Anastasia and Angel

*Anastasia's Broken Heart*

Anastasia died of a broken heart. The official cause of listed on the death certificate was suicide but anyone who knew Anastasia knew that she did not die from an overdose, she expired from acute lack of hope. When the heart gives up, it can no longer sustain a life. And this was the case with Anastasia.
 
Her last day was not unlike any other day. She woke up in her pink room, she took her bath and she ate her breakfast. The difference was that this particular day, her heart simply refused to continue the charade. She could feel the difference as soon as her eyes opened. Because on this day, her soul had decided to abandon her. There was no lingering trace of joy and she knew that her soul was simply dead. Once a soul dies the heart is the next casualty.
 
Anastasia had never been a particularly happy girl but she did have a habit of believing in fairy tales. So much so, that when her mother read her stories with unhappy endings, Anastasia cried until her mother changed the outcome to something more pleasant. Entire shelves of books in her room were edited to suit her fragile heart. Her mother dutifully crossed out the original endings and replaced them with something to make her little girl smile.
 
As she grew older, her unwavering belief in happily ever after never faded. She faithfully kissed each frog she caught because a small part of her believed that it might just turn into her prince. She took the same approach to love, faithfully tending to each heart that came her way. She fell completely and without hesitation, fully believing that tender care could cure any lover’s pain. And believing that in return, her lovers would care for her and protect her from the pain of solitude and misplaced trust.

Sadly, this dream was never realized, as one after another, they took her affection and left her once they were bandaged and whole. They left her without a second thought, never realizing that a piece of them stayed forever lodged in her heart. And thus, her unrelenting faith in true love became withered and weak. And like all dreams, hers were slowly poisoned by the toxic exposure to adulthood.
 
The last heartbreak wasn’t altogether different than the rest, but one heart can only take so much abuse. Eventually, even the strongest faith will fade into the melancholy poison that corrupts. The soul will harden and isolate until there is nothing left.

Tuesday morning was to be the last day Anastasia would see. She was calm and collected, knowing an animated body minus a soul is merely a diseased corpse with vital signs. And becoming the walking dead is a far worse fate than the most extreme heartache.
 
There was no choice. She had to end it before her dead soul began to rot inside of her.
 
As she prepared the pills, she remembered small flashes of happier times. The faces of her lovers flashed before her and she realized that there were no tears left to cry. Her memories danced before her eyes like fireworks. There was her grandmother, her father, her mother, her little dog. But none of these images were enough to revive a soul that had simply expired. Like a carton of milk past it’s expiration date, there is no hope once a soul goes sour.
 
Anastasia methodically went through the process of choosing a dress and applying her make-up. Mixing the pills with a glass of wine, she sat in on her bed and looked through her diary. One entry after another was filled with stories of love. Elation at the discovery of a new lover, and the inevitable crash when he left her. Over and over, the diary read like a record on repeat. The paper was stained with tears and the ink was running in some places.
 
The last entry was dated the previous night. It told of her latest heartbreak, Angel. Angel had been different, of that she had been certain. In the beginning, he had been attentive and sweet. He made her smile and he honestly seemed to love her. He was dark, brooding and deeply sensitive. Despite his darkness, she always overlooked his cruel words and forgave his long silences. She reasoned that his pain was as great as her own and with enough constant love, he would come around. She had been wrong. He became distant and his words were biting. And no amount of support or love seemed to soften him. It was as if he had grown tired of her over night and she suspected that another girl had taken her place. When she confronted him about the marked difference in his behavior, he simply said, “move on.” As if she could flip a switch and stop loving him.

At that moment, the last broken piece of her heart fell away. And her soul followed.
 
She closed the diary and placed it on the shelf near her bed. Anastasia could feel the medication beginning to take hold and she closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness. Slowly, she felt the promise of oblivion. Her hands dropped to her side and her feeble heart beat one last time.

At that moment, across the city, Angel felt a strange twitch in his chest. He clasped his hands to his heart and collapsed into a crumpled ball on the floor.
 
One last thought wandered through his dazed mind… Anastasia.

