Her Angel

You'd think she'd be furious with him, thought the angel, observing his charge. I suppose she must be, but she loves him too much. Look at the wonderful dinner she's cooked for him, as she does every night even if he comes home too late or too drunk to eat. He watched the woman as she carefully arranged the hot food on the table, the meat and potatoes done perfectly, the salad crisp and colorful, fresh bread, still warm from the oven.

She is so careful, as though it were one of her paintings, he thought as she surveyed the table, hands on hips, then moved to correct this crooked spoon, that napkin. His heart filled with tenderness for this women whom he'd guarded since babyhood, and he shook his head sadly. He'll probably never even notice, thought the angel, and then she'll be hurt again. After last night and the broken promises, the anger and the violent words, the beating, thought the angel angrily, I can't believe she's still giving herself to him so freely. She doesn't believe that she really does deserve better. His heart ached for her, his lovely, broken-hearted, soul-scarred human. He closed his eyes and sent her a surge of warm love.

"Mmm," she said, as she felt it, not knowing why or even very conscious of the feeling of warmth, but only of a fleeting comfort. Then, he watched the golden warmth fall away and disappear in wisps around her feet as her thoughts, troubled, turned again to her husband.

"Late again," she murmured, sighing. She walked to the front door and looked out at the empty driveway. "You'd think, just once, your Daddy would call," she said in annoyance to her five-year old. The boy was not listening, but sat completely absorbed by a purple television dinosaur.

The angel moved nearer the woman, watching her face, listening to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm of her lungs. "I love you, dear one," he whispered as he watched her, knowing she couldn't hear him, and never would, until the day she "died." On that day, he knew, they would be reunited, two souls eternally interwined in love. If only I could let her know too, perhaps it would comfort her, the angel thought sadly.

He listened to her heart beat faster, her breath quicken, as she heard her husband's truck pull in the driveway. Let him be in a good mood, she and her angel thought simultaneously. Though he couldn't read her mind, he knew her well, and the angel understood they'd just shared another moment of synchronicity. He stood behind her protectively as the man came through the front door.

"I'm starving, babe!" the man exclaimed, and he crushed the woman to him, kissing her roughly. The angel listened, once again, to her wildly beating heart. She loves him, thought the angel, or as much as she's able to, trapped in her clay body. It's her body that is responding to him, more than her mind or spirit, he reflected, trying, as he did so often, to understand this human woman. She's got to see that this man is not very intelligent, nor even remotely interested in the things that she loves. The angel watched as the woman lovingly helped her husband with his coat, her face alight as he kissed her roughly and swatted her backside. "Dinner!" he roared, and the woman laughed, and headed for the kitchen.

They share passion, the angel decided. Still, I hate to see her linked to one whose soul is so young, so empty. She senses his innocence and, as most older, maternal souls will do, she wants to nurture and protect him. He watched the woman as she served dinner to her husband and children, listening to them talking animatedly about their day, asking questions, loving them with all her being. The angel knew that this was the happiest moment of her day...as long as her husband's mood was pleasant, as it seemed to be on this night.

She doesn't sense, thought the angel, at least on a conscious level, the danger in him. He studied the man intently, disquiet filling him. He is a soul eater, one whose soul will never mature or grow wiser because it is lost in it's own hunger. Or, if he can change, thought the angel, it will take many lifetimes, and her soul will have been ravaged and forgotten. He looked at the woman, sensing the acute anxiety behind the carefree, cheerful image she projected to her family. He watched the man for signs of anger or annoyance, ready to try and send her a warning, to protect her if possible, if the man lashed out again as he so often did, sometimes with shocking suddenness.

I've got to get her away from him, thought the angel in despair, or he will devour her soul. I cannot allow that to happen. Then, as though listening to an inner voice, he nodded, frowning. "Yes, I know," he whispered. "I cannot interfere. The veil that divides us might as well be made of steel. It is impenetrable. There is only prayer."

And as the woman slept that night, feeling satisfied and safe in her husband's arms, the angel knelt beside her in silent, wrenching prayer. Now and then he looked up and studied her face, "touched" her cheek gently with his fingertips. She stirred, as if a faint breeze had crossed her face.

"I love you," he whispered again, and then, in a moment's inspiration, the angel smiled, his eyes alight. I had forgotten, he thought with excitement. I am permitted to send her a dream message, a dream I myself have woven. Concentrating, he placed two fingers on the woman's forehead. Once again, she stirred, then quieted, sighing softly. He closed his eyes, his fingers seemed to glow in the darkness of the room. The woman's eyes began to flutter, and her breathing became shallow. Her heartbeat slowed, her body relaxed completely, and she entered the world of her angel's dream.

