Rainbows

Walking down this street, it's hard to imagine that humans were once considered the purist things to ever exist. there is death at every corner, chains of suffering binding the occupants. The pungent smell of rotting flesh drifts by my nose, and I wonder whether it's source is one of the many beggars I see squatting by the walls, or a far more unsavoury option hidden in the depths of one of the alleyways. The burning of my fag briefly covers it, but I know that the cells of my nose and tongue can never die enough for me to be free of it.
I sigh a puff of lethal smoke, not even bothering to remove the dangling cig from my lips before I drag from it again. Grimmness has filled my thoughts these past few years. I think I may have to start anew, break my promise sealed in colours all those many millenia ago, and drown the demons that my favorite creation have become.
This examination of the modern-day wasn't even my idea. sariel was the one who first brought the thought to my notice. My Watcher, beautiful in so many ways, and yet he fell once. I suppose that has made me wary of him, and I placed his concern to the side. He asked to be renamed Zerachiel then, and I again ignored what should have been a worrying change. It was only when Raguel and Chamuel approached me that I truely listened, and I know that pained my Watcher greatly.
Even I make mistakes.
And it seems I have made a terrible mistake, giving this untried race stewardship of my masterpiece. They have destroyed it. Tainted it to its very core. I cannot abide them here, ruining something so beautiful anymore.
There is nothing left to salvage.
"Gosh sir, you sure don't look happy."
She stands before me, head cocked and tilted upwards as her grey eyes stare into mine. There is no perfection to her; large pores mar rosy cheeks, stringy hair is swept back into a ponytail. She is thin, too thin; the sundress she wears exposes her protuding shoulder bones and emphasizes the deep hollows in her arms. A sickness ravages her, eating away at her insides like her kind gnaws at my creation.
She has little longer left.
"Are you okay?" Her voice is strong though, proud and lilting in the way that tells you she laughs often. A bag is slung over her shoulder, and a strange smell emits from it.
I realise she is waiting for an answer, and lift my hand to take the nearly finished smoke from my mouth.
"I am fine," is all I say, as I drop the butt to the already tarnished floor, not caring enough about the planet whose fate I have already decided to stamp it out. She stares at it disgustedly for a moment, then stamps one dainty trainered foot down on top of it, ending my faint relief from the pervading scent of this place.
It interests me. I raise one eyebrow in silent question, but she simply smiles and shifts the bag slightly. A frown suddenly brings her lips down again.
"Well you don't look fine," she passes judgement, then reaches forward and grabs my hand. "Come on!"
I do not know why I allow her to drag me back down the street I had nearly exited, though Zadkiel always bears a faint grin on his lips when I ask him of it.
And as I am dragged along behind her, sunlight floods the darkness.
The beggars stand up and walk towards us, laughter in their smiles and joyful calls of "Laura!" stopping the girl in her tracks. A few doors open, and I see children flooding out onto the street, anxious mothers following behind them, delicate curves to their lips threatening to break their fragile souls.
She cheerfully embraces them all; tiny grubby hands clinging to her dress while larger, dirtier hands pat her on the shoulders, owners blessing her soul. Her arm raches back to pull the bag from her bony shoulder, and she opens it to reveal plastic tubs of steaming stew; the smell I could scent earlier. A cheer goes up, and she laughs as the children race back inside to grab bowls for everyone.
I am shocked. This street where death prevailed has suddenly become a place of beauty and light. I can feel the uplift in souls and the flicker of warmth in hearts. Each one takes his happinedd and passes it along, as the mismatched bunch drive the children to front and smilingly hands their food to another.
She turns to me, a last bowl of hot stwe in her hands, which she profers to me.
"Try it," she smiles, "It's good!"
"What of you?" I ask, fingers alipping forward to have their chill chased away.
"Ah, I've already had something," she lies, and I know that if she ate it she would be unable to hold it within her ravaged body.
I take it, and someone else hands me a spoon, telling me he will wait until I am done to use it. A thanks has him guffawing, telling me I should direct it elsewhere, as his eyes shift meaningfully towards her. The corner of my lips curl upwards, and I turn to her to find her talking to another.
She has not forgotten me, but she will not starve them of her company, even for a newcomer. I direct my attention to the bowl, and warily try a spoonful.
She is right. It is good. Heart and soul have gone into its making, and love has left it even tastier than before. A wave of appreciation runs through me, and I begin to eat with a small smile on my lips.
It is late, when she finally listens to the others who exclaim that she must be home before dark; late enough that the sun has begun to drop towards the horizon. I walk away silently, and find her suddenly beside me with the calls of farewell fading behind us. No words pass between us at first, and the silence is comfortable in our content.
"Are you feeling better now?" she asks, startling me slightly.
I glance down at her, noticing the overwhelming exhaustionthat is beginning to crash down on the too thin shoulders.
"Why do you do it?" It is a better question that I have asked.
"Do what?" the grey eyes blink up at me confusedly.
"That?"
She stops suddenly, and I swing around to see her gazing up at the slowly pinkening sky. "I am going to die soon," she tells me matter-of-factly. "I am only fifteen, and about to die," she contemplates something silently for a moment. "And yet," she tilts her head to stare at me now, "I have had more brightness in my life than those people ever will."
She fiddles with her ear, and a glint of silver reveals the cross earring I had not noticed before. "So many people tell me that God has forsaken us, left us to the darkness. They tell me He has given up on us; that there is too much ugliness for Him to do anything about it. They say He has left us for something better," she muses.
A bitter chill has frozen my heart.
"But," and I turn my hopes to her once again. "But I think, and laugh at me all you want, but I think that God did not put us here so we could come whining to Him everytime something goes wrong in our lives, but so that we can bring life into our darkness ourselves. He gave us free-will, and to solve our problems would be destroying that free-will," she bring her hands hand down from the earring and touches her head, chest and shoulders in a cross. "Just as we baptise ourselves, so we should continue to cleanse ourselves of our sin throughout our lives, and bring the light into our world.
For a moment, there is only silence.
Then a cacaphony of sounds.
birds sing a song of harmony, joined by the sharp calls of dogs and cats. A fox yips somewhere nearby, and the very molecules of the world vibrate the notes of a song only I can hear. She gasps in surprise and wonder, and I feel the great fronds of my entanglement in this Earth suddenly burst forth a joyous release of words and sounds, each one searching out and telling me of more souls like hers.
For the first time in many years, a truely happy soft smile rests upon my face, and I feel more than see her stare in amazement as the entirety of my Prescence reaches up and clears the sky of clouds.
"I have made my judgement," the words ring out in many languages, tones, pitches, frequencies, everything!
Lights dance through the sky. The Aurora sweeps over everything, leaving traces of its beautiful magic all across the Earth. Jeremiel leads my Choirs in song, Uriel bringing up the healing plants of the world.
My Michael, dearest of my heart, sheathes his flaming sword and lays down to finally rest.
Bands of colour twine themselves across every village, city and town, arcing high above the awed people who stare up at them, slack-jawed in wonder.
I look down from the iridescent rainbow that traverses the twilight above us, and gaze at the amazed girl before me. Light swells in my heart, and I reach out towards her, irradicating the vile pitch blackness that twists her body. I touch her soul, and release the wings that I know to be hers unto the beauty I find there. Ikael, she would be named, when I raised her from mortal bonds to stand amongst my Heavenly Host.
"My Promise," I whisper, and she turns towards me, the aura of the new appendages sweeping above and beyond her.
"My promise to you."