Tears of an Angel

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
All I can say is that i must have been having a really depressing day. It happens sometimes... writing is how i release my emotions, so i end up with a few 'odd' pieces.

The phrase at the end is written in welsh.

Submitted: March 25, 2008

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Submitted: March 25, 2008

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It was the first time I had ever seen her cry, I remember the shock when I looked into those dark, beautiful eyes and saw the tears coursing down her face. I had never seen beyond the surface before, the surface that was so alive and bright. Those eyes I saw weren’t hers. They were deadly eyes, they drew you in, drowned you in a pool of liquid memories. Memories so painful she had trapped them there, neither letting them escape nor allowing them into her thoughts. I remember thinking of a deep pool, the surface alive with ripples and sunlight. Dancing with thoughts, dreams, emotions but none of them more than surface deep - the depths remained untouched. It took a lot to break through that cheerful, smiling surface, so alive, so full of life but once you did you were caught. Caught in the grip of her pain and self-hatred. The monsters of the deep that fed upon her like parasites clutched me and ripped at my heart. How long had she suffered in silence? Pride had sealed her lips and left her drifting in a sea of darkness. Pride had kept her smiling all those years, laughing at the jokes that tore her apart. The hatred of those who tormented her had been channelled away to some distant place where it stayed, slowly filling up every inch of her. The self-confidence and pose that had made her the envy of many had slipped, revealing a fear so deep it had become a living part of her. I could see it all in those cold eyes, a window into her soul, open only for an instant but it seemed to last a lifetime. 
 
I walked towards the sobbing child. No, not sobbing, she never uttered a sound. She was curled on the bench like she had sat in that same position a hundred times. A secret bench away from the world. I don’t know what had possessed me to approach her. Perhaps a distant hope that I could help where no other could. Perhaps it was just instinct that drew me closer. But she saw me and in an instant the smile returned, the open honest smile that had always been there. The sparkle returned to her eyes, the confidence to her gaze. She rose smoothly to her feet, every movement radiating happiness. And smiled at me, a beautiful smile, that said more than words ever could and I knew then that I couldn’t help her, she would brush me away as she had so many others. She was alone in the world and the world was alone in her. She smiled at me and I saw her tears in all their radiant beauty, like broken mirrors distorting that lying happy smile, shattering it and hurling back at me. Sharp as glass and like a dagger to my soul. She smiled and in an instant dashed my hopes against jagged rocks, as she walked past me and was gone.
 
I sat for a moment on that bench, a place of broken dreams and shattered hopes. I ran my fingers over the soft wood and felt each groove and dent in it it’s seemingly flawless surface. I looked up. Above me the branches of the tree were swaying and the curtain of blossom rippled in the wind. It felt like time had stopped as I saw the words carved a thousand times in the great branch above my head. Etched deep with pain and suffering, stark against the pale bark. God only knows how many times she climbed that tree and with painful strokes carved her mark. Her demon and her angel watching over her in silent vigilance. Words that tore at her heart and scattered its pieces to the wind then built it up piece by piece stronger than before. I looked away and in an instant the spell was broken, the moment passed. 
 
A million miles away and two years gone I sit at my desk and watch in wonder, as she stands alone in front of thousands. I hear her voice ringing with strength and authority as she speaks of the future. I hear her words but in my head I see a different face. Wet with tears and torn with sorrow. I hear her words and in my mind I see her smile, see the tears vanish and the anguish fade. As her voice echoes in my ears I feel her strength. She survived and what’s more, she won!
…it’s time we put aside our differences, time we worked together to shape our world. There can be no success without failure, but I believe that together, we can make a difference. I am willing to fight for what I believe in, but my weapons will be truth and justice. Let yours be the same! The time has come my friends…’
 
I switch off my TV, walk slowly across the room. On the wall is a painting. A bench beneath a blossom tree. I take it carefully from the wall. The back is made of pale wood and engraved in it are the words:
 
Dwi angyles, angyles eheda
I am an Angel, Angels fly
 
I place it back. There is nothing more to say.


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