By: A Flaming Moon
Fallen © A Flaming Moon
The first time I saw Angel was in a cemetery, of all places. I was visiting my mother and I just saw him in a ray of golden sunlight. He sat beneath a large oak tree, chest bare of any clothing, legs folded beneath him. A book lay before him, open to a page I couldn't read from where I was. He had his eyes closed, hands gently resting on his knees. And then two glorious black wings sprouted from his back, reaching out at least seven feet in each direction. It was so beautiful and yet so frightening at the same time, and when he opened his eyes, light shined from them in a glorious white blaze.
That was the first time I saw Angel.
That was the first time I realized what kind of Hell I was living in.