- a random & fictional story. by Valerie Anne
an angel fell into my arms the other day and i looked at it, thinking, 'what the hell is this?'
the angel stood up tall above me, and said, 'thank you. thank you for catching me.'
'no big.'
'let me help you,' the angel continued to speak, but i quickly tuned out. there were too many things going on in my head; the last thing i needed was to hear some random stranger telling me how his day was going.
eventually, my ears grew accustomed to its voice. '...i thought you might need a hand with this.' the angel reached out. it reached out to touch my chest, no - it meant to touch my heart.
i took a step back to get an even measure of the creature with white wings; this angel. it wasn't goodlooking nor was it hideous, however it was certainly beautiful.
'i don't need your help,' i pushed its hand away.
'He thinks you do.'
'you can tell him i don't.' i turn to walk away.
the angel trailed me; straying barely few steps behind.
for the past few days, the hours stretched to torture me, and thoughts of work and love and life consumed me, swallowing me whole. it wasn't only of late that these terrible concoctions of hatred filled my empty soul. in fact, though the months flew by quickly, the days felt like they were being dragged by an old horse in the sahara desert. life was considerably kind, relative to those facing disasters and war in other parts of the world - that was how i consoled myself. it worked, for a while.
if lady luck did exist, she wasn't on my side, and my luck was surely wearing thin as a light drizzle began. as i expected, it wasn't long before it began to pour. just as the rain began to pick up, the angel whips out an umbrella, no, it's white wings, over my head.
the rain could be heard boucing off the dull grey cement floors. yet, the onslaught of raindrops lost their sounds in the angel's soft cotton-like wings. as kids, our imagination led us to believe that angels had wings like birds - made of feather. but it's really not like that at all. angels' wings are actually made of the softess and purest cotton. i was so tempted to touch its wings, like kids at the candy section of the grocery store. i've grown up since. we all have, and we lose that sense of yearning to touch.
some would say that it felt like time stopped - there and then. what a nightmare, i would think if time really did. thankfully, time didn't stop, it never does. it can feel like time slows down; but it never stops. we're too busy living life around time, such that we can't live if there is no time. so in this one frame of infinite time, who would've thought that a creature would have its wings above my head, in the pouring rain? i know i didn't.
'funny, so it has other purposes.' i manage a laugh.
'everything has a purpose,' the angel didn't laugh. 'if only people would take the time to realise what it is.'
there it goes again, time.
'so what you're saying is that everything that happens to us is for a reason?'
question of the century.'no, yes, maybe. i should ask Him when i see Him.'
'yes you do that. so what is your purpose in meeting me? was it to shelter me with your wings from this monsoon rain? if so, tell your boss that you'll be around for a while, i hear this year's rainfall will be a heavy and long one.' i stop in my tracks. 'but oh wait, i'm sure he would know the weather.'
'He knows everything. i am here to help you, i am here with a purpose.'
i carry on walking down the street. 'your purpose. my purpose. his purpose. purposes. people do things on purpose you know that right? even if they don't mean it intentionally, they do things with a purpose. and would you believe this, my lecturer said
all actions are done with good intentions. good intentions? pft.'
'you sound pessimistic.'
'no, life is peachy. all is peachy. i love life.' i kick a rock into a muddy puddle.
'you have a purpose.' the angel starts.
'yes, i'm sure i do. and i know you have a purpose too. what was that purpose again?'
'it was ---- '
i interject. 'oh right, it was to tell me that i need help with this right?' i said, clutching my chest. 'damnit, it doesn't take a genius to know that.' i raise my voice.
'it isn't your fault.'
'if i wanted to hear that, i would've just asked my girlfriends. at least they would provide me with ideas as to how to burn his place down, or dump him in the sewer and get away with it.'
the angel laughed ever so slightly.
'so it laughs.'
'He did say you were pretty funny.'
'who would've thought, angels could laugh.'
'we like to be surprised too.'
'now, just because i made you a laugh, it doesn't mean i'm gonna wear a cow suit to surprise you. you aren't a friend.'
'i'm an angel; we don't have friends; we have cases.'
'i'm a case?'
'yes.'
'so what number am i?'
'2,912,395.'
'i see, i'm very important on that list, being i'm the 2,912,something something something.'
'you are important.'
'ok,' i took out a pen and a piece of paper. 'i'm done listening to you. so if you want me, you can get me at my handphone.' i passed him my number, and started walking away.
the angel followed.
'my purpose is to be with you. to help you with this.' it points to my chest again, no, my heart.
'i'm fine. you're fine. i'm fine.' i pick up my pace. the angel follows.
'would you stop following me?' i yell.
'i don't follow you, i follow what needs fixing.'
'i don't need fixing.'
'you don't. but your heart does.'
'it'll fix itself.'
'yes it will. not perfectly, and not that soon. but it will.'
'so.'
'so.'
'so stop following me.'
'i don't follow you, i follow what needs fixing.'
'fine. take what needs fixing. but leave me alone.'
'you can't detach yourself just like that.'
'don't you think i know that?'
the angel kept quiet.
'i'm not stupid. i know tornados occur because of the sudden temperature shifts in the air, i know that avocados are good for your health and great for the hair, i know you can't keep a butterfly in a jar without giving it air. it'll die. i know that.' i wanted to rant, i wanted to scream. i wanted a hug. yet, i was too tired to try, too tired from trying to fight the system, too tired to fight for what i believed in. i sighed in defeat. i would've thrown my hands into the air if i had the energy.
'alright, i want to be fixed. is that what you want to hear? i want to be fixed, i want to be fixed so badly. but not right now ok?'
'i understand,' said the angel, as it stood with its wings above my head, waiting.
the end.
you can't choose the time you want to be made better, and you definitely can't choose the times when to be broken. but you can choose to be the angel to shelter those who are broken. and believe me, the world needs more angels.