She stands alone in a dark forest. It is late afternoon, and the sun slants sideways through the deep foliage. It is dark here, and a mist rises from the ground and swirls around her, making it even more difficult to see through the gloom of the trees. She shivers, and the skin on the back of her neck begins to crawl. Suddenly, the woman knows, in some instinctual part of her brain, that she is being watched...and she is afraid.

She turns in circles, looking for a familiar landmark, a building, anything to help her get her bearings...but everything looks alien, unfriendly. Her breath comes in shallow gasps as the fear descends on her. She knows she must flee, now, or it will be too late. In the instant she turns to run towards a break in the woods, towards something that might be a trail, she hears a roar echoing through the trees behind her. Her heart leaps to her throat, and she is momentarily petrified...unable to move, to breathe. Another roar, she spins around and is terrified to see a giant black bear, its fangs bared and drooling, charging towards her from 100 yards away. She screams, turns and plunges into the woods, heedless of the branches that lash at her face, claw at her throat.

The bear roars again, this time much closer, but she doesnt dare turn around. The womans feet race across the ground, slippery with rotted leaves and branches, and she knows with an icy certainty that she must run as fast and as sure-footed as she has ever run in her life. If she falls, she is dead...not quickly, but in a tortuous, bestial way, prey to a monsters hunger. She cries out in terror as an image of the giant bear's teeth sinking into her neck flashes through her mind, making her race even faster through the dark woods.. Then, the image is swept away by another angry bellow from the bear, and she can hear its paws pounding through the trees, can almost feel the earth shake beneath her. She glances back and sees it thundering directly at her through the woods, incredibly fast and powerful. She suddenly knows, with heartbreaking clarity, that she isn't going to make it.

With a desperation born of deep, primal terror, she runs faster still, oblivious to pain, to fatigue, to the clawing in her lungs. She knows she is about to die, and she sobs in agony. Oh God, she thinks, my children...my babies... Her breath comes in gasps, her sides ache in agony from her fear and her terrified running...but she pushes herself even harder. There is light ahead, a clearing. Her heart leaps in sudden hope...perhaps shelter?

Another roar, this time nearly deafening her in its closeness, sounds behind her, and she very nearly stumbles in fright. She glances back again, unable to help herself, and sees with horror that the bear is almost upon her, only yards away. She screams runs faster still, her body only responding to its desperate need to survive. In an instant, time seems to slow, then stand still, and the next moments come in frame-by-frame slow motion. As she plummets ahead, she is horrified to see that the clearing in front of her is not a shelter but a cliff . She has nowhere to run! She is blocked on both sides by the thick underbrush -- behind her is a roaring monster, in front of her, only yards away, a sheer drop-off.. She is finished.

In that split second, she makes a desperate decision. Ice wraps around her heart as she realizes she must choose between two kinds of terrible death -- mangled and torn apart by the cruel claws and fangs of the beast that is nearly upon her, or almost certain death as she leaps, falls and is crushed on the rocks that must wait below. Her mind rages against her fate, and in another click of time, she slows, uncertain, wanting only to survive. In that moment the bear roars again, nearly stunning her. She cries out in agony as she feels its terrible claws on her back, splitting the skin from her neck to her hips. The claws slice through her, and she scrambles ahead, inches from beast, knowing the next blow will bring her down. She howls in pain, a heartbreaking death cry that echoes through the trees, runs straight at the cliff...and jumps.

Time moves forward in a rush. She is falling, tumbling, unable to breathe. She has only a split-second to see that she is hurling toward a lake, blue and calm, so beautiful, before her body slams into the water and her world turns black.

~*~*~



It is dark, and the woman lies still. Suddenly, her eyes jerk open and she sits up, terrified. She gropes around, unable to see in the blackness, and finds that she is lying in bed. She sobs in relief as she realizes she has been dreaming. It was all a terrible dream, she thinks, profoundly thankful. The woman turns her face towards the fireplace, enjoying the warmth from the crackling flames. She is still groggy from her dream, but some part of her mind begins to realize that there is no fireplace in their home. Startled, she reaches through the blackness to grab her husband's hand. Instead, she feels a wet snout pressed against her fingers, and she screams and backs away in terror. It is then that she realizes her back is on fire with pain, that she is in a strange place, in the dark, and not alone.