*Angel in the Forest*

Angel sits on a moss covered tree stump and flicks his cigarette into a pile of leaves. "I hope it catches fire and this whole damn place goes up in smoke", he thinks. A tiny fairy flits past him and retrieves the glowing embers before they can start a fire. "Do you want to be stuck here in her sick world"?, he screams. "At least if we burn the forest, we'll be free". The fairy darts and bobs through the moss and bites him playfully on the elbow before disappearing into a patch of wildflowers.

He can feel her watch tick in time with his heart and he knows she is near. He gave her the watch when they were alive, as a reminder of his heartbeat. He had told her that as long as the watch ticked, he would be hers. She never took it off. Somehow, the damn thing had followed them here. In this place, the watch seemed to have a mind of its own. He could hear it, feel it from across the forest. The incessant ticking was a maddening reminder of his love for her. And how he hated loving her. He had hated loving her in the human world and it was even worse in this place. Angel had never been comfortable with feeling anything he couldn't control.

The thought of being held captive was enough to make his skin crawl. It was worse than any undead nightmare. When they were alive, when they were human, he saw she was falling in love with him. It drew him to her like a magnetic charge and at first his soul was certain he had found the way home.

But reality eventually took over and it became clear to him that she was far too sentimental for his dark nature. She looked at him as if she could forgive every tiny flaw, heal every crack in his armor. It was terrifying to let someone into the fortress he'd spent his entire life building. He hated being weak and he resented her for encouraging him to hope for happiness. He knew that she would eventually become tired of his sarcasm and his pessimism. And he knew that when she left him it would kill him. So, he left her. He told her to move on and find someone more suitable. She had been certain he was her soul mate. She had said she couldn't live without him.

So the brat had killed herself and because he was the cause of her broken heart, he was banished to this hell with her.

But she had no idea. She didn't realize that her angelic nature had become twisted by an unnatural death and that she was now in a morbid purgatory of her own making. Her suicide had erased all her human memories. All but one. She knew she loved him, although she refused to admit it; but Angel remembered it all. He remembered the first time he heard her voice, the first time they kissed and the moment of his human death. He also knew that until he could help her heal from her wounds, they would remain in this place.

The rage he felt over being pulled into her twisted forest was palpable. If only he'd let her in when they were alive, this never would have happened. If only he'd run in the other direction when he felt her begin to melt his heart, this place would have never been born. That stupid girl had literally been the death of him.

The tick of her watch was slowly driving him insane. And the knowledge that his rage would not protect him from loving her was making him ill. Rage had always been his shield against pain. But here, it fed her amnesia and made her forest indestructible. The more rage he felt, the thicker the brush became. And as much as he hated to admit it, seeing his love slowly turn cold broke his heart. Like it or not, she was his heart. And until he could find a way to make her remember, his heart would remain broken and he would be her captive.

Even more infuriating than her hold over him was the insipid game she played with him. It was an unfair game; she held all the cards. Anastasia refused to tell him that she loved him. She refused to follow him into the dark. It was always he that sought her out.

In life, this never would have happened. When they were alive, she followed him and hung on his every word. Here, he was the one who watched her sleep and followed her into the wild. He didn't feel whole unless he knew where she was. Perhaps this was also part of his punishment.

But when he saw her, all of his anger dissipated and he melted a little more. His sweet girl truly had the nature of an angel. And a childish angel, at that. But she was quickly becoming twisted and warped by the unnaturalness of this sick world. Although it was her selfishness that damned them to this place, he couldn't stay mad at her.

When she fixed her green eyes on him, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her from herself. Because really, she was the only threat in this place.

He was cursed by the memory of her gentle spirit and her unmovable faith in him. He couldn't betray that trust. They were fated to be together and he had left her vulnerable in the human world. He wouldn't allow that to happen again. He would save her. He would heal her. And in doing so, he might save himself.

*************************************************************************************************************

Angel's heart pounds wildly as the watch grow near. He can feel her energy cut through the air like a knife and he is angry at himself for smiling. God, he loved her. And he hated her.

 Leaning on a tree for support so she wouldn't see him shaking, he takes a long drag from his cigarette and prepares himself for her antics. Perhaps this time she would drop the game and whisper that loved him. Perhaps this time, she would look at him and see the path that had brought them here. But then again, perhaps she would fix those green eyes on him and lay him bare with her anger.

