The fallen angel of death

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I literally cried writing this lol. As October 11 is the national coming out day I want to wish everyone a very happy national coming out day. This piece, it is one of my rare pieces where I have decided to hold back on my imageries and vocabulary. This piece really has less to no imageries because I absolutely loved what I had written and I wanted to keep the raw emotions and the story telling aspect intact. Also, yes I am back with another piece centered around death. So, happy reading!

If you have any views then as always you are welcome to comment as this was more of an experimentation for me^^

Day 11 – Disgusting

#prosaicwhisperer

TW: mild abuse

#review to whoever gets to review this: sorry for such a long piece :skull: 🤧 :heart:

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'You are disgusting' they said.

Disgusting, because I paint my nails in the

psychedelic hues of dying butterflies.

Disgusting, because I dance to memories

floating in the basking sea of dawn,

that people want to bury like a corpse.

Disgusting, because I am not a puppet that

responds to the demands of its puppeteer.

Disgusting, because there words,

the words they throw at me;

to bruise my skin of mental diseases,

those words, they don't affect me.

I toss my coin,

the coin that has two faces,

like the human I once was,

into the fountain of wishes,

to which, I never ask anything.

When the guide of souls came to collect me,

the person who wore the glasses of apathy,

he stood there, looking at me amidst the

cloak of misery that I was building around me.

He ushered my dead body,

in a signal, to tell me I was dead.

As I gathered my surroundings,

seeing that indeed,

my body was of a different size.

The translucent skin had no bruises on it.

My drunk mother,

who yelled obscenities at me everyday,

she had finally been consumed by the monster

that resided in her precious liquor bottle,

and there in the middle of shards of glass,

was my body,

the tiny body that once housed

me like a caged animal,

laid soft and limp,

still and cold,

freezing dead cold.

The body's face was tear stricken,

and as the pleas came back to me,

the pleas I had made a second ago

to her deaf ears,

to leave me alone one last time.

The vows I had made,

to never get in her way again.

The promises, that I would live in the closet;

hide my face from her for infinity,

if she just let me go one last time,

it all came back to me.

It all came back to me,

how she had thrashed her bottle on my head,

how as I was dying,

my breath becoming shallower

with every ing second,

I had made my final plunge.

5-year-old me was not dumb.

5-year-old me knew where to stab a person.

So, 5-year-old me had grabbed

the nearest piece of glass in my last minutes,

and thrust it deep within the monster's heart,

that was disguised as my mother.

As it all came back to me,

I looked around to check and

as if sensing my thoughts,

Mr. Glasses pointed to a bus,

a bus that was called 'trip to hell',

showing me the enger seat

reserved for my dear mother.

I sighed,

the sigh making stars emit from my soul,

and started to walk towards the same bus,

cursing my destiny,

that made me be with her,

even after death.

But I was stopped in my tracks,

as the most delicate finger

brushed my shoulder,

making my heart almost beat again.

I turned around,

and Mr. Glasses was looking

at me with amusement lining his features,

that made him look like my nemesis.

He uttered, finally uttered a word,

'heaven' that sounded something between

human speech and a baby's babble,

but I understood,

and felt an unfamiliar ache in an empty void,

where my heart was supposed to be,

when I thought about never seeing him again.

Which was insane,

because we had just met.

We had no future, for I was dead and he,

he was just a cloud of mist

that would never meet my rainy one again.

He started at me, so much so,

that a crack appeared in his glasses,

but as it did,

he outstretched his hand towards me,

and I took it in a heartbeat.

As he escorted me,

till the golden gate of heaven,

somehow I knew in my translucent being,

that I was getting a special treatment.

As he looked up at me,

finally trying to release me,

another crack appeared in his glasses,

as he ed me a crooked smile.

Fast forward to today,

after a thousand years we come,

as I stroll in the garden of heavens,

the heaven that crowned me as an angel,

and gave me a set of feathers

that were labelled as wings.

I had known it in my bones,

the angel bones that I have now,

that I would never fit in here,

for I was no angel.