When the woman screams, she hears a startled yelp, a quick scurrying of paws and the shuffling of feet. She flinches as suddenly a match is struck. In the glare of the bead of fire, she sees a man's face. His eyes, a glorious, emerald green, sparkle in the light of the tiny flame. She gasps as she sees him -- he is a stranger to her. The man opens the dome of a kerosene lantern, lights the wick, and blows out the match. He replaces the dome, and as he turns the flame higher, she sees him more fully. He is indeed a stranger, and yet...somehow, so very familiar. His hair is tawny blond, and falls in soft waves to his shoulders. He is tall, and though not powerfully built, he looks very strong. She gazes at him in frank admiration, for a moment forgetting her fear, for he is very beautiful. It is, perhaps, the kindness in his eyes, that makes her think of the word beautiful, when she looks at him. The man smiles at her gently, his eyes filled with tenderness and concern.

The woman blushes, suddenly painfully self-conscious. She backs even further away toward the wall, wincing in pain. She gingerly reaches around and probes the wound on her back, and it is then that she notices the bandages under the coarse linen shirt she wears. She blushes again and holds the covers against her protectively, realizing that she is wearing what must be a shirt belonging to this man. It hangs on her body, covering her from neck to knees. The woman looks away from the stranger, deeply embarrassed, and glances fearfully around the room. She sees that she is in a small , rustic cabin, the floors wooden, with two chairs, a table and a bed, all very simple and crude. The fireplace is stone, and tin pots and cooking tools hang on nails which have been pounded into the face of the stone. Over the fireplace hangs a copper kettle, now whistling merrily. The man turns away from her, still smiling softly, and reaches for a cup from the mantle. He opens his vest and removes a packet of what looks like ground ginger, light, powdery. He pours a small amount into the large clay cup, replaces the packet and reaches for the kettle. As he removes it from the flame, the whistle slowly dwindles and becomes silent. The room is suddenly very quiet, and the woman can almost hear her heart pounding. It is then she notices a large black dog lying in front of the fireplace, its coat lustrous in the light. The dog whines softly, and watches the man with dark adoring eyes as he prepares the steaming drink. As the man turns to her once more, the woman is startled again at his beauty. He walks to the side of the bed and offers her the cup, his eyes gentle, his smile almost timid. "Drink this, it will ease the pain," he says, softly.

His voice, she thinks, her heart beating faster. I have heard his voice before! Trembling, she watches him for a moment, not moving. Then, she takes the cup from his hands, and drinks. It is hot, but not scalding, and tastes like rain-water, and peppermint. She swallows, feeling it warm her body, and she is suddenly completely soothed. She gulps the rest of the hot liquid, almost giddy with relief as the pain leaves her body. She doesnt notice as the man takes the cup from her hands. She is floating, her body a cloud, and the room seems to melt away. She hears the man pull a chair near the bed; she feels him take her hand. She opens her eyes, and sees his face, his gentle smile, his shining, emerald eyes. As she stares at him, his eyes seem to loom larger and fill her vision. He begins to speak, softly, and she closes her eyes and listens.

This will pass, he says to her mind. Remember, I love you, I am here. You will have pain, you will be hurt, but I will never leave you. The woman nods, not understanding fully but feeling deeply comforted by his words. The beast will hurt you once more, but as you survived the bear in the forest, you will survive the pain you will soon be dealt by his hands. Then you will be free of him, the man says, and he gently strokes her hair. His fingers caress the womans cheek as he continues. You must be strong, my darling, he says, and you must remember...you are never alone.. I love you. The woman sighs softly as his beautiful eyes begin to fade from her mind, and his gentle, familiar voice becomes a whisper I love you, he says again, and kisses her cheek. She feels his strong hand grip her own once more before she falls into a deep slumber.


~*~*~


When she wakes again, it is morning. She is in her own room, and her husband sleeps beside her. The woman sits up, breathless, as the dream comes back to her in sudden clarity. She reaches behind to touch her back, searching for the ripped flesh, but finds only her own, smooth skin. The woman sighs deeply and lies back, watching the morning light stretch in across her bed. She thinks of the man in her dream, remembering his beautiful eyes -- so familiar.

She lies in bed, thinking about the dream, the vivid details, remembering how she felt, what she saw, remembering even the smell and taste of things in her dream. "That was more than a dream," she whispers, and shivers, chilled in the morning sunlight.

Her angel watches, silent, a smile lighting his face, his eyes beautiful and sad.

~TO BE CONTINUED~

"Serenity" and "Glorious Sunset,"
above, and "Quiet Moments,"
below, Copyright Eve.
Used with permission.
Thank you!