Angel With A Shotgun

She collided with the ground hard, hard enough to break bones and tear ligaments. Hard enough to make the ground shudder at the onslaught. Hard enough to make the foundations of the earth quake at the tragedy that had just taken place.

Obscenities fell from her lips along with blood and bits of flesh, her body trying to repair itself with what little power she had left. Her body ached for the first time in centuries, and she struggled to push herself upright under the weight of all that had just come crashing down on her.

Her left arm was still bleeding; she could feel every fiber of her shirt clinging to the blood and burned skin, the scent of seared flesh not quite drowned out by the rain. Her whole body felt heavy, as though her bones had been incased in lead, and she could do little more than push her face up out of the mud and gulp in deep breaths of damp air. Her back arched under the strain and she screamed as a tendon in her back ripped in two under the weight of her wings. They gave a half-hearted flap, trying to pull her up from the ground, and she whimpered as she collapsed back onto the cold earth below her.

She tried to hold the tears in. She tried to not cry as her muscles mended themselves and bones reset. She tried so hard not to sob when she saw just how dark her wings had become.

Eventually she made it up onto her knees, not trusting her legs to support her full weight all on their own. Her wings curled in protectively around her, trying to keep out as much of the wind and rain as was possible this close to the edge of a cliff. Through the crash of thunder up above her and the cacophony of raindrops on rock and earth she could just make out the sound of waves pounding against the rocks far below her.

She could smell salt on the air, along with so many other things that she had almost forgotten the scent of since the last time she was on earth. But now… Now they would become commonplace, for this was her home now. She had been cast out of Paradise; rejected and ostracized by those she had once called kin.

She looked down at her garment and noticed it had changed as well. Gone was the silk gown of before, and in its place were holsters and holders for her guns and ammunition. She choked on a sob and tilted her head back to stare up into the churning clouds above her, a faint whisper slipping past her shivering lips to whoever might hear her.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

The song “Angel with a Shotgun” belongs to: The Cab


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