Flying Piles

Flying Piles

Piles dreams he is flying, soaring through the beautiful blue sky like he used to when he was part of the Heavenliest. He was once looked upon with stunning radiance and respect; once that gorgeous angel whose wings were as white as snow. He is smiling in his sleep; however, soon awakens to see he is still a Fallen Angel.

Pile sighs deep in thought, wishing to the skies that the Lord would accept him back into the gates of St. Peter. Piles wants nothing more than to apologize to the Creator for putting himself before his brethren.

He never once considered himself to be better than the others, he just wanted to help the humans in their way of life, to show them that things could be done without the use of violence; although, Piles was tossed out, his graceful wings torn harshly from his back before he fell.

Rolling out of bed, Piles lets the sheets from the hotel bed fall from his body, revealing his nakedness. He runs a tired hand through his dark tresses, and heads for the bathroom.

After setting the water to a reasonable temperature for the shower, Piles steps in and sets himself beneath the warm droplets. He thinks the feel of falling water will calm his mind, and set him at ease, but it does nothing as he suspects.

When he is done with his shower, Piles steps out from the bathroom, drying himself completely before heading to his suitcase. He never likes staying in one place for too long, always afraid that Redemption is waiting for him to slip up. He knows that if he spends too much time in one place with the humans, his essence will be tracked and he will be executed once and for all.

Thrusting on a pair of underwear before jeans, Piles moves across the room, and pauses at the full length mirror hanging on the door beside the empty closet. He turns slightly and cranes his neck to see the crude scars that always remind him of that wretched day four hundred and six two years ago. The scars that dare him to forget.

Overcome with sorrow, Piles tears his eyes from his reflection and throws on a cotton shirt. His wings gave him a reason for living, a reason to wake up every beautiful morning and say hello to the sky, but when he looked upon the sky now, he only imagines the scowl of an angry God looking down upon him.

Piles plants himself at the foot of the hotel bed and pulls his knees to his chest.No, he screams at his mind,no more running. He tells himself that if the Redemption wants him, he could have him. Piles wants life, and without wings, there was no life, so why waste his time living?

He wants to feel the breeze in his hair, the sun tanning his skin that was now pale. All Piles wants is to feel the love the Creator once had for him.

For a short moment, Piles wonders if it was possible for Him not to love, doesn’t God live everyone?

With a confused shrug, Piles sets his chin on his knees and breaths with uneasiness. He’s been in Riverton City for more than five weeks, Redemption was coming, he feels it at his finger tips, Redemption was near; closer than he had ever been.

“Where are you Trevino,” Piles said aloud, “Why are you taking your sweet time? Finish me already.”

A laugh startles Piles, and he springs to his feet. There grinning viciously at him from the doorway of the hotel was Trevino, also known as the Redemption. Someone every Fallen Angel feared, but for an instant, Piles felt nothing. “You fool,” Trevino mocks, “Why do you not run?”

Piles straightens out his shoulders, sure to show no trepidation, even though that’s all that ran throughout his being now. “Because, Trevino,” he said, cursing himself when his voice cracks from the intense pressure, “I’m finally ready.”

Redemption laughs once more, seeming to be the only one that finds anything slightly amusing. “Piles, Plies, Plies, you simply hoodwink. You spend almost five hundred years hiding your essence from me, and all of a sudden wish to reveal yourself. Foolish, just foolish.” Redemption takes a quick step closer, chuckling loudly at the way Piles flinches, almost tripping over the side of the bed. “You reveal yourself, and fear me even so? Oh, Piles, you’re going to make this the most enjoyable retribution yet.”

Piles settles his footing and breaths out slowly, “Cut your words of joviality and do it already.”

Redemption straightens his face after hearing how Piles, a Fallen, raises his voice. “You do not speak to someone such as I in that tone, you filthy vermin. It seems you’ve spent too much time down here with the humans that you’ve lost all respect.”

“That is because you do not deserve an ounce of it!”

Redemption stares Piles down with a scowl that could kill, and suddenly from his back, two magnificent, spectacular, dazzling white wings appear, sending a river of envy down Piles spine. His silk feathers and wide span used to be just as breathtaking. “You miss them, don’t you?” Redemption said with a disdainful grin. “Too bad I was given the pleasure in ripping them from your back.” His smirk grew,” I know you remember, how you became submissive in my grasp when I gripped your wings then tore, tore until you were nothing more than a bloody pile of Piles.” His laugh reverberates off the walls, “Get it, pile of Piles, because your name is…”

Seeing that Piles found nothing funny in the least, Redemption ceased from his joke, and rolled his neck, loosening what tension was stirred in his body.

“Are you done?” Piles says.

Redemption breathes and holds out his hand, and in his grasp a light blue cloud of light sparks. In only seconds, the cloud is forming into an object, undetermined, but Piles knew whatever it was, was going to be the object that opens the portal from this life. As the sparks become recognizable, Piles points out that the object forming in Redemption’s hand is an elongated thick sword that reminds him of the swords gladiators used in the Roman Era.

Redemption twirls the glowing blade in his hands, waving it before Piles vision. A lump of regret for not having ran sat in Piles stomach for a second, but then he calms himself, telling his mind that everything would be okay. Although he knows more than anything that an eternity in the chains of Hell would be anything but okay, Piles wants to make himself feel better about the decision he made.

With a grunt, Redemption thrusts the blade into the ground and the earth opens up in a circular form five feet in diameter. Heat rises from the core, slapping Piles and Redemption across the face.

There was so much fear and regret, sorrow, and pain flushing out of the core. So much, that Piles steps back after hearing the tortured souls, the once living, and cackling laughter of wicked demons. He remembers the time the Heavenly Father showed him and his other brethren what Hell was like, how the tortured souls clawed at him and the Father to be saved, to be forgiven for the wrong they had done during their time on the surface, and how the Creator said to him that not even he has the power to save someone who has already damned themselves, someone a lot like Piles at the moment.

Piles met Redemption’s gaze, and took a second to see the apology in his eyes. Trevino was an Angel who finishes his job whether he liked it or not, and thought he was known as a bully who sent the Fallen to their torment with a smile on his face, Piles could depict a degree of grief in the eyes of the man he once called comrade. “Well,” Piles says taking a step toward the blistering heat. “Do away with me.”

Redemption steps forward as well, taking a glance down to Hell and says, “It pains me, brother, to do this you to, but know I have no choice. We can’t have the Fallen walking around the humans. It calls forth to trouble.”

“I know,” Piles sighs troublesomely, “I’m ready to meet the fate our Father had in store for me.”

Redemption nods and moves behind Piles, taking a moment to apologize before driving the blazing blue blade into Piles back, driving out the bones that were once his beautiful wings. Piles drops to his knees, holding back his screams as much as he can, almost on the verge of biting off his own tongue. It hurt more than having them ripped, but now having the rest graved from his body seems only ten million times worse. “I know you will not forgive me, Father,” Piles says aloud, his words directed to God, “But I hope you know that I gradually accept the destiny you’ve set before me.”

Digging the last of the cartilage that were once wings, Redemption backs away from Piles, “It is time, brother,” he says.

Weakly, Piles brings himself to his feet, and turns to Redemption, his arms spread wide, and an egger smile showing on his face. “Tell Him, all that I have said, Trevino. Can you do that for me?”

Redemption nods, wondering why Piles insists on carrying a smile to a place where only tears were shed.

To maintain his dignity.

Closing his eyes, Piles backs for the hole to Hell, and before falling he says, “… Amen.” And he falls, faster than he did when his elegant wings were torn, feeling the whistle of the crimson stone kiss his being. He fell, fell, and fell, and he dreams that he flew.