Terra Firma

I walked along the dirt path, face down, and the bitter wind slowing me down.

Today my mind wandered in a park. My pain took residence in my mind, and I became lost in the memories of a time when love seemed imminent. .A feather teased my cheek and woke me to the reality of where I was. The soft barbs ticked my cheek, and I looked up at the sky for an explanation. A white cloud of feathers rained down. Catching one in my hand, I crushed the softness between my fingers, and the scent of lavender hit my nostrils. I dropped the feather down the ground and walked past it.

The path in front of me lay covered with a trail of feathers. It reminded me of shaving cream squirted out of a can, winding into a grove of trees, naked limbs stretched out in all directions. I followed the trail. The closer I got to the clearing, the thicker the scent of lavender fragranced the air. I stooped and picked up another feather. Holding it up to the weak sunlight I could see a brilliant rainbow of colors leaped off the barbs. I checked my pocket for holes in the lining, and satisfied nothing would fall out. I shoved the feather in my shirt pocket for safekeeping. I didn’t believe in omens, but this feather needed my protection.

I took the bend in the trail and halted. She lay there in foetal position.

Feathers were everywhere - stuck in her hair, streaming down her back, blanketing her skin like a velvet cape. An ethereal image she made, with her pearl skin and russet hair tumbling in waves of not so robust curls.

Kneeling by her side, I brushed back the curls hiding her face. “Lady, are you all right?”
Eyelids fluttered, thick lashes flashed like fire in the sun, and her eyes opened wide.
I gaped at her black irises, rimmed in gold, captivating eyes that snagged me. In that short moment, I became her willing servant, or maybe, her victim? I frowned, and fought to control my shaking knees. Yet, I knew whatever she’d ask of me, I would do. Even if it meant that I’d give up his last dime.

I removed my thin overcoat and thrust it in her hands.

“What do you want me to do with this?” she asked.

“Well, put it on.”

She struggled into the coat, her arms tangling with the sleeves. I helped her slip her arms through the overcoat.

I could have caught a good glimpse of her from close quarters but preferred to press my desire and averted my eyes, focusing on the dead grass sticking to my knees.

She tilted her head to the side, holding me tight. Her lips turned up into an amused smile, the smile so wide it overtook her face. She was beautiful.

"You’ll help me,” she said.

This was not a question and I leaned back on my haunches.

Another desire came over me to sweep away the loose strands of hair splayed on her cheeks. But I clasped my hands to prevent myself from doing something as incredibly stupid.

I stood up and picked off the feathers stuck to my trousers. A flurry of snow blinded my vision, and I scurried along the path, hugging myself to keep warm. Don’t turn around. Don’t look back. Yet, my heart tugged, and yet again, I didn’t listen to my head, but my heart. I turned around. She remained curled up, her face and toes peeking out from under my coat. I turned back.

Angel hated walking on the treadmill. She’d rather be playing piano at he school, or sweating it out at a dance class. But today, she had to think without distractions. An important decision had to be made.

Raindrops tickled the back of my neck, and I shook out the hood of my gray raincoat before flipping it over the head. A silver feather drifted from the sky and I caught it in my hand. Before I had a chance to wonder where the feather came from, a deluge of feathers drizzled down on my head. When the air cleared, I could see her, crawled on her hands and knees, frantically gathering feathers into her outstretched hand.

I looked around. The path was eerily quiet and it set my heart racing. She inched backwards and looked up. My heart swept up to my throat. She was drenched in dirty.

“You. Come here,” she demanded. “I need your help.”

I shook my head.

“Help me,” she said. “Come on.”

I looked down at her feet, her shoes buried under a carpet of feathers. She knelt down, her hands sinking into the soft pile.

“Who are you?”

“I’ll tell you all about me. Later.” She scanned the canopy of naked trees. “Where am I?”

Ah, this is not good. I told myself.

“No kidding!” she grabbed my wrist and her touch set me on edge. Black eyes blinked from her cutle little face, a sharp nose emphasized her soft cheeks. Long limbed, her body stretched out. Dirt smeared her arms and legs, she smiled at her hands and feet caked in mud. Really, the scene was absurd, but my heart felt lightened.

“I’m a mess! Leave it to me to fall in a puddle of mud,” she grumbled, and wiped her hands on her thighs, smearing dark smudges down her torn trouser legs. “Just my luck. Now, where is he?”

“You need to wash and change your clothes” I said.

“I don’t have any,” she shrugged. “Hey, maybe you can get me something to cover up? How about it?”

“Well, I guess I could. You see, I live close by. I guess I can get you a blanket -- or something.”

“Well, what’re you waiting for?”

“First, tell me who you are?” I enquire.

“Angel, I’ve been with you since the day you were born.”

A ragged grin lit up my face.

“I’m your guardian angel. A bit rough around the edges, but,” she threw out her arms. “I’m all yours.” She peered down at her muddy feet. “I’m in a rather - ah - awkward position.” Her dark, black eyes darkened, and her skin turned a deeper shade.

How strange for an angel to be embarrassed. “What’s with the feathers?” I asked.

Unfortunately, those were my wings.”

“Oh my God, will you be okay?”

“Sure, they’ll grow back.”

“But why are they gray?”

“I prefer silver to gray. Not all angels have white wings.”

“But, gray?”

“Silver,” she emphasized, and shook her head. Her voice rose with annoyance. “My mate should be somewhere around here?” She stood up and picked at the dirt under her nails with a quill.

I stuttered at the glorious shape of the half-naked Angel.

“You -- you shouldn’t stand up like that.” I said.

Angel picked up her pace, and tried hard to fly. Her wings wouldn't let her fly!

It was ludicrous to believe in angels. But, who broke her wings?