It was not hidden that I had killed my mother,

so I was just expected to be another puppet

after being saved from a previous one.

The excuses.

The white lies that these

supposed angels told me.

Sometimes, I was not pure enough,

other times, I was not angelic enough.

Sometimes, I was too disgusting,

other times, I had been given

too much freedom.

So, as I strolled in my favourite garden,

that smelled of serenity

and peace amidst chaos,

I took out a coin that I had

exchanged for some of my feathers.

But, this time, when I dropped it in,

I made a wish.

Wishing upon all my pending ones,

to see my Mr. Glasses once again.

As I dropped the coin,

knowing somewhere in my magic that

it probably won't be fulfilled, I wished,

I could just get a glimpse,

before surrendering myself to be finished.

For I was tired of my long existence,

the existence that ate me a little more everyday.

I was exhausted from all the remarks and

retorts I had to ignore every ing second.

But still, I wished, to see him one last time.

And that night,

when the stars twinkled for my demise,

the moon singing melodies

to please my dying self,

as I was about to kiss the lips of

death once again,

as I neared the pool of fury,

I could feel my beautiful garden

mourning for me.

As I unleashed my wings,

the wings that shined opalescent golden,

the wings that had so many echoes

of memories burnt in them,

the wings that would soon be turned into ashes, I wished, of not becoming a phoenix,

of just dying, as I leaned forward,

about to jump and succumb,

to this black hole that was painted claret.

But just as I was about to reach my goal,

two hands,

the hand that had once guided me

to this mystery of misery,

those two hands,

that I would never forget,

even if I never breathed again,

those two beautiful hands,

enveloped me into an embrace,

as I heard a cracking sound,

only to see, that the glasses

had been completely broken, finally.

My wish had come true,

in my final moments,

I had met the prince that once

wore the glasses of apathy,

and I had broken his glasses for him,

for there he stood,

embracing me,

as if I would evaporate any second.

As I looked up,

to see unshed tears in his

beautiful azure eyes,

my wings ached of unspoken words,

for now they were my heart,

and my heart broke,

because I had made my prince cry.

I cupped his face in my hands,

the hands that were warm on his cold skin,

as I pressed a kiss to his closed lips,

wanting to pour everything that I was into him.

To my surprise, he kissed me back,

so ionate and filled of love,

that the ache in my wings slowly died,

and they started glowing.

As he looked at me,

after leaving me breathless and a little raspy,

he flicked my head and said in a shaky voice,

'never even think of doing that again.'

He stroked my face,

with such tender care,

that my wings shined even more,

the shine that came,

when an angel met his fated one,

making other angels aware.

They gathered near us,

surrounding us with accusing glares,

but one look from my prince,

and they all went on their knees.

He snarled,

barely holding back his hiss,

as he nearly shouted,

'I told you to take care of him.'

The eldest,

the one who had made me the

golden winged angel came forward,

but still bowing down he said,

'forgive us, the king of hell,

for we have committed a sin

deserving of every fury in the universe'

My eyes went wide,

as I realised that my prince was a king,

and not wanting to mingle with

these angels for even a second more,

I whispered to him,

'They had no clue I was doing this,

for I was exhausted of my long existence,

and without you my king,

I had no more reason to live.'

He looked at me,

all fury leaving his eyes

at my gentle touch, as he said,

'My angel, I know the true reasons

behind your actions, and trust me,

I shall not pardon even a single person.

But for now, I beg your pardon,

for letting my foolishness cloud my

judgement and sending you here,

instead of taking you with me,

to my world all those years ago.

But now, I shall correct my mistake,

so angel, will you become

my fallen angel of death?'

There was no paused moment,

no hesitation in the nod that escaped my head,

as tears pricked at my eyes,

like thorns that I welcomed on my skin.

I breathed a shivery 'yes'

amidst the stream of tears,

that was now flowing down like a river.

And so, that was my story,

The story of a fallen angel.

A fallen angel of death.