You most definitely should have stayed home.” At first Lance’s voice was surprised a little gentle, but in the end it was a cold Lance that spoke. Not the one Glaenca had fallen for.

Still too stunned Glaenca offered no protest as he hit her in the back of the head, only welcomed the black relief. She barely recalled dropping from the sky, before her consciousness fled entirely.

Glaenca woke to a surrounding white. Her skin felt cold and she could not remember what had happened. She struggled hard to remember where she might be, who she might be, but could remember nothing. She struggled to sit up; her body was soar, as she tried to stand she fell over onto one of her wings, which shot threads of pain through her. She finally was able to sit up, but looking around only dampened her mood further. There was only white. A deeper look only gave confusing shadows.

Just like me, she thought, just like me.