The air sparks with electricity and he knows she will appear any second. A great gust of wind shakes the trees and she is standing in front of him. His girl. "Be cool", he tells himself. And he does his best to keep it together as she makes her way toward him.

*Anastasia's Game*

The thin veil between delusion and reality begin to recede and I see Angel in the shadows. He is confidently smoking a cigarette, casually leaning on a tree. Devil may care, written all over his face. This is the man I love, though I will never betray my heart and tell him so. The twinkle in his eye says it all. He is far too coy to ever let those words fall from his lips, either.

I know him too well to quarrel. Words make little difference in this place.

We stand apart like this for hours, challenging the other to move first. It will be me, I think angrily. And he smiles. He can hear me, I think. A slight nod and a wink, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. This is ridiculous, I think, as I sit down in the dirt. Dust settles on my white dress and I will the dress to turn black. I amuse myself with my magic for hours, to pass the time.

"I will sit here for eternity until you give up this stubborn game" I say defiantly. "Suit yourself, babe". He says as he takes a long drag from his never ending cigarette. "You started the game, remember? To test me. I hate being tested. You can wait".

"Now whose testing who?" I say, lip quivering. I really am not used to not getting my way. This amuses him and he sends rose petals across the breeze and they settle around me. I want to tell him how lovely they are but I am too angry to speak. I make his petals wither and he laughs like one would laugh at a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Why did you do that to your dress?" he asks.  Refusing to look at him, I whisper, "I was tired of you looking at me like that and black is better suited to my mood.”

You are a sullen child, I think to myself. You are sitting here in the dirt because you refuse to move an inch. He tilts his head toward me as I think this.

 His laughter startles the birds in the tree above him and the veil between us closes again. And I am left alone in the dirt, in a dress which simply refuses to return to white.

I sit in the dirt as dusk turns to pitch blackness and I wait for the veil to re-open. I put my ear to my watch and listen for the tiny beat of its heart. This watch is all I have now to connect me to him. Its steady tick and his heartbeat sound off in unison. I have no memory of Angel giving me the watch, but I know it connects us. Figures, I think. He leaves me with a reminder of his heart when all I want to think of is his temper.

My hideous black dress, once a vibrant white, angers me. I fuss with the petticoat until I have torn it into tidy shreds. I inspect my shoes and throw one at a fairy who smirks knowingly. “Stupid fairy!" I scream, as she flits away.

With a heavy sigh, I gather up the leaves and withered rose petals around me and fashion them into a serviceable pillow. It will be a long night in the forest but I refuse to give in.  So here I am, alone in the dirt and sleeping on a pillow of rotting leaves and rose petals. This is absurd.

“My God he is stubborn", I yell to no one in particular. Thunder claps, and rain pours from the heavens in heavy, angry drops. Add that to the list of things that are my fault, I think. I haven't eaten in two days and I have very little control over my magic at this point. Any display of anger is going to be dangerous. I am, however, being very brave.

 I congratulate myself on my bravery as the wolves and banshees sound off their nightly song. The banshees know better than to taunt angry angels. And there is nothing in this forest that scares me more than living without my angel. Which I will never admit to him.

As the rain falls, the pile of dirt I have been sitting on inevitably turns into mud. And still, he does not return. My withered rose petals float around my tattered skirt, taunting me. As I pick one up and press it to my cheek, big tears begin to well. So this is love? This stubborn game is love? Nearly defeated, I lay back in my puddle of mud and concentrate on playing checkers with the stars. One by one, they twinkle and jump over each other.

My watch ticks in time with the wind, reminding me he is out there still.
Hours pass and it turns cold.

Almost asleep, I hear him. “You are the most stubborn little thing I have ever encountered. You would prefer to lie in the mud and starve over making one step towards me?”

"I have nothing to say to you, Angel!" I yell defiantly. "Liar", he whispers. "Do you realize that your little black wings droop every time you tell a lie?” I can feel him peering at me from his perch in the tree so I roll over in the mud, face down and refuse to look at him.

His laughter sends my shooting stars dancing across the sky and the blaze is bright enough to see with my eyes closed. I sit up and allow a slow smile to cross my face. It really is funny, this game we play.

