I see him in the distance. He knocks the breath out of my lungs. He paralyzes my heart. I cannot do anything but stand there taking in every detail of him. He lies there in the middle of the parched, sandy earth. Blood seeping through his pores as the heat of the desert washes over him. He makes no attempt to move. Bruises riddle his opalescent skin. As, I make an attempt to quietly come closer his eyes open, paralyzing me.
His left eye is a royal blue and his right an eerie crystal green. He lifts his head slightly as he continues to look at me, as if he is seeing everything I think or feel. He doesn't move but I suddenly hear a grotesque velvety voice in my head, "I will permit you to help me." My eyes widened in terror. He was strangely unattractive and almost menacing. As if you knew he was suppose to be beautiful but he was too severe. His high but masculine voice, his overly angled facial features, his orb sided eyes, and his skeletal body seemed to dissuade me from coming closer. Yet, he extended his permission. There was also something about him that made me want to touch him and comfort him.
My mind struggled with the pros and cons of getting down on my knees and trying to lift him to his feet. He was severely wounded, that much was obvious, but he was also an angel. It was very apparent that he was pulsing with power and unearthly strength. The melody of his pounding heart resonated against the walls surrounding us. He did not seem particularly pained, despite the blood pouring from his body from multiple wounds. I could not tell if the cloudy grey wings, he had, were damaged. I also found it odd that we were in such a small and dark area, yet I could see every color and feature of the angel before me. It was his body, almost illuminating from within him.
"Child," He spoke again, in that horrid jaw clenching voice. I looked up to see his long arm outstretched and beckoning me to him. I cringed at the sight of his sickly bruised hands and corkscrewed, long fingernails. I could not refuse him though. My feet started to glide forward of their own accord. I then reach down and touched his face. My arm jolted back in pain, and this time I yelp as the electric spark singes up my arm and down my spine. Unnerved, I look him in the eyes searchingly. He remains still and stares back expectantly. I stand up and take a deep breath before proceeding in trying to help lift him. He winces and sucks in a breath but puts all his effort into getting up. When he is standing I immediately back away from him.
He steadies himself against the side wall. I gasp and cover my mouth as I see half of his left wing is torn off and bleeding. Every single one of his feathers is bent and ripped. I momentarily have the urge to brush my hands gently over them. I resist. Suddenly, he falls to his knees and begins panting as if he is running. I shudder in despair as I watch the scene before me, but I do not make an effort to come forward and help. He clenches his jaw so hard that it snaps like the end of a whistling whip. I cover my ears as the echo gets louder travelling through the small space. His hands go to his neck and start to tighten. A wind swoops down and begins visciously swirling around me, restraining me from going to him. He is gags and gurgles in a fight for air, yet his hands only get continue to tighten. I begin screaming! No one hears me. He releases his hands and finally slumps over.
Tears begin to stream down my face. He is slightly twitching and gasping when I am finally able to reach him. I grab his hand and just continue crying. I hope that he finds comfort in the contact. His voice enters my mind again, "I was Khasiema. Don't forget me."
