Pity of an Angel 1
#1 of Pity of an Angel
Disclaimer- this section of this story contains strong language and violence, if you are offended by this concept, then I advise you find another story, I won't be held accountable for you decisions. All characters are copyright to me, I don't care if you use their names or descriptions, but it would be appreciated that you cite them back to me. Any resemblance this story and/or its characters may show to anyone, living or dead, or any other story is purely coincidental. I have yet to decide to have any yiff in this story, so for those of you who are reading this only for that, don't give your hopes up. If for some reason you choose to contact me, either for criticism or praise, don't expect a reply.
Pity of an angel
-1-
Upon this earth, souls depict the idea of fait. Is it up to the life of one to decide what rout to take, and to always hope that this path leads to eternal bliss in heaven where they will live in eternity in their own privet idea of rapture, and in the presence of their lord; or is fait controlled by that very deity to which one can have all the hopes of prosperity and happiness, only to get rundown by some drunk driver on fourth and main. To live a long, happy life is all one truly wants, but, somewhere on this rock, one of many has decided that death is preferred over life.
He finds himself here, alone in the dark, pressing a blade against his wrist, blood already staining the steel as he prepares to perform the simple motion. He grips the knife tightly, seeing himself in the reflection of the cold metal, telling himself this is the only answer, the only choice he has to cast away the pain. He had spoken silently to those willing to listen, not with words, but with lyrics, poetry that had divulged the depths of his inner being; but no one heard the young otter's pleas, no one could see the pain deep within him. No one cared.
"and from my wrists... my blood will spray..." he chanted quietly the last verse of a poem he had scratched into the doorframe outside the room, just waiting for those who pass by. "and all my worries... will wash away..."
The blade glided across his wrist, slicing his fur and skin as if it was merely air. A red mist engulfed him, beads of blood gathered on his face and body as his teeth clutched tightly, the knife left his paw, striking the ground as his paw now clutched his blood soaked wrist. "I'll just bleed to death " he thought, opening his eyes and seeing his blood pour through his fingers and bathe the ground around him in a deep red pool. "that's not fast enough "
His red stained paw grasped the knife once more as he held it out in front of him; his other, somewhat disabled paw holding the butt of the knife. He took in a deep breath and slammed the blade into his stomach; it tore through his muscle and intestines as it slid in, ripping apart the tissue and flesh. He leaned forward in that instance; his mouth hung open and short gasps left his throat. He fell, hitting the floor on his side, the jerk twisting the blade inside him as he hit. He inhaled again as the sudden sharp pain went through him, gasping for air and unable to release the knife or even move. Then pounding came from the door, someone yelling and crying for him to let them in. His breath slowly left him as his grip on the knife loosened, his body began to relax. His eyes stared blankly at the door as it burst open, casting a bright light into the once pitch black room. Two dark figures entered the room, one cupping their paws over their mouth and butted against the wall, the other running up to him. Sounds of screaming and crying slowly faded away; through his eyes, the brown eyes of the figure stared back, then the scene faded to white. The darkness was gone, the two had vanished, and the room left him in a blinding flash of light.
The otter laid in an endless white, his breathing returned and he blinked. The knife was gone, he no longer lay in a puddle of his own blood, and his fur was clean and unscarred by the knife's edge. He sat up slowly, looking around him and feeling his wrist for a slit that wasn't there.
"hello Sindain"
He jumped to his feet and turned around to see an otter standing before him, her white gown flowed across the non-existent floor as she approached him, her movements slow and calm. He stepped back, confused with being in the presence of and angel then that of a demon.
"I've been watching you, Sindain," she said, stepping closer. "Since the day of you birth; I was there." He looked oddly at her.
"What, you're like my guardian angel?" he asked.
"Yes, you can think of me in that way. I've watched over you since the beginning when your mother died during your birth." She said, peering into his eyes, her paws in front of her. He said nothing. "and ever since."
"Ever since? Where were you then, huh? Where the fuck were you when my father died in front of me?!" he cried, throwing his paw out to the side in a fit of rage. "Where were you when I descended into my own privet hell?!" He began to cry a little, his tears quickly disappearing into the white. "where were you when I died alone "
She was silent.
"I know the sentence, just send me to hell " he said, crossing his arms and looking away, turning his back on her. She stepped up behind him, placing her paw on his shoulder and moving to his side.
"Your life shouldn't have ended, Sindain." She said into his ear, her voice a calming ton in his mind, "not this early. Though with all the pain and suffering you've endured, you could have had a great life; if, of course, you hadn't had chose to end it." He looked at her.
"What are you saying?" he asked.
"I'm granting you a chance, an opportunity to spend your after life in bliss, then in hell " she said, sliding her paw from him and stepping around him.
"You're sending me back? Back to all the pain?" He asked, watching her was she circled him with her paws behind her back.
"Yes, but do not think of the pain, use this chance to change your fait, find what your life could have been, then, perhaps, you'll be forgiven for your decision." She said, stepping up to him.
He looked down, wondering why he was being given this gift. "I suspect I won't be given the rest of my life back?"
She smiled, "we will see each other again in three days time, within those three days, you will retain your body, mind, and soul. And upon the third day, at exactly midnight that night, you will sleep, and not wake up again."
She placed both her paws on his shoulders and pulled him close, he wasn't reluctant to comply with her action. He looked into her eyes, they were a dark green reflection of his, glistening in the light that surrounded them.
"I have just one question " he said as she drew closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"yes?" she asked, now close enough to him that they were as one in the light.
"what happened to your wings?" he asked, feeling uneasy but deciding to wrap his arms around her back.
She smiled again, pressing close against him, 'I'll tell you when you come home " she said, then kissed him on the forehead; and, like with the figures in the room, they were engulfed in the light around them.
The otter woke up in confusion and dismay, sitting up fast on the cold metal table he lay on, pulling off a blood soaked white sheet the covered his body and throwing it to the floor, his breathing strong and raspy. He looked around and saw he was in the morgue of some hospital, other tables with bodies covered by sheets were all around him, and a certain frightened lynx pressing up against the back wall, dressed in white and his paw gripping at his chest as the otter looked over at him.
"Shit! Your alive!?"