[30/01/08]-The Last Innocent-[xxuseless-bulletsxx]
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26 / M / Australia
Posted 1/31/08 , edited 1/31/08
FINISHED!!! I think...... =]

It was the colors that had attracted him to the earth. The vividness and the wild colors that bounded off the bold nature of the earth took his breath away. The air, the wind, the people...it filled him with such wonder and awe. It was such simplicities that humans took for granted which had enthralled him, and he didn’t know why no one else saw what he saw.
His first step on earth...He remembered the gravel crunching under his feet, the jagged stones protruding into his bare feet. The harsh wind ripping through his long hair, whipping strands into his eyes. His black wings flapping free, feathers tousling and stroking the alien wind. The air was heavily laden with the scent of salt and life, and it blanketed him like a caressing embrace as it made its way to the other side of the world. The taste...he remembered the taste so well and he longed for it many times after. It was fresh and pure. It was untainted by civilization and pollution, free of poison and hatred. The taste was like a child’s soul, unbounded by the daily hustle of life, free from earth’s prison.
The tree trunk was the first thing he noticed when he started exploring the wide and curious world. The color caught his eyes and held his marveling gaze. The deep brown swirled within mixtures of shades and flecks of numerous colours, creating a magical affect on the trunk. Tearing bark hung back to reveal pale, vulnerable milky white wood, and beads of weeping sap bubbled from superficial scratches made by possums.
He reached out with his pale white hand to stroke the coarse bark. Yet, he withdrew it, afraid and hesitant. He hadn’t known pain then, but the jagged bits of the bark looked strangely harsh and callous. So he just stood there, heart pounding in time with the cries of the birds nesting in its high branches. Slowly counting.
“Hey you!”
A sharp, angry voice tore the peace open. He recoiled and hugged himself, trying to block out the intruding sound.
“What the hell are you doing in my backyard?”
He warily turned around on the spot, vaguely noticing the grass tearing from their roots as he did so. It was a female human. He studied her silently with inquisitive eyes as she yelled at him. Her voice was painful to his ears and there was perplexity and shock entwining in and out of her audacious words. She had creamy white skin, like tree flesh, he realized. She was delicate yet determined in her ways and her jaw clenched in anger as she talked. Her silky hair was the colour of the sun and it flowed like a halo around her head. Her eyes were a bright startling azure. Destitution and pain shone clearly through them. He wished she would stop staring at him like that. It felt as if her eyes were digging into him like blunt knives. The female was wearing a pure white dress, which was flying out behind her in the wind like a pair of newly formed wings.
Beautiful. That’s it. She was very, much indeed, beautiful.
“Well? Who are you? And what are you doing here?” The female crossed her slender arms across her chest as she waited for his answer.
He cocked his head. Couldn’t she see his wings spread out behind him? Wasn’t it obvious? He took a hesitant step forwards towards her, unclasping his arms.
“I am Gabrielle,” he said.
The female raised a fine eyebrow. “Well, Mr. Gabrielle, what are you doing in my backyard?”
Gabrielle looked behind his shoulder at the tree, and the dappled patterns on his skin it made with the sunlight. “I was looking at your tree.”
The female’s mouth dropped open. “You were looking at my tree?” She gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Great, now I’m stuck with some loony.”
Gabrielle frowned. He wasn’t crazy. He was just curious. And right now, he was curious to why the female couldn’t see his wings.
“Can’t you see them?” He asked her, silently pleading.
“See what?”
Gabrielle motioned at his wings.
The female raised her eyebrows again. “Um...what am I meant to be seeing?”
“My...my wings. Can’t you see them?”
The female sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, look, I have no time to play games. Where do you live?”
“The Morning Star,” he replied.
“Is that the name of your institute then?”
Institute? He couldn’t believe this human. She was absolutely clueless. “No, the Morning Star.”
He pointed to the deep blue dome that stretched out high above them.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe this. Right, Mr. Gabrielle, you’re coming with me and I’ll call the police to come and take you home.”
The female walked towards him and he stepped back, suddenly wary. She smiled reassuringly at him, as if he was only a frightened babe, and she softly took his hand in hers. Gabrielle withdrew his hand quickly, confused. Her hand was soft and gentle, and yet, he had felt a buzzing shock when she touched him.
“It’s alright. My name is Mary by the way.”
She took his hand into hers again and clasped it firmly. Gabrielle trembled as she pulled him towards the great cream colored house. The feeling was strange. Something he had never felt before. As she led him around the house, he contemplated this foreign feeling. It was as if his stomach was being wrenched in two and a deep stirring churning in his chest. Like frothing acid burning through his heart and seeping into his bloodstreams. It hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. A sort of longing and deep restlessness. All because of one female human. A beautiful and mysterious female human.
