Redemption

Redemption

This could be New York, Los Angeles, London… or any other city big enough for its shadow to reveal itself and threaten to devour it. Any city that tries to hide its own darkness with shining towers of glass and steel. Any city that has been forsaken by God… or almost. There, in the dark side of the great city, in the shadowland where every moment is a fight for survival, there is a strange sight. A woman is sitting, leaning against the side of one of those once great towers, and crying. Tears are a strange sight here, for tears are pure, and the shadowland tolerates nothing pure, sucking the tears out of the heart long before they ever have time to reach the eyes. The tears run down her face, washing off the dirt, the grime of the shadowland, leaving streaks on her face, while her mind races back, trying to clear the confusion raging inside it.

She had been heading home when she saw the stranger with the black trench coat and shades. They were expensive shades, and she needed the money. It was his fault for coming into this part of town, anyway. So she took the gun from her jacket, crept up behind him, and pressed the steel against his head.

‘Gimme the money, punk, or I’ll blow yer head off’, she said, without too much conviction. She hated doing this. She wasn’t very sure if she’d pull the trigger if he refused… apart from anything else he was… strangely attractive. She shook her head, what was she thinking? She was robbing this stranger!

‘I do not have any money’, he answered, strangely calm, in a voice… in a voice that was so perfect that it had no place in the shadowlands. She paused, and nearly lowered the gun. The sound of that voice seemed to strike at the darkness the shadowland had used to cover her soul, and reveal the inherent wrongness in what she was doing, the inherent wrongness in her. She shivered, but stiffened her resolve.

‘Well hand over the shades… and fast!’, she said, attempting in vain to sound threatening.

‘I do not think it would be a very good idea’, he said, in a voice that tore open her heart and soul. ‘Sinner!’, it screamed, ‘don’t you understand the evil you’re living?’, and said it, not in fury, not in contempt, but with pity, and that hurt more, strangely. The mere sound of his voice was making her fight back tears… who was this guy?

‘Take off the shades’, she said, and wondered if what she wanted was to sell the sunglasses or just to see his eyes.

‘If you wish’, he answered, and sighed ‘maybe you need it’. It was another blow to her heart and mind, but barely remembered compared to what came next.

The man took off the dark glasses covering his eyes, and under them there were not eyes, or at least not eyes in any way she knew them. They were opalescent like twin pearls, glowing softly gold. They seemed to be staring into her soul and judging her, and when she looked into them any trace of darkness and delusion fled their light, and the evil of her actions, of herself, was laid bare. Tears welled in her eyes, tears for the loss of life and justice, the loss of her life, and the injustice of it. She realized he knew everything about her, and pitied her for it. She dropped the gun and ran.

She ran until the tears clouded her vision. She ran from her shadow, her reflection, and from him, because he was holding the mirror. She cried until there were no tears left and, after that, her heart cried on, alone. She stayed like that until she heard footsteps, and looked up.

‘I am sorry I had to do that to you’, he said. He stood there, in front of her, holding the gun out to her. He had the shades back on, and she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

He knelt down and handed her the gun. She took it, numbly, she felt as if she was in a dream. ‘You left your weapon’, he said. He was actually handing her gun back to her, the gun she had pressed to his head. What was he?

‘What are you?’, she asked, not really knowing what she expected as an answer, but certainly not what she got.

He took off the trench coat. Great white wings unfurled, spanning from one side of the street to the other, each feather the most pure and perfect white she had seen in her life. He seemed to be sheathed in white flames, and a blinding light radiated from him, shredding the darkness and making the shadows of that dark place flee from its brilliance. She cowered.

‘An… angel?’, she asked weakly. She need not have, nothing else could ever be so awe-inspiring and yet so peaceful at the same time.

‘Yes’, he answered, but this time the sound of his voice didn’t provoke tears, but something else entirely. ‘When you looked into my eyes all your sins were revealed to you. I am sorry I had to do it, but you will forget it shortly, for you did not look long’

She had put a loaded gun to his head and he was sorry, she couldn’t believe it. Then she realized what she wanted, she didn’t want this moment of lucidity to end, she didn’t want the darkness again, but something else. In a second she was on her feet, in front of him, lifting the shades from his eyes. The golden glow coming from them illuminated the tears running down her face as every sin she had committed was replayed in front of her conscience. Yet she smiled.

‘Love endures’, she whispered, and kissed him.