I must be a sight, I think, suddenly embarrassed. Here I am, in a puddle of filth, like an animal. I wear a badly stained and torn dress and it is all because I refuse to give him the satisfaction of winning the game. Suddenly, I remember he can hear my thoughts. It is one of his most irritating qualities.
 
"You have leaves in your hair" He says, staring up at my unfinished game of star checkers. I reach to pull the leaves and twigs out of my badly tangled hair. "And you are beautiful.” I allow myself to smile once more at this remark. "This isn't over, Angel. I'm not moving”. He nods solemnly and retorts, "Neither am I”. We grin at each other in the dark, as I lay back down in my puddle. "Sweet dreams, babe" He whispers across the night. As I drift off to sleep, I hear his wings flutter in the tree above me. And I know that I am safe.

Slumber comes easily. Exhaustion and anxiety have taken their toll and I soon fall into a fitful sleep. I am barely aware of being moved from my place in the mud. I feel strong arms sweep me up and place me on a fresh bed of moss. Fingertips brush my cheek, and wings flutter but I do not stir. I can feel him above me, watching and I dream.
 
In my dream, we dance. He reaches for a star and places it in my hair. The star takes objection to being plucked from the sky and races away. "There's a place I want to take you" He whispers. "Close your eyes". I allow him to guide me across the sky.

*Alone in Her Forest*

 
 
I awake with the dawn in the forest. My dream hangs in my head like cobwebs. All the dangers of night have receded. The only danger that lurks now is my oppressive loneliness and the haunting knowledge that he is gone. But my little watch is a faithful reminder that his heart is never far.
 
I am no longer in the mud where I had so stubbornly slept. Instead, I am nestled in the moss, under a blanket of wildflowers. I reach down to smooth my filthy dress and find that he has repaired the hem and changed the color to a brilliant blue. "I hate blue" I think, stubbornly. But I am grateful to be presentable again, so I quickly scold myself for being so childish. My hair is clean again. I absentmindedly twirl a long red tendril around my finger and smile. It seems he took pity on me in my state, despite my petulance. His magic must be stronger than mine, I muse, if he could do all of this without waking me.
 
Another blasted fairy lands on my neck and bites me. I consider squashing her like the bug she is, but think better of it. I satisfy myself by freezing her in place. She hangs there in the air, mouth agape for several minutes. "That will teach you to bite angels", I sneer at her as she flies to safety.
 
I allow my mind to wander to more pressing matters, like food. If I am going to regain any control of my magic, I am going to have to eat soon. The problem is, that requites moving. I vowed to sit here for eternity.  "But I'm hungry!" I whine aloud. Apples promptly fall from the tree above me and one manages to hit me square on the head. That was easy enough, I think. And luckily, I have enough magic left to will a picnic basket with a proper lunch to appear.
 
No sooner had I finished eating than a sinking feeling begins to take root in my stomach. The shadows fall long and the hands on my watch twirl in chaos. I shake the watch violently. This isn't possible. If my watch is malfunctioning, Angel is in danger. I hear the banshees howling. Time in the forest has become erratic. The birds feel the pressure change and fly to safer perches. As I watch them escape, I see the sun and the moon are fighting for the sky. A sharp line divides the horizon into day and night. "To hell with the game. Something is very wrong". I know if I do not go find him, it may be too late.
 
Nothing makes my magic more potent than a fit of righteous anger or fear. 
And nothing scares me more than living without my Angel. "I really should have told him that" I think, as I prepare to find him. The forest is endless and the paths change at will. I curse myself for my anger at him and for allowing the game to take control.I remind myself that I was formed from pain and rage. I can do this.

*Severed Wings*

 
Charging myself to be brave, I allow all the hate and anger in the forest to permeate me. It makes me strong and my black wings glow red. When I am filled with enough rage to risk wandering beyond the horizon, I fasten my cape around myself and set out into the dark.

The fairies laugh and sing to each other. “Stupid angel”, they whisper. “Doesn't she know it's a trap“? Unaware of the fairies chiding song, I walk into the dark in search of Angel.

