The Stone Angel
I had been wandering for longer than I could remember; minutes, hours, even days had passed since I fled my life. Nothing was there for me. It had become a fruitless labor, day in, day out. Not a soul cared for me, no one would miss me.
That was how I came to be in the middle of nowhere, traipsing through a field of wavering grass, the stalks shadowed by the cloud-masked sky above. I could see something in the middle of the field and I ran to it, ran to see what it was, to feed my curiosity.
And there it stood before me.
The statue of an angel was like a beacon against the droll sky, made of a variant of white marble. The surface was weathered and worn with age, scratches and grooves marring what should have been a netherworldly beauty. Its body was slim and clothed in a flowing robe, draped about its figure that caused dramatic folds to form.
My eyes beheld its wings, hunched over its head and curving in towards its feet, the longest pinions crossing over each other. I desired to reach out and touch them, for the feathers were realistic beyond belief, and I wanted to confirm what my imagination could not. Every vane and marking of the feathers were paid attention to by the artist who had carved this unnatural creature, breathing life into what must have been an ordinary block of stone.
I let my attention stray to the face, that of a cherub, its pulchritudinous features amazing me. Strands of curly hair crowned its head, held in check by a band of twisting ivy. Above curving lips and prominently set cheeks and nose were a pair of heavily lashed eyes, gazing out at the world with a despondent air. Its brow was cast in a permanent frown, giving me the sense that it was unhappy.
Why would a wonderful creature like this, surely created by a follower of God, be malcontent? The emotion upon its face matched that within my heart, an expression that scowled upon the unloving earth that mortal men graced with their presence.
Perhaps, in some odd way, it reflected what I felt. I did not enjoy this world, for it had always been cruel to me. The people were harsh, the environment and animals cared only about letting the fittest survive; I was nothing to them. Supposedly, neither was this angel, being stranded out in the middle of nowhere with only the wind and sky to keep it company.
But now I was here, the only one alive that understood it. This being was alone in the world, tied to the earth when it had wings. It should have been free in the sky, resting amongst the clouds and enjoying the attendance of its kind. For some reason, it was not residing in heaven where it should be.
Was this angel cast away by God and put here on earth to live out its miserable days in solitude? Was it like me, seeking love in a place that gave none? It needed a different life, a chance to prove itself once again that it was worthy to be one of God's children, to attain its dreams of affection from others.
It needed the same chance I did, for I, too, must have been tossed to the ground in frustration by my creator. I was a mere mortal, wrought with emotions that boiled eternally in my blood. No one showed me a scrap of respect, no signs of decency or love. That was why I had fled my home and came to this field to find a place to rest for eternity.
I yearned to be free of this society completely, to escape into the sky and never be seen again. This angel, this solitary being was the only one that I could share my feelings with, even if it was a statue. It was tied to the earth, just like I was, yet it had wings. A stone angel that was meant to fly but never could.
Just like me.
It was time to put my past behind me and accept my solitude. In one moment I tossed away everything I ever had claim to: my family, my room, my school; none of it mattered anymore. I would reside with the stone angel and keep it company until I passed on and left only my bones as a reminder.
It was then that we became one being, an entity that would be forgotten as time stretched into eternity.