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| Wait! she thought. There was something hanging from the wall, which looked like it might be of some interest: A piece of metal attached to the crude masonry and a chain hanging from it led to the platform, and under the fluff. If she pulled on it at the wall, would it lead to some secret compartment or a passageway, perhaps? She tried giving it a huge tug, yet it stayed attached to the wall with no event; however, to her surprise, at the other end of it the "fluff" moved, sat up and looked at her! The chain had been attached in double strands of links, leading to cuffs on the wrists of the most beautiful "being" she could ever have imagined--and it appeared to be a man! His face was nearly iridescent, in spite of the near-darkness all around them, or perhaps it was just the candle's reflection off his pale skin and hair. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, because he just laid there propped up on an elbow, staring strangely at her. After realizing she wasn't going to have a heart attack, she still thought it was probably unsafe to be standing so close to the stranger, since it left her in such a vulnerable position. If she could only make it out the door and slam it shut, leaving him inside. But, unfortunately, to her alarm he grabbed her wrist and refused to let her move! Truly terrified now, and feeling that he meant to do her harm, she screamed, "Let me go!" But he did not. She started to cry uncontrollably, falling to her knees on the hard earthen floor. For the hand he held was the one that held the key! As he slowly slid off the stone platform and rose to his feet, he took it from her with very cool composure; which made her tremble with fear and begin to recite The Holy Rosary under her breath, without further prompting, being awed beyond belief. And as she looked up at him, scared out of her wits, she couldn't even think of allowing herself to faint, for fear of what might become of her if she did. Yet, now grasping for her sanity, she saw quite plainly that the fluff around him began to emerge into four gigantic wings: Two on either side--no, six! With the smaller, bottom two, spreading to cover his groin and backside. He stood up to his full majestic measure glowing, eyes flashing in an abundant array of prismatic rainbow-colours: Crystal-blues, radiant golds, dazzling-silvers. His shimmering long flaxen-blond-hair and the feathers on his wings fluffed, like a cat's or a great white bird's in wind that was not there. The shape and features of his face were unfathomably more beautiful than that of what she could have imagined of Adonis's, of whom Venus treasured above all men; and his body, like the perfectly chiseled ancient masterpieces of marble statues in museums. It was now completely understandable why her great-grandmother had spoken of "angels of flesh"; for, truly, this must be one. If she had not believed this, he would have seemed to her to be more of a god from some old legend: Powerful, physical, and not merely one of the soft luminous-looking creatures of love that had become so popular with modern society. The look on his face didn't appear angry though, only inquisitive, bewildered, as he studied her curiously. "Quid modus de mulier sum tu [what manner of woman are you]?" he asked. But, of course, she couldn't understand what he had said. His voice only reminded her of something from The Bible: "... like the sound of many waters ..." a quiet ocean, the sound that comes from a seashell being held to the ear. Obviously, it was not the voice that she had heard coming from the room before, because that had been Ramon's, but she knew that the creature spoke in the same language as he had, even if the words were not really discernible to her. Then it dawned on her: Ramon had been conversing with the "thing"! She continued to pray frantically, except a little louder now, starting to be unable to control her hysteria. "Parada su lagrimas [stop your tears]," the creature now said in Spanish. (Which sounded a little more familiar to her, but she still couldn't understand what he was saying.) Cocking his head with the curious movements of a great bird, as if to listen, he then spoke to her in an older form of her own language: "Lament not in thy tears, O' piteous woman, for thou hath'st not done unto me malice. Thou see'st wondrous much by mine appearance only, but gazeth ye upon me fearing. Yea, of what? Hath I not reason. Wouldth'st thou wert as I and I as thee, ma'haps thou would'st envision ... one of peace. But nay! thou seeth'st thine own death by mine disposal. Alas, ye fearth'st indiscriminately; therefore, arise, les'st ye parish of thine own delusions." This she understood the general gist of, though she was hardly well versed on deciphering old English, so she dared to look him in the eye. "I'm afraid I can't help it!" she exclaimed with a trembling voice. "My God, ... please tell me you are an angel! For if you're not, then vanish from my sight! "By all The Saints in Heaven, why have you decided to show yourself to me, of all people? Please, let me go, because I fear I'll faint any minute now if you don't!" Smiling sweetly the creature gracefully lifted her to her feet with one hand and up onto the platform to be seated, then he took a seat back on it, himself, all the time never releasing his hold on her, as he did so. But, when he saw that she was still shivering with fear and the cold, he covered her gently with one of his large white wings, as a blanket to warm her so she wouldn't go into shock. The next thing she knew, the same thing happened as had happened with Ramon: Instantly, she became warm! The touch of his downy-soft feathers against her skin felt like the sensation of being brushed lightly by ostrich plumes which had been warmed by the sun, and it seemed as though he had exerted some kind of heavenly charm on her, to relax her, for the fear that had been there before was no more. It had been replaced by a comfortable awareness that she must be in the company of something extraordinarily "divine". Yes, he had to be an ... |
| Sample Excerpt From Wrath of Angels: Robin in the Snow by Elizabeth I. Warner (part of Chapter 12) |