The unmistakable stench of human permeates the air. "There is a mortal in my forest", I growl. Fallen Angels loathe humans. They have the capacity for true love. Their love knows no bounds so their pain causes currents of chaos across worlds. They have the unfortunate aroma of death about them always. My defenses heightened, I continue on.
 
The watch returns to its normal cadence and I know that Angel is near. A heavy fog rolls across the ground and I see him standing in the mist. The putrid smell of mortality grows stronger as I approach him. In silence, he looks into my eyes, searching for my reaction. "You are mortal?" I ask, incredulous.

"Anastasia… we are…”

But I do not let him finish.

My anger boils over and I scream. "You were never in any danger, were you? This was all just a sick ploy to make me move. To lose the game. You knew if I loved you, I would find you”.
 
Looking at him now, all I can see is the rotting corpse he will one day become and I suppress the urge to vomit. "This is why you never let me near you. You knew I would smell your humanity! And still you baited me. Humiliated me."

“Anastasia! Do you not know who we are? Do you really not remember? Look around this place. Fairies, Banshees? This is the game! This is like one of your stories. Say you love me and this will all be over. Your watch! I gave it to you on your birthday. Try and remember, please!”

I look at my watch. I see the hands swirling angrily around the dial. My head feels hot and my wings are searing my back. I feel the heat starting to spark my dress. My love is dying.

I can not tell him I love him. I have never been able to tell him I love him. Those words would mean death in this place. Uttering that hateful word would mean instant destruction. Admitting that I love him would make me little better than a human. I can’t even look at him. None of that matters now. He is a human. And I am not.
 
As the realization that my dreams are dead crystallizes, the rage I feel makes my wings and dress burst into flames. I  glow with hatred. This impostor is no match for me, now.

 He stares at me and opens his mouth, presumably to explain. Before he can lie to me again, I snatch his tongue from his mouth and throw the flopping, bloody mess into the mud. He stands before me in shock. Blood pours down his face in long rivets that soak the ground below him.
 
 
“You are an abomination", I growl.
 
His eyes grow big and I almost feel pity but my rage sustains me. I raise my hands over my head and electricity sparks from my fingers. His wings fall to the ground.

"I curse you. I will send you back to your mortal hell. You will see me in the distance and hear me in your dreams. I will haunt you. You will remember me here and you will search the world over for my heat. You will only find pain."
 
I know I will never see him again. Humans can not easily find this place. My dark heart broken beyond repair, I prepare to send the final blow. I take one last look at what remains of my love and summon the strength to finish it. In his eyes there is only acceptance. I send a bolt of lightening into his heart and he evaporates.

All that remains of my Angel are broken crimson wings and his tongue in the dirt.  
 
I collapse onto the forest floor and sobs wrack my body. The pain is palpable and my flames are extinguished by tears that will never dry.

 
As I place his tongue in my pocket, I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that I did what had to be done. Angels and Mortals simply can not be. It goes against the laws of nature and the true nature of a fallen Angel is solitude. We walk the forest alone. The game was merely a distraction; it was a lie.

But deep in my heart, I can still feel him.  My watch ticks, thunder rolls, and I wander on.

*Death to Faeries*

My only protection now is a cloak made of vengeance. And though my cloak is heavy, it offers me no warmth. The winds shift and I stand in my dark forest, a place where no danger can befall me without my consent. The banshees, the wolves and the fairies are at my mercy. My Angel, now banished, is the only being with any power over me.
 
My watch still ticks in time with his heartbeat. I can't bring myself to throw it into the abyss. The last time I tried to rid myself of it's haunting presence, meddling fairies promptly returned it to my wrist.

And there it will stay. Eternally. To remind me never to be so careless again.
 
 
I walk onto the lake and twirl across it's glass surface, humming a song my Angel once played for me. My tears taste like hate, and the bitter irony of lost innocence. "How can I still love him?" I ask myself aloud. He treated me with callous indifference. He tricked me. He lied. And still, the memory of our game and his infectious laugh haunt my mind. He was not the only one cursed with regret, it seems.
 
I come across the place where we had that fateful meeting. It is hallowed ground, now. His blood still stains the forest floor and his wings lay in a broken pile. This place has become my church and my sanctuary. I build a glass house around his remnants. It is a shrine to my lost love.
 
