Von Sein Engel (Of His Angel)

He looked out of the window as the rain poured on the stained glass. The pitter-patter of the rain drops seemed to smooth out the thoughts of his racing mind in the slightest bit. As he looked out upon the rolling plains of his castle, he tried to speak the words that he knew he had the sorrow and secret temper for. But in anguish, he could not cough out the words that would only prolong his wonderment in what his lover had been doing. With some effort he drew himself away from the window to return to his plans; he had business to take care of, in a manner of speaking.

            His thirst for the supposed ‘philosopher’s stone’ was being drawn out by a monsoon of bad decisions, a number of inquiries by the baron, and the loss of his beloved. He thought that if he could discover this ‘stone’ he could release himself from the trappings of humanity. It was a wonderful idea, and at the start, there were no quarrels. The baron had gifted him supplies for alchemy, he had been given multiple books on the subject, he’d had a seemingly unlimited time to achieve his goal, and his lover was fully enthralled about his interest.

            All seemed well, but there were problems that went along with his quest. The church did not agree with what he was doing, but since he was part of nobility, there wasn’t much the organization could do. It could not bring its hammer of the Inquisition down upon him; doing that would compromise obedience by the rest of the country. Despite the church’s limited options, they did manage to raise questions about him. They managed to spread rumors around about him; ones of witchcraft and devil-worship, despite the known fact that he did not believe in any part of any sort of religion. So, the rumor was shrugged off, but his reputation was scarred from then on.

            Disregarding the almost forgotten rumor, the baron regularly sent him supplies when the request arose. Nobody thought much of him; they considered him insane to some degree, but never a madman. That horrible title was reserved only for the truly insane, and he had not yet gotten to that point. But in the nights that he would lock himself away in his study, his lover would cry in her sleep. For she so longed for his presence in their nights that they had once claimed. The darkness had been given a scent by the two of them; a scent of lust, sex, heat, sweat, and above all, love. What were evil shadows to some were the memories and laughter of him and his lover. Peace seemed to reside in the shadows of his castle, whereas the shadows that roamed his plains still longed for something; that scent that filled the air and was brought with every night and shadow.

            In some instances, he would remember the shadows. But he would only do so when he had to replace his candles by the time that their wicks would get too low. When the light would dim, he would notice the shadows; and he would smell them again. He would always be reminded of his lover, for whom he called, “Engel”. The word was German for angel, and she deserved a title as such. She truly was an angel on Earth; she had saved his life multiple times before. The only way that he knew how to repay her for all of her good deeds was to give her his heart.

            She played with his heart because she wanted it so. Throughout their younger days when she would save him, she would always look at him with the most lustful eyes, the kind of eyes that had such a burning passion behind them that they could make the sun seem cold. He always saw this passion with her, and he had the same heart for her. When they came of age, he quickly proposed. Gladly, she accepted, and they waltzed themselves away into the castle that he’d been granted. With plains of green stretching across the western German countryside, they had all the time in the world to play. In every step they waltzed, in every breath they laughed, in every sigh they moaned with pleasure, and in every year they lived a lifetime. But there was one thing behind their fairy-tale varnish: secrets.

            He had never suspected anything of his lover. But he should’ve had some suspicions; he had no excuse to have ignored them.

            During the latter years of her life, the Engel went out into the forests more often without him. He did not want her to go out into the wilderness alone, for he had always brought his halberd with him to protect him and her. But she insisted to go alone, so she did. Often times, she would bring back with her strange items, ones that he had never seen before. On the days that she would bring the items back, she would display them, but then the day after, they would be gone. He would ask her where the item went, but she would have not recollection of the item. After about the third time of this strange occurrence happening, he stayed awake to watch her during the night. That was when he saw what he suspected.

            She would sleepwalk out of the bedroom and into the room where the item was displayed. Then, she would take the item and walk out of the castle and into the forest. He grabbed his halberd and followed her into the forest. In the center of the forest awaited a tree; it was the place that all of the strange things had come from. The plant was massive as it towered over the trees that lay rooted around it. As soon as she would approach the tree, the item would be slowly lifted out of her hands. And then, in a flash of light, the two of them were returned to the bedroom. But he, he had no remembrance of the tree. And neither did her.

            In a short dialog one morning, they aired their grievances as he strolled out of his study.

            “Why can’t you ever come to bed anymore?” She yelled to him.

            “Engel, since when have you had the anger to yell?” He replied. “Never have I heard you so enraged…what is the matter?”

            “I just told you what the matter was! I can’t stand your staying in the damned study all of the nights that we used to share! Do you not love me in that way anymore?”

            “No, no, my little Engel, that is not the case at all. I love you more than anything in the world. My alchemy is just taking longer than expected…the baron still has his worries about me. There is the possibility that he knows of the stone.”

            “He knows?”

            “I am not sure of it, but he very well could. His knowledge of it most likely came from gifting the alchemy equipment to me…the people who would sell the supplies to him would probably tell him stories…”

            “Then what will become of us if he truly knows?”

            “He will seize my operations and all of my alchemy equipment. All of the notes that I have taken he will use to find the stone for himself.”

            “But you didn’t tell me what will become of us…”

            “That is a matter that I know not the certainty of…”

            “Damn it, Charles, you do know!” He looked at her and then walked away. There was nothing more to be said.

            That night, she disappeared and never came back. That was the night that she floated up into the branches of the tree, never to return.

            Eighteen months had passed since his Engel had gone. She took with her his heart, and even after such a long time had passed, he still thought she would return with it. He thought that he would glance out of the window of his study to find her coming out of the forest. His alchemy equipment now laid covered in sheets of dust as he would look out the stained glass window of his study. He had come to know this window as, “The one that faces the forest.”

            He tried to dust the alchemy equipment after he listened to the rain and stared out at the edge of the forest, but he could not bring himself back to the craft. In frustration, he threw down the beaker that he was holding onto the floor. The saber that he kept by his side he drew, and swiped it across the table, knocking much of the lighter equipment onto the floor of the study.

            As he sheathed his sword, he returned to the window; the one that faces the forest. He took in a deep breath and knew that he could say what he tried to say:

            “My little Engel, where have you gone?”

 

            A year later, he died. He had not a large funeral, and he had no attendants; just like he had figured would happen. He had paid to be buried, and on his tombstone he had not his name inscribed, but one single German phrase, with the English translation next to it. The phrase read:

            “Von seinen Engel, verpasste er ihr Vorhandensein. (Of his Angel, he missed her presence).”

Reviews

[MR_BERG]

I loved the pacing of this piece. I also could see the doom from Charles' misplaced passion.

[Fabric Pulse]

Interesting. =]

[Ian Faraway]

I think "Charles" is an idiot for putting alchemy first :) no offense but if you got a girl and its night time, chances are you're gonna lose them if you don't get your put in that bed with her. It's his fault. But it was lovely penned. Good job.

[Jessi Berlasty]

"With some effort(,) he drew himself away" "he could discover this ‘stone(,)’ he could release" "shadows of his castle,(;) whereas(,) the shadows" "And neither did her(she)."

An amazing story. It makes me sad that your stories are so short.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the story. I like the way you wrote the story. Remind of a story of the writers of the past. Plot, pain and misery then death from sadness. A excellent story. Thank you.
Coyote

[Lilly Negoi]

splendid flow! i totally like the atmosphere surrounding the details and the ending fits perfectly the colors of this write!