They had entered the house through a deep russet door, heavy and aged. Gabrielle let out a gasp as he found himself surrounded by crosses and pictures of Angels and Holy Men. The room he was in was bare except for another stilted door leading out and a desk that was propped upright under a window which overlooked the immense tree and the intense sea. The view was amazing, and so was Mary’s clear fascination of God.
Gabrielle felt a warm glow in his chest as he gazed around at the different crosses-all from foreign lands and made of unique material. Mary had let go of his hand and she strode over to the desk which on it, lay a bright rosy red phone. Gabrielle’s gaze lingered on her while she picked up the phone and dialed a number, but his curiousity of the crosses overpowered his longing to watch Mary.
Glass crosses, delicately handled over countries and cities, classic wooden crosses, stone crosses, marble, brass, gold, silver, and a cross that was made of an unfamiliar material. Gabrielle leaned in towards it to try identify the peculiar material but Mary’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Mr. Gabrielle? The police are on their way, so I beg you to just stay here with me until they arrive.”
Gabrielle felt alarmed and he strode over to her and clasped her hands in his own.
“Thank you...but...I am not crazy,” he said softly. If the police took him away...Gabrielle trembled. The thought of being trapped inside behind four solid walls made him shudder with alarm and consternation. He couldn’t imagine not being able to fly and sail along the cool wind currents at all. More than evil, he dreaded the feeling of being trapped, like a wild animal trapped behind sturdy metal bars.
“Well, do you have a place to stay? And I’m sure you have family missing you, wondering where you are.” Her words were heavy with doubt and caution. She pulled her hands out of his, biting her bottom lip. Gabrielle’s heart beat faster and faster as he pulled back Mary’s hand. He felt out of breathe and giddy headed. Was this...Love?
He felt something else for her. Along with the love that pumped through his veins persistently. He could see her apparent loneliness and solitude. He wanted to be here, hold her in his arms, and reassure her. Tell her that God had not abandoned her and that he will stay with her.
“May I ask you something?”
A bewildered nod.
“Your...husband, he is...gone?”
Mary’s head shot up in surprise and she searched his eyes in dismay. “How did you know?”
He smiled sadly. “You are searching for answers, are you not?” He pointed to all the exotic crosses on the walls surrounded them.
“Yes...I am. But I’m not getting any...and...well, He isn’t giving me any signs.” She sighed and gazed out of the window, memories clouding over her azure eyes as she remembered. Gabrielle clasped her hands tighter and he wanted more than anything to help this human. To soothe her pain and her distress.
“We were just newlyweds. This house...we built it together. I...I don’t know how or why it happened, but right before we moved in...” Mary looked down at her feet and he felt her pain as clear as daylight. “He was diagnosed with leukemia. He...he died the year after.” She looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “This year.”
Gabrielle, overcome with love, gathered her shaking form into his arms and held her close. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he murmured reassuringly to her. For a while they stood like that, enfolded within each other’s arms, hearts beating close and steadily. Eventually, Mary stepped back out of his arms and gave him a small tentative smile.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I only met you, and...I don’t even know you. But...” She gave me a puzzled stare. “You’re warm, Mr. Gabrielle. Very warm.”
He smiled at that. “Thank you...But, could you please call me Gabrielle? Just Gabrielle?”
Mary gave him a wry smile. “Alright, Gabrielle. But...it doesn’t really suit you...for some reason.”
He felt his heart stop. Did she know? How could she? Possibly? His real name was only known to him and the One who gave it to him. No one, not even his fellow Holy Beings, knew his real name.
“It isn’t your name, isn’t it?” She smiled at his expression. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me.”
Before Gabrielle could say anything else, he heard a car park outside and the slamming of car doors. His breath caught in his throat. He should have gotten away when he had the chance.
“Oh, they are here. Well, I hope they will find your fami-Gabrielle!”
Mary’s voice rose to a painful and alarmed pitch as Gabrielle sprinted out of the room. He had to go. This was all a big mistake. He ran over to the big tree, panting and in panic. Should he spread open his wings and fly? Right in front of all these humans? It broke so many promises he had made with Him, but...this was an emergency.
“Gabrielle! Come back! These men only want to help you!”
He could see them now. About five policemen and Mary, gaining onto him. He saw with a sickening realization, that those men actually thought they were dealing with an insane person. They were clasping their guns in their hands. He could also see that Mary wasn’t anticipating this and was fearful for him. He felt his heart wrench.
The only way out, was up.
Gabrielle spread out his black seven foot wings against the rising sea wind.
Screams and shouts of confusion tore through the air as he flapped them. It was time to go. He flew up into the air and he looked back down to where Mary stood. Realization dawned upon her face and he saw her slap a hand to her mouth. He knew now, why she couldn’t see his wings before. It was the fact that she had lost all faith and didn’t believe.
“Gabrielle!” He heard her yell. No, it really was time to go.