I wrap ivy and black roses around the little house and I water them with my tears. I gently take his tongue from my pocket and place it in a silver box. I wrap the little case in magic and hide it in the wall for safe keeping.
 
"Fool", I scold myself. "You will never see him again. I might as well throw his tongue into the abyss with the watch. "He did not love me before. He will never love me. Not after what I've done.” I remind myself that love is a poison that corrupts the soul and gives birth to creatures like Dark Angels. Even so, memories of his wings fluttering overhead tickle my heart and tears make black rivets down my face.
 
Crows circle my glass house and scream out a warning. It seems the banshees are hunting fairies again. Long white hair swirls through the wind and the screaming causes me to cover my ears. Banshees are disgusting creatures. But they aren't very bright. I see six or seven of them swoop from the trees. I stand sill and they fly right through me.
 
Fairies dart and hiss, trying desperately to escape the terror. Several are unlucky enough to fly straight into a screamers mouth and as she chews them she spits tiny arms onto the ground. Now, I am not one to defend a fairy, but I'll be damned if I let this mayhem ruin a perfectly good pity party. Hands up in the air, I freeze the banshees in place.
 
Their screams are replaced by silence and as they crash to the ground, they shatter into tiny shards. The bodies of their tiny victims shudder and writhe, lifeless. Purple fairy blood splatters an already gruesome scene.
 
"You ungrateful little insects! You know better than to wake a hive of banshees. I suppose you lured them here when you realized you were in trouble? Next time, I will let them kill you all."
 
But they are not listening. They are busy burying the limbs and severed wings of their fallen friends. And I leave them to their chore.
 
The moon dips low in the sky, casting an eerie pallor on my glass shrine.
I see the crimson wings through the window and suppress a shudder. His blood, still fresh, takes on an unnatural hue in the moonlight. The blood seems to be changing patterns. Swirling around on the floor this way and that. I better go check the box, I tell myself.
 
Once inside the little house, I see the ivy and the roses have grown so thick that I can't see through the leaves. Thorns reach out and scrape me. A single drop of my blood falls to the stain on the floor and it turns blue. My hair becomes tangled in the ivy. It wraps around me until I can't seem to move. The sweet smell of roses chokes the air and I cough violently. "Great" I say to myself. "My shrine has become my coffin.”


 

*An Angel intercedes*

The vines have grown threefold and it has become impossible to move.
His blood continues to swirl angrily on the floor. It reaches the hem of my gown and stains the vibrant blue satin. It swims across my shoes and tickles my ankles. His broken wings glow and flutter of their own accord. I am clearly hallucinating, I tell myself. Angels wings, once severed, are dead. Rose thorns pierce my arms and I stifle a scream. No one will hear me, anyway.
 
In my head, I plead with him to forgive me. To find me. To save me. To love me. But the anger over his betrayal runs so deep that I can't seem to focus on any one thought. My magic, too, is useless. The angrier I get, the tighter the ivy squeezes. "My magic has turned on me" I think. I made this place out of pain and now the pain is alive.
 
The ivy and the roses were watered with hate and the glass was formed from regret. Everything in here is toxic. The box that contains my lovers tongue rattles in the wall. I cry aloud to my Angel. I plead with him to find his way home. I beg him to forgive me for sending him to the mortal world. How will he ever survive there? How could I banish him without allowing him to explain?

 I scream out with all my dead soul can muster. I scream for him, for what I have done, and for the thorns in my skin.
 
My watch ticks and I hear his voice in my head. "The light is inside you, like an infection. Control it. Use it.”

"How is this possible? How can I hear you?" I strain to see him but my vision is blurring from the pain. My watch is pulsating on my arm, a comforting reminder that Angel is real. I want to ask him why he watched me in my sleep. I want to ask him what he meant about my watch.

"You don't have much time."
 
His voice fades, the watch glows and I am left to figure out how to set myself free. Nearly dead and trapped in my shrine, my watch still glows. I consider my escape and Angel's words.

 A haunted feeling takes shape on the edge of my consciousness. And I remember.

