Journey Home

From a cloud she watched the wind; no order, just continuous motion. The beauty of the ever-changing cloudscape was … heavenly, she thought, losing herself within the swirl as she flew above the creamy expanse.

Sudden, shattering shock. Pain, ripping violently through her delicate body. Blood, dripping relentlessly down her feathers, drenching them crimson. Bone, grinding and scraping within her wings.

The clouds, so magnificent, did nothing to hinder her spiraling descent from the skies above. Out of control, falling fast, true fear touching the angel’s heart for the first time in her whole existence. Fear that the seemingly eternal existence would be abruptly ended.

A thought in the maelstrom of her mind: did she fall or was she pushed?

Wind shrieking though the tatters of her tattered wings, she closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable impact. Slamming into the earth with such terrible force, excruciating agony blasted through her fractured form. Quivering and screeching out her suffering, yet no one responded to the cry of the broken angel.

A tortured eternity of recovery – eventually she healed enough to slowly limp away, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake.

The angel walked among the people, looking for help. Still hurting, she searched for the way back to Heaven – her ruined wings would never take her anywhere. Most of those people ignored her. Some led her astray with deception and false promises, false hopes.

Despair crept like a thief into her heart, her hopes gone, her dreams dead. As she was once broken of bone, she was now broken of spirit. Head hanging low, dejected in self-pity, the angel almost didn’t hear the stranger approach.

“You are lost?” the stranger asked her, but perhaps it wasn’t such a question. A tall saturnine man, a strange aura surrounding him, a taste of difference. She looked at him through her tears; saw that difference within him, yet the keenness of two alike. A connection. The angel felt she could trust him.

“I’m an angel and I’m trying to get back to Heaven,” she slowly shared with him, half expecting him to laugh and walk away deriding her. But all he said was “I know.” She looked into his eyes, as he went on, “I will help you on your journey.”

Crying tears of joy, she wondered, was this another angel, sent to her in her time of need, to be her guide on the journey home? She reached out to touch her saviour.

Pure torment screamed through her, jolted the angel back from her … saviour? The blackened flesh of her hand matched the flesh on his arm where she had touched him – what had happened? Her heart sank, somehow it knew the hidden truth which she did not – something was very wrong.

His visage shimmered and changed in front of the angel’s disbelieving eyes. A dusky figure stood in its place, darkly glowing eyes and wicked horns crowned his brow. But that diabolical face contorted in torture, the creature rubbing his taloned hand over the smoking flesh, charred by the touch of an angel. As she had been hurt, looking at the wisps of smoke curling from her burnt palm, by contact with a demon.

The horror in her heart overrode her hurt hand; she felt betrayed yet again. “Creature of Hell, what would you know about the way to Heaven? What else would I expect from someone such as you, but a corruption of goodness, deceptions and lies, a tempter, a monster who leads innocents astray?” Coldly angry now, righteous wrath. Her wings might be ruined, but she was no less an angel, and this was the enemy; a minion of malevolence.

The demon stood as he had before. “You are right about Heaven. I do not know the way. I’ve never been there.” His voice remained calm – with a note that seemed incongruous. “Angel … as much as you do not trust me, I am still willing to help you on your search, help you on your journey.”

“Angel …” a long, drawn out pause, “I am a creature of Hell no more. I escaped to this world. I saw the evil of my being reflected in others, and was repulsed by what lay within me. I looked to find another fate than the path of evil, the path laid out for me by birth and blood. In helping you on your journey, I journey also. I too, wish to get to Heaven, the road shall be different and I fear more torturous.”

How could she trust him, a demon? But what other choice did she have? Maybe it was the thrill of confrontation, but somehow she felt revitalized about her quest. “Very well, demon. I will believe you, trust you, although my logic and common sense tells me not, my heart tells me to give you a chance.”

The demon nodded, silently thankful, then continued. “The way to Heaven. I have been here upon this world for a long time. I have seen many things here. You are a relative newcomer. I may have seen the way to Heaven and not recognized it. Could you give me an idea what it might look like?”

This gave the angel pause. “I’m not sure if I could describe the way to Heaven. I’m not even sure if such a thing could be described. But I think I would recognize the way if I saw it.”

With a slightly theatrical look to the skies, the demon sardonically proclaimed, “Angel, you do not make my job any easier. But I suppose nothing easy is ever appreciated, and success through struggles is highly prized. I may not have ‘divine inspiration’ as to where Heaven lies, but I can hazard a few guesses.”