And then, it was right then when it all went wrong.

Bangs started to crack through the air and his ears burst in agony.
As a Holy Being, he was sensitive to a lot of things. Hearing was one of them.
He stayed aloft in mid-air as he curled up and clutched his ears.
More bangs and he felt scorching lines of bullets whistle past his head.
A sudden explosion of agony and white hot pain burst into his right wing.
He felt it slide through his fragile wing bones.
Hot, raging agony.
Roaring in his ears and deep in his abdomen.
He felt his wings fold underneath him.
And he fell...fell...fell...
The ground rushed up to greet him.
Hands and shouting.
Gabrielle was pulled up onto his feet by rough, awkward hands and he opened his stinging eyes. He saw Mary, pale and shaking. He saw the sky, innocently blue. And he saw the policemen, talking rapidly into their radios and staring fearfully and disgustedly at him.
They had gotten him. He had broken his promise. He was surely exiled from the Morning Star. And he shall never get to love anyone. Not even Mary. He would never see her again.
Through the thick curtain of pain and distress, and as the police were tentatively dragging him towards the large car, he yelled out one last word to Mary. One word that would stay with her forever.
He saw her eyes widen in shock.
“Qutaiba! Qutaiba!” He yelled.
The hands tightened and he struggled feebly as they pushed him into the back of the car. Metal seats, harsh and cold to his eyes. And the door slammed shut behind him. He spun around in a wild panic and his breath caught in his throat as he saw metal bars covering the small window in the thick door. He held his hand up to his injury, trying to stem to blood flow, and all the while, desperately trying to breathe in the sea air that trickled in through the window. He strained his neck trying to see Mary, but he could only see the great tree and the sea.
Qutaiba gave up and he slumped back onto the metal seat, sobbing and shaking. How he hated his inquisitive mind! It led him to all sorts of trouble and this may be the last he ever saw the sky. He felt the car jerk into life and the deep guttural rumbling of the engine. He coughed in disgust as the car fumes seeped in through the window and he slid sideways onto the seat so he was lying down. Weak and hopeless. What was to be his fate? What were the humans going to do to him? The car sped up, jolting and shuddering as it drove down the driveway and onto the main road. The policemen were apprehensive about their prisoner and obviously were frightened and shocked.
Throughout the journey, Qutaiba was dim with pain and anguish. His heart was wrenching into two as he thought about Mary-the beautiful human who he had only met and yet fell in love with.
He thought about his home, Morning Star, and how he would never see the golden light that filled the sky or the happiness and peacefulness that nestled deeply into the air. He thought about his fate and how he feared and despised the fact that his future was in the hands of these human beings.
Feelings raged through him, sinking into his veins like poison. He had never felt these feelings before in his life, and now...now he knew. He knew and he detested and was horrified of it.
But above all, he was terrified of what he might end up having to do.
And he didn’t like it at all.