 I was not always a fallen Angel. Once upon a time, I was a little girl. This memory has been obscured by years in this forest. Years of denial and years of pain.
I was once a mortal girl in love. I believed in Fairy tales. I put all of my faith in happily ever after.

 My watch begins to hum the tune of a music box my grandmother gave me for Christmas one year. It all begins to play before me like silent movie. I see my family, my home and my friends. And then suddenly, there is a close-up on Angel’s face. It is my birthday and Angel is giving me my watch as a gift. I am angry because he had forgotten my birthday again, so he gave me a watch as a reminder that he would always remember me. “I am your Angel” was engraved on the back.

I am finding it hard to breathe and my head is spinning with images. I see Angel telling me to leave him alone, to forget him. He has grown cold and seems to have become irritated with me.

I see myself standing in the street as he walks away, looking broken and defeated. And I see his face as he goes. Small tears well at the corner of his eyes but he does not look back. He mutters “It’s for your own good.” I want to reach out to him and stop him from walking away, to ask him what he thought he was protecting me from but the scene plays on. The next image is me taking a handful of pills and falling asleep and Angel falling down dead across town.

So we were here in this place because of me. I consider my deep seated hatred of the living and it occurs to me, Angel loved me. Although I have no memory of arriving in this forest, I know how we came to be here and I am certain that my Angel loved me. I know that to set myself free I must bring myself to tell him that I love him, too. With the last bit of strength I have I whisper to him, “Angel, you are my love. You are my heart. Please forgive me.”
 
I see the glass begin to crack and the vines loosen their grip. The darkness starts to fade. Giant drops of shimmering water seep through the cracks of my shrine and one falls on my wings. It turns the wicked black into a vibrant white. Everything the water touches begins to glow with the white light of Angel’s love.
 
The roses, once black, are now pink. I remember pink was once my favorite color. As the memories of my Angel take shape in my mind, all the evil in my heart recedes. Where there is love, hate has no place. As the final thorn recedes from my flesh, my glass house disintegrates. My Angel's broken wings disappear from sight. I check the box where his tongue was laid to rest and find it empty.
 
 
My dress is white again, my scars have healed. And my horrid broken wings are gone.

I stand alone in my forest and marvel at the beauty I see before me. A rainbow stretches from my feet into the clouds, beckoning me. The trees shimmer with cherry blossoms. Everything is infused with light. Angel’s light.
 
I think of my pain and all of the darkness it brought and I wonder if I will ever find this place again. I allow myself to mourn for a moment, for the world I had grown to know, but I have no more use for this place. The rainbow glitters and wiggles, signaling that it is time to leave. I take one final look at the place I have called home and walk away. It is time to find Angel. I place one foot on the rainbow and turn around once more.

*Resurrection*

 
A little girl plays with her mother in the sand. They giggle and laugh at the shapes in the clouds. Her mother lovingly braids her daughters long red hair so it won't become tangled by the wind. "I think it's time for more sunscreen. I can't have you burn." As her mother applies the lotion to her child's back, she muses over her daughter's strange birthmarks.
 
A little boy loses his ball and runs across the beach to retrieve his treasure.
He asks the little girl to play a game with him. She turns up her nose and replies, "I hate games." He laughs and throws a rusty old watch at her and she promptly fastens it about her tiny wrist. "Keep it safe for me, OK" the little boy says. His mother runs after him cautioning him to be careful.
 
"That's odd", the little boy's mother remarks. "My son has the same birthmarks. They're identical!" Both mothers inspect the long parallel lines that run the length of their babies' shoulder blades, precisely in the spot wings would sprout.
 
"Yes", says the little girls mother. "They've always reminded me of angel wings.”

The little girl kisses her mother's nose and winks. "I'm am an angel, Mama."
 
 
 
 

Author's Note

Anastasia means resurrection in Greek.

Reviews

[WriterMe]

Aha well i for one, would want to know what happens next.
This was a beautiful piece of work. The description was simply breath-taking. The first few paragraphs were very enticing, because your way of describing her waiting death wasnt a least bit omnious. It made the reader want to keep on reading, which what exactly i did.
The narrative bit of it, according to me, was splendid. =]
I think you did a wonderful job.