He led her to a place of power and glory, control and wealth. The stock exchange was busy, a hive where frantic broker bees buzzed and darted. Barely heard above the bedlam of buying and selling, the demon spoke, “The mortals dream of such power and the control it brings. They are afraid of the chaos of their lives, and this control makes them safe and secure. Is this the way to Heaven?”

The angel sighed. “No. I pity them. The peace they seek in such control, they are controlled by. At the mercy of the whim of their false god Money, they have sold it their souls. The only control and safety they gain is meagre scraps doled out by their master.”

Nodding with comprehension, the demon led her away. Next, a place of glamour and beauty, fame and adoration. The catwalk of models, a parade of pretty peacocks blinding the sparrows surrounding them, watching. Flashes popped as the music played, the commentary went on as the demon spoke. “Look at these beautiful people, the idols of millions – perfection in form, the mortals dream of such love and admiration given to them as such objects of splendour. Exquisite, are they not?”

The angel agreed, “Exquisite they are, in truth – more lovely than anything since I left Heaven. But see what they do to keep themselves that way? To themselves and to each other, in harsh competition? All knowing that when their looks fade with time, the ride will be over. Gorgeous bodies with no souls – Beauty is their false god, and it is a cruel Mistress, for it will discard them eventually, no amount of homage will retain her favour.”

The demon tapped his chin in contemplation, thinking “Come with me, angel.” He led her to a place of gloom and misery, despair and resignation. A dirty slum where the dejected residents plodded grimly, broken nags using unthinking muscles to turn the machinery of economics. In contrast with the prior two places, it was deadly quiet. No one had the energy or motivation to make a noise. And, to match the difference of surroundings, instead of speaking of this place of the lost, the demon stood mute.

Confused, the angel asked her guide “Why did you bring me here? I know your have little understanding of what Heaven means, but this … this is more like a vision of Hell. What madness is this?” Was this some final trick, his true demonic nature showing itself? Had he tempted her here to her destruction?

But all he offered in his defence was one word. “Listen.”

Curious, the angel did so. In the seemly unending silence, she heard something unexpected and incongruous. A girl’s voice singing a joyful song. Curiosity led her onwards, and she laid her almost unbelieving eyes on that girl, smelling the drab flowers with happiness as she played in the tiny garden.

As the angel continued to gaze upon this little girl, the demon’s voice drifted out softly to her. “She is the reason I led you here. Look at her surroundings – everything, the place, the people – radiates sadness and defeat. Yet she still has hope.” The demon’s voice held a strange note, a note of reverence and awe. “She is a shining star in the void of the little Hell that she lives in. I come to watch her time to time, sometimes I feel she is the last hope of the world.”

She could hear the tears in his voice, knew of his own despair, the likely futility of his journey to Heaven. And this little girl had inspired him, touched his black heart somehow, to continue.

The angel stepped out from the comforting shadows into the wanly lit garden. The little girl smiled to see her – gave her a hug, almost bounced with excitement and happiness. “A new friend! I love making new friends,” looking up at her.

“Yes, you’ve made a new friend, child. And so have I.” And so much more, the angel thought.

The demon ghosted away, unnoticed.

---

In the months that passed, the girl’s hope spread among the tiny community. And that is what they became – inspired to work together – realizing they had a similar enemy in Life. Bonded, shared their burdens, a network connected by trust and love. Things changed for the better, and the woman on the sidelines, Angela, watched this little haven flourish in front of her.

One day, a visitor approached the lush gardens and sunny avenues of the neighbourhood. He had been there many times before, but it was if he had been transported to a whole new world. He barely recognized the place.

He found who he was looking for, pulling weeds out of one of the wondrous gardens, as a young girl played nearby. A man got up from his own work painting a fence and inquired as the stranger approached the garden. “Angela, honey, I think there is someone to see you?” looking concerned at the tall saturnine individual who now stood quietly watching.

The angel looked up at the demon and smiled. “Yes, dear, this is an old friend of mine.” Interrupting her gardening to join her visitor. No trace of despair lay in the angel’s eyes, and seeing that glow of hope, the demon could not help but smile. He asked her somewhat jovially, “How goes the journey to Heaven, angel?”

With quiet contentment she replied, “I’m already here.” An approving smile answered her.

Unheeding of the pain, hand in hand, they walked in beauty.

• Favorite
• Report Concern
• Share This
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.

Tags:

angel, broken, community, demon, heaven, hell, home, journey, short and stories