That room.
He would never forget that room. White, pure white. But it was an evil room, full of evil intention. It was as if the whiteness was taunting him maliciously. The days went by in a vague impression of white, confusion, helplessness, anguish, and above all-pain. His senses dulled by torture and his eyes blinded by darkness and utter despondency. He wanted out. He wanted out so badly, and he thought about it every minute of every day. It was taking over his life-the thoughts of death. So inviting and so...welcoming.
It was another day. Another blur of pain and screaming. Qutaiba had been led to yet another white room, his obedience the result of weeks of torture and testing. His wings dragged behind him on the ground like neglected pieces of old clothing. Once majestic, now covered in dirt, grime and blood. He couldn’t feel them at all. The humans broke them and took away his freedom.
They broke his wings.
His key identity. It was as if they has tore open his heart and stolen some part of his life. His soul.
He was led to a chair, was fastened down with metal cuffs and blinded by black material. The cold metal pressed into his skin, raising goose bumps down his arms. He shivered and squirmed in the chair, waiting in the taunting silence...waiting.
And then, he heard it.
The first screams. Tormented, agonized, and horrifying screams. Throat tearing screams that plunged him into a bout of extreme coldness. He shifted in his chair, trying to distract himself from the tortured screaming, but he couldn’t help but listen to it, ripping into his ears, making his heart twist and turn. He felt warm blood trickle out of his ears as the screams grew louder. Pleads to God and to Jesus had entwined through the air and Qutaiba started to sob loudly, wanting to block out the terrible sounds. Tears ran down his face as the screams went on and on. Soon, his own screams filled the air as his heart wrenched for the poor soul dying in the other room, and he screamed and screamed and screamed....
“Please! Stop it! Make it stop! Make it stop! Oh God...Please make it stop!”
He was sobbing and moaning, his throat raw and his hands bleeding from trying to free himself.
As the horrible sounds started to die down, he slumped back into the chair, exhausted and heartbroken. Rough hands freed him from his bonds and pulled off the mask and yet he saw nothing. All was black before his eyes.

Daybreak found Qutaiba on the cold floor, dried blood caking on his pale face. His eyes glazed over with the lack of sleep and the echoes of the screams still loud in his ears. His limbs trembled as he stared sightlessly at the opposite wall. He had had enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to go through anymore of this, he would surely lose all senses and the last shreds of his sanity. This, was to be his revenge. A devil driven cause, yes. But he felt as though he needed to shock these sadistic angst ridden humans into sense. Sense that would most probably save them from themselves.

“This is Doctor Roger Farrington speaking on the thirtieth of January 2008. The subject had handled Test Number 22-24 FQP very badly. His morality is of high standards and his empathetic sense is extremely overpowering. It is definitely not of human essence. I must say, I did admire him for trying to help the “tortured human”-the screams were purely fake and recorded by actors and professionals-and his senses went in overdrive during the test. His ears had started to bleed-a sure sign of ultra-sensitive hearing-and his mind was in a state of insanity and, should I dare say, agony. His sight had seemed to have dwindled into pure nothingness during these sessions, which is quite mystifying and our top researchers are currently investigating the cause. I am now looking into the subject’s room through the one way glass, and he is sitting up, staring at his hands. He seems to be contemplating something. I...He’s saying something. Hold on...there...he is saying the name Mary over and over again. Mary of course the young widow who found the subject. She had rung the police and asked them to pick the subject up, thinking he was insane. She had called into the institute for quite a long while, hoping to see the subject. However, we would not let her see him. It would ruin everything. But...the woman died about two days ago of cancer, leukemia I think. So, it does not matter anymore...Wait. The subject...he is...he is looking at me! Straight at me! I..I think he can see...no...but how? It’s impossible! He...he’s...talking to me! Wait...”