Still want to know what happens though...
great work =]

--Niki

[I Like it Black]

I really enjoyed reading this, it's very well written. There's a a strong gothic atmosphere running through the imagination of this story. It's quite disturbing in a way, but the intelligence of it goes deeper than that. This is like a fairy tale told by a grown-up, but a grown-up who seems to have lived through -or maybe is still living through- the consequences of the story. The vivid imagining has a kind of blood pumping in its heart which makes it seem personal. Hard to explain, it's just the way it felt. If I'm wrong, I apologize. There is sympathy for both characters, I like that. This is a good idea. And I love the way the story is broken-up into separately named parts. Can't think of much more. Really good in many respects.

[Devons]

This is a really well-written and imaginative piece of work that, although being ostensibly in the fantasy genre, has substantially more to offer in terms of substance. It has an intelligent wisdom and meaning which puts it in the same league as some ancient mythical allegories, parables and legends. The fairy-tale nature of the setting and expressionistic details of the various scenes are conveyed with a quite adult sense of feeling and moral intent. There is a pretty, happy, dream-like ethos (that clearly is derived from the imagination and outlook of Anastasia) that is contrasted with certain nightmarish changes in mood, dependant on the circumstances (the banshees flying wild and the death of the fairies). This is also reflected in the child-like personality of Anastasia, clashing alternately with her mature understanding of what kind of being she actually is and the human nature of Angel. A lot of awareness and understanding is insightfully impressed upon the reader by presenting the frailties of human love and existence (through Anastasia's defensive and blinkered attitude towards the realities of life, resulting in psychological damage and ultimate suicide). This is also displayed via Angel's ambivalent and doubting approach to love. There are elements of irony and revenge prevalent within the story; especially in the way that the roles are somewhat reversed when the lovers are consigned to the forest. A spiritual philosophy, too, is represented in the sense that the 'after-life' the two tainted lovers find themselves in is symbolic, as though they have found themselves transported to some kind of 'astral plain' where they are given the chance to learn valuable lessons and perhaps atone for the mistakes they made on earth. In fact there is an awful lot that could be seen as symbolic within this dark/light world of magic, existential in the effects that the characters' emotions have on their environment.
The ending is quite poignant and effective and, in relation to the 'lessons' they have learnt in the forest, underlines the meaning of the whole surreal scenario of their dream-like world.
It is a very accessible piece of writing, that could encompass many different genres and is probably open to a readership which covers a wide age group. I, for one, enjoyed it very much (not normally being a fan of fantasy) and I would say that this work reads more like an adult or modern fairy tale. Very good work. The language is excellent and well-balanced, and the world that has been created is very clearly and imaginatively detailed.
What I think would be an added enhancement to the presentation would be to title each chapter in terms of the part of the story to which they relate. Also, since the first two chapters employ an outer narrator (as opposed to the subsequent chapters which are from Anastasia's p.o.v.) it would be a finer transition between these narrators and explain why they change.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are amazing. You create a masterpiece with this story. The beginning chapter brought me in with the sadness of two death. Then the story was powerful and strong. Each chapter making the story stronger and better. I enjoyed this story. I desire to read more.Thank you.
Coyote

[Dakota]

It flows well, it's easy to read and I want to know what happens next!

[Scott W. Martin]

First off, so that I can feel like I'm giving an honest review let me just state that I'm not real big on surreal fantasy love stories. One of the first things I noticed is that your writing style is very good. Very poetic and visually stimulating. Your descriptions of events I thought to be consistently good and felt that the story, overall, was well thought out. My biggest problem with the story in general is that I have a very hard time relating to/or understanding the main characters motivations. I wouldn't worry about that to much however as I am pretty sure that I exist on the opposite end of the spectrum from your target audience. Last but not least, clean it up a little. You'd be surprised how utilizing indentations, line breaks and paragraph spacing can improve a story. I edit a lot of my friends writings so let me know if you have any questions.

[nostal]

Nice, well written and interesting.

[Jake Murphy]

Wow..I's all I can say...Amazing work...It's well put together and I beg you to continue this possible masterpeice.

[Sean M. Addams]

very nicely done .. like the storyline in this alot... overall i thought you did a great job... keep up the great writes!!

[~*666 Draven Von Tepes ..]

very nicely written