Her Angels.

A short story.

Whenever I write a story that's slightly out of place or weird, I feel the need to justify it or apologise for it in the Introduction. I really need to get over that.

This is just something.

Chapter 1

by: _Ripple_
“Everyone gets to see an angel before they die. I know it’s true.”

“You don’t know nothing. Quit acting like you do; like you’re so much better than me.”

“It’s true though! All of the old people- they’ve all seen them! At least, all the ones I know.”

“They’re crazy though, ain’t they? It’s what happens when you get older, you lose it and see things that ain’t there all over the place.”

“They’re not crazy! Our Grandma’s seen one. Mum told me all about it years ago.”

“Bullshit. My Mother ain’t told you nothing she didn’t tell me.”

“Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“You don’t need me to tell you what you are.”

“I’m not a liar! I’m really not!”

“I guess you’ve seen one of these Angels then?”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe in them! They’re real! I know they’re real!”

“You ain’t got proof! You’re just repeating what some old nutcase told you!”

“No! I…I wasn’t told. They visited me! I’ve seen them!”

There was dead silence for a moment while the older girl stared at her younger counterpart in shock.

“That’s dumb. That’s just dumb. You don’t go telling lies like that. People see straight through it.”

There were tears in the younger girl’s eyes as she spoke.

“Please don’t…it’s the truth, I swear. They come to me all the time, and they told…they told me not to say anything, but I thought telling you would be alright…I mean, since you’re…since you’re my sister.”

“You…they what? They come to you more than once? Are you…you’re just bullshittin’ me, right?”

Her younger sister shook her head, so that tears flew from the end of her nose.

“No…they- they come all of the time. They came again the night before last. I swear. I swear I’m not lying.”

“You swear?”

“Yes!”

The eldest narrowed her eyes, a sense of foreboding creeping into her. She had stopped believing in Angels and the like years ago, as she had hoped her sister would, so what the hell had been visiting her?

“Have you…did you tell Mum about this?”

Her sister shook her head again, sniffing.

“She wouldn’t believe me. She’s just like you.”

“You’re dumb. You shoulda’ told Mum that you had weirdos visitin’ you.”

“They’re not weirdos! Don’t- please don’t call them that!”

“Angels? You want me to call them Angels?”

“Yes- please!”

“I ain’t gonna call them what they’re not. There’s no such thing as Angels! Get it? Either you’ve got something wrong with your head, or some fvcking creepy-”

“Stop! Please, just stop! You don’t know! You don’t know what they’ll do to you! I should never have told you about anything!”

“No- you shoulda told Mum! Shit, if you’re going crazy and I’m the one who has to let Mum know…”

The youngest was outraged.

“I’m not crazy! You don’t know anything! You don’t know! You don’t know!”

The eldest grasped her sister’s shoulders, her fingernails digging into her skin as she squirmed for freedom.

“Calm down. Just calm the fvck down.”

The youngest stopped trying to break free, and their eyes met for a moment. The eldest relaxed a little, and suddenly she saw a flurry of movement and white-hot pain flashed across the side of her face. She recoiled.

“I hate you! You don’t know! Just shut up and pretend I didn’t tell you anything!”

Before the eldest could react, her sister was gone, darting up the stairs and into the confinement of her bedroom.



The youngest ran, unable to gather up the courage to turn and slam her bedroom door shut, for fear of what stood behind her, and hid behind the bed. There she crouched on the floor and wept. She heard her sister calling, and risked a glance towards the door. In that same instant, one of her Angel’s appeared. It was naked, but for the leather band on its wrist where demonic replicas of carrion birds sometimes perched. Its skin was thick and flaking, revealing in places the black pus that lay beneath the skin’s deep red surface. Black, leathery wings sliced through the skin, jagged and worn. The bird-like hands were tipped with claws, covered in dirt and blood and other unspeakable or unnameable substances, but sharp enough to slice through her skin as though it were butter. The head perched atop an elongated neck, and bore several long, uneven scars that ran from the eyes and curved around the side of the face. There were no lips, but the skin around the mouth curled back in a sneer to reveal rows of teeth, small and sharp and growing from every inch of the mouth. The nose was long and flat, almost like that of a cat, and above it were the eyes, small and black, and they bore into her own, seeming to reflect the hatred and fear that they could no doubt sense in the chambers of her soul.

This was her Angel.

It reached out a rotting, stale hand, and swung the door shut. Then, it was gone.

That was how it always was when they came. They existed only for as long as it took them to perform the action they needed to perform, and then they were gone. There was no sound, no flash of light or rush of heat; it was as though the air around it had simply swallowed it whole.

She wished that were true. She wished something, anything, would swallow them whole and take them away forever, because they knew she had done them wrong.

“I’m sorry!”

Her voice was broken and pleading.

“Regrets do not justify actions.”

Its voice was like the grinding of nails. Cold. Hoarse. It came from the centre of her head.

“I’ll tell her I was lying! I’ll pretend I’m crazy! Please- I didn’t mean it!”

Her voice sounded frantic already. Its voice always made her frantic.

“You will tell her nothing. She has been silenced.”

Its voice was expressionless as ever.

“No! What did you do? Tell me you didn’t hurt her!”

Insane. Desperate. She was clutching at straws, and it showed in her voice.

“We do not lie.”

Blank. Emotionless. It was the voice of a corpse.

“No! No, no, no! You can’t hurt her! You can’t!”

Her voice faded into a scream. She spun around, knowing one of them was about to appear, but where, she had no idea. She turned again, and caught a glimpse of it as it darted behind her. She tried to scream, but pressure was being applied to her throat before she could draw breath, and then it was there, its greasy right arm outstretched and wrapped around her throat. It forced her to her knees, and pressed its face close to hers. This time when the voice spoke, it was louder than ever before, and seemed to occupy the entirety of her head, rather than snaking out from the centre of her skull.

“That was not your task. We have others to spread the lie, but not you. Your task was to serve.”

It tightened its grip around her throat, and she gagged. Her head was throbbing now.

“You are finished.”

There was a spark of life in its voice as it spoke, but what exactly it was, she could not tell. It could have been glee, but she had the strange feeling that it was something almost like regret.

Her vision was fading to black, now, and the defining lines of her bedroom were growing fainter and fainter. Still, she could make out the outline of the creature that gripped her. It had come to kill her, and it would leave only when it had carried out its task.

For the last time, she felt its grip tighten. She could feel its skin digging into hers, almost at the point of drawing blood. She was leaving, now. Finally ending. Finally being drawn away, faster every moment. She gave up her sight, and her mind scattered.

Her Angel disappeared as the youngest joined her sister.

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