I stopped the recording and flicked on the microphone.
“What...what is it?” I said, unsure of myself. Was he really staring at me?
“Where...is she?” The subject rasped.
I swallowed. I couldn’t bear look into his dark agony-filled eyes. It was just too...overwhelming.
“I...” I trailed off, not knowing if I wanted to see him in more pain. But he, at least, deserved to know the truth. “She died. Of leukemia.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath and then he let it out, laughing as he did so. He sat still for a long while, in complete silence. I stood shock still, hardly daring to breathe as I watched him. How could he have seen me? It was like staring through a wall! I felt my heart twist as I saw the subject...no, he was an angel, I was certain of it...I watched as he raised a pale hand and rub his eyes. He looked so innocent, and so vulnerable. His long black hair was greasy and lanky, matted down with grime. It stuck to his pale face, like streaks of dark ink. His face...it was very hard to really define what he looked like. But I could see the shadows cast on his face and the blood that was caked over his milky skin. His eyes, so dark and full of despair and pain, and yet...empty and dull. There was this sense of cold calmness about him that unsettled me greatly. I didn’t know what it was...but I felt this tugging urgency in my mind. Telling me something important, shouting at me. Yes, there was definitely something wrong with him.
“Subject...Um, Qutaiba, was it?”
The angel lifted his head wearily and gave me a small smile. “Yes...Qutaiba is my real name...” He said softly.
“Are you...Is something wrong?”
The angel let out a deep breath. “No...nothing...is wrong." He glanced up at me and smiled. "Thank you..."
I looked at him, bewildered.
The angel's eyes lingered on mine and I felt my heart beat faster. Then suddenly, a small sigh esceped his lips and his head dropped forward onto his chest. No breath came out of him. No life stirred in his dull black eyes. And the look of everlasting peacefulness swept across his pale features.

The angel was at peace at last.

"The angel's name was Gabrielle Qutaiba.
Overcome by his strong sense of curiousity and inquisitiveness, he had been lured to earth.
His last act was to give up his own life for someone else.
Someone who he had adored and loved so much.
The angel...so pure and selfless until his last darkest hour.
Amidst the pain and the agony of evil and hatred, he gave out a small light.
A small light which eventually flickered and died.
The light which was the last pure light on earth.
The last pure soul...

The last innocent."

What the World Has Come To...

As the orange gleams break on forest shores
Mountain ranges tremble under the wind’s force
The rusty clouds wail through the deep ocean caverns
And the creatures of the underworld rustle up the courage

War horns blare in the blinding white sun rays
Dust ridden hooves and sweat matted hides
Screaming, snorting, growling, chanting, laughing
The raw foreground of the scene as they all prepare

Angels with silk white sleeves fall from the heavens
A chorus of golden harmony reverberates
Golden hair and cream white skin, beauty that stills the heart
Waiting for the scarlet blood to be spilt on the holy soil

The blackness settles on the floor of the glass cage
Capturing the glows of the children as they sit gazing
Silent and foreboding as the grim play sets the stage
Threatening to overcrowd the gold sand plains

Chaos and fury splinters the law of ruling age
As the great battle commences in the blinding rage
Clashes of metal, flashes of silver an ruby, screams of pain
Determination and the stench of sweat lie thickly on the land

Deafening undefined sounds shatter the air
Excruciating pain and sorrow lace into the pregnant clouds
Hatching together like a makeshift massacre
Sowing the needle of death through cloths of life

Silence and sudden peace rears its weary head
As the great battle ends in a somnolent resonated sigh
An ugly hole crumbles under the strewn bodies
And swallows the trickles of life that run like a stream

An empty victory prevailed on dirty blood
A resounding loss of the reaper that haunts the mass grave
The angels sing forth the spilt souls and deadened eyes
Gathering up the hacked hearts and sodden hair

The holy soil now tainted with black poison
Not a single flicker of life to be seen in the shriveled forests
The frothy sands stained with burgundy of the long forgotten past
Five hundred years of impacted agony and the stench still lingers

But among the ashes of the golden angels
And among the ruins of the hopes and dreams of the world
In the burial grounds of the brave and the foolish
Lies one glorious metaphoric rose...

