Angel Of Darkness

17:Risk V.S. Reward

I spend the next year traveling and avoiding trouble when I can but in these small under developed towns in the midwest that's harder than it sounds. I've become a sort of modern myth. Merely a whisper on the street on the person who hides in the shadows and takes back what was stolen, children, money, food ect... Some say that I'm an angle, more often then not I'm called something along the lines of devil spawn in a language that I've only just started to grasp. When the whispers grow into open chatter and I spot Natasha I know that it's time to move on. So I hitch a ride on the next truck going out of town and ride it for as long as possible before finding another town where I can stay. I rely on the kindness of the elders most of the time because I've found that they are almost always accommodating of a new face. Most of the time they asking me to tell stories of my travel in exchange for food and a place to rest my head for a few weeks. They find me fascinating since most of them have never left their tiny villages in their entire life time, and those who have left never leave for good reasons. Some tell me how they left because of war, and how they were put of the front lines of a fight that they didn't wish to be in. They show me scars from bullets, or missing limbs from bombs or shrapnel that couldn't be removed.

One of the elderly woman told me tales of being chased from her village by men with torches, and how the fear that she felt that night has never gone away. She told me of how she watched the men take her younger sister away and murder her while she hid in the shadows only a few meters away, unable to save or help her. She whispered to me about how her night terrors cause her to rise in the early hours of the morning with her heart beating out of her chest. In return I told her how I felt the same and that this is why I travel, I told her how I can no longer tell if I'm running towards something, or away from an unchangeable past. I speak vaguely of the torture that I endured and show her the multiple scars that a bare, I tell her how I watched my younger brothers life be stolen from him right before my eyes. I told her of the deep fear of being taken away and forced through every thing again. I find my self spending more early mornings with this woman than I do nights asleep. She has all of the other elder women over for dinner every monday night and they stay for hours. In time they all share their own heart breaks and triumphs with me and the others. I tell them what some already know, my fear of being taken back where I came from.

Two mondays later the elderly women come in but as soon as dinner starts one of the younger ones clear her throat causing us all to look at her. She told me how I need to run once again, she told me of a woman with bright red hair and pale skin is looking for someone who vaguely fits my description. So before I could even put my fork down the women are gathering around my and changing my appearance. A couple set to work on trimming me hair so that it barely touches my chin, others set to work on changing my clothes making them look less American and more traditional, while others pack my bag and food for the road. I left less then an hour later after they had wished me safe travels and had said good bye properly. I had thanked them for their kindness, and for sharing with me what they had shared with no one. I had promised to be safe in my never ending travels and the elderly woman who took me in had given me advice. Something along the lines of "Sometimes in order to move forward, you must go back to where It all began.

When I left their village I heeded her advice and tell made myself a portal to the small town where I grew up, and began my life all over once again.

About a month later

I've found my self working for a small surf shack on the south coast of California, with a small apartment, and with the attention of one of the surfers who apparently fancies me according to his friends.

"Um miss?" I snap my self out of my trance and plaster a smile on my face as I look at the costumer.

"I'm so sorry dude I had zoned out, what can I help you with today?" I ask as I look at the guys darkly tamed skin and the tacky tribal tattoos that he probably thought were a good idea at the time.