One Last Question

Do you remember?
When we first met among the empty college gardens
Heavy black rose fumes wafting up like birds
Wavering on the rusting petals like the moon peak
Sliding on the dark storm clouds tearing out the rain

Do you remember?
That first handshake on the dewy wet grass
Dashing and crashing lights on our sodden lanky hair
Silhouetted against the blazing starlight falling down
Straight into the deep shadows that call from below

Do you remember?
That first timid smile you shone to the world
Revolving on its heavy plains like a single wavering voice
In the chorus of billion waves and creatures of the sea
Making creating and emphasizing your soul deep within

Do you remember?
Our first magical fantasy in the land we called home
The tainted moss on our favorite oak tree that swayed
The wind that blew in our faces as we battled demons and evil kings
The adventures, the loss, the gains, and all the magic we shared

Do you remember?
The first song we wrote about the two spirits torn apart by hate
One spirit crashing on the sharp lethal rocks, wrestling and fighting
The other fading slowly into the shadows, wishing for death
The song that reflected our past, present, and future

Do you remember?
The first party we went to hearts racing and eyes glinting
But instead the ground shook and the skies crashed down
That night the light smashed and the music dwindled to a mere whisper
And the thorns shot clean through our hearts and our bloodshot eyes

Do you remember?
Our first trip to the hospital, so clean and white and the stench of death
The sorrow and pain that lingered in the atmosphere
Like stained blood on the murderer’s grey grey carpet
All I saw was the hazy mist that fell before my blind eyes like a veil

Do you remember?
The first funeral we went to was bitter and heart wrenching.
The flowers were all black and the air was covered in grief
Swords killing souls and stilling breaths in one single swipe
And the magic of our love that died with you...

AN=> Hope you all enjoyed that. =] It took me quite a while to write...The last two poems are my favourite that I’ve done, but I really want you to mainly focus of the short story. The themes are obviously love, faith, and staying true to yourself. I chose an angel to be the main character, because I’ve always been so fascinated with them. I wondered, what if a person so pure and holy stepped down into the world of today? What would happen? Would they survive? How would we treat them? These questions ran through my head as I wrote this, and I hope it all sort of makes sense. Yes, I used Crimson-Demon’s name, [Qutaiba], but it’s used with permission. ;] Anyway I hope you have been at least touched in one way or another or moved by my story, because that is why I write. =]

Thank you very much.


366 cr points
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 1/31/08 , edited 1/31/08
Poor guy..

Couldn't Mary say she's his caretaker? ..
2823 cr points
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26 / M / Australia
Posted 1/31/08 , edited 1/31/08
lol. well she really didnt noe what to do. i mean if some person shows up in ur backyard and asks u if u can see his wings, i think u'd assume he's insane. lol. and she's had too much to deal with. i don't think she'd wanted a crazy person to look after. and after she found out he was an angel? well, obviously she coodnt. cos everyone else new he was an angel. lol.

Posted 1/31/08 , edited 1/31/08
u said its based on u and me does that mean ur gonna ditch me when the cops come XD wicked story love *kisses uuuuuuuuuu*
2823 cr points
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26 / M / Australia
Posted 1/31/08 , edited 1/31/08
LMAO NOOOOOO the characters are based on u and me silly. =] love u!

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32 / F
Posted 2/1/08 , edited 2/1/08
Ooooh I like this ^_^!
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26 / M / Australia
Posted 2/1/08 , edited 2/1/08
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