The Sequel to Wings

I was on a silent flight.

I flew through the air, quietly, on wings that were large and silent. I didn't know where I was headed, but something told me to fly here. Like I would be needed. I glided silently in the air, thinking to myself.

I hadn't had a bad flight. I had been tossed into the air years ago, and my wings had pretty much held me aloft. Once in a while, they tipped off balance, and I had to struggle to return to my flight. I had had a few rises, a few dips. I remembered when I once got shoved into a dangerous tailspin by a rejection, that made me hurt and left a pain inside that I still had. But I had somewhat straightened out, and my flight was even again.

I wasn't sure why I had felt the tug to this area, to this place in time and these people that I knew and hung with. They were all nice, in their own way, but I could tell that none of them were the tug that I felt that had drawn me here.

I looked around, watching the couples flying around me. They all seemed content and happy. I wanted to fly with them. But no one was willing to fly with me. I sighed, hovering, watching them fly, and wishing I could was up there with them in those high heavens.

And then I saw that explosion. It shook the skies, sending a massive shock wave through the air. It almost sent me reeling. A fear came over me, a frightening sense of dread. That explosion—that virtual supernova that had both darkened and lit up the sky with a sort of disturbing enigma—that loud scream of agony tore at me. And it echoed in my head, like a constant ringing in my ears, a haunting melody. I had to go to that scream. I had to stop that sound.

Before anyone could stop me, I had taken off towards that bright but dark flash. I could still hear the screams, the agonizing heart wrenching cries of pain and release. I had to fly. Something made me fly with a speed and fever that I had never had. Something had caused that explosion, and I knew I had to find the source.

I got there almost a second too late. I saw a mass of dark feathers, like a cloud, and a redness that soaked the air. There was a smell of blood, of depression, and of fear. In the air, I felt a former darkness, dissipating into the air and leaving the area. The air was thick, almost choking, and I had to beat my wings to try and throw the smell and suffocating aura. The air finally cleared, and I could see, with my watering eyes.

There was another scream, almost a wail. It was below me, and I looked down. There was a figure, plummeting towards rocks that held many dead and bleeding at the bottom. It was a girl—a frightened girl stained with blood, tumbling and falling as if she was never going to rise again. Behind her, on her back, were a pair of black structures, messy and ruined. The people speared and crushed on the jagged, merciless rocks would never move again, that I could tell. They were lost forever. Whatever had caused their plummet had done its job, and they were not my concern. I didn't know why they were there, but I knew one thing within me that was true.

I couldn't let her hit those rocks.

I dropped into a headfirst dive, plummeting faster that I believed she was falling. I pressed my wings flat to my back, the wind zooming past me so fast I could hear it ripping past. I had to fall faster and faster. She cried, her hands up, as if she was begging someone to catch her. I saw some people hover there and watch her fall, some make grasps that didn't hold, some throw her off with unconcern and some try to hold her and receive only backlash. I saw all this, and saw that she might try to drag me down with her. But still, I had to take a chance. I plummeted, fast as I could, falling past all those people and never really seeing them. I strained to fall faster. She just couldn't hit the ground.

And seconds before I knew she would be out of my grasp forever, I caught her. My hand caught her wrist, and I pulled her into my arms before she could pull away.

She didn't fight me. Some inside her made her cling to me, her eyes squeezed shut in fright. I didn't look at her at first—I just knew that we had to get away from those rocks before they claimed both of us in that dive.

I didn't even stop my momentum. I opened my wings and let the updraft catch us two, turning up as fast as I had fallen, gliding up and lifting us away from those rocks, where the smell of death hung in the air. I had just caught her in time—a second later and those death rocks would have caught her, taking her away from me before I would have even known who she was. I beat my wings with everything inside me I had, and I lifted her away from that space that had wanted to claim her. I flew on and on, while she held on, not even daring to look me in the face. I didn't know what had possessed me to catch her, but I had done so.

Finally, when I knew it was safe, I spoke to her. I whispered at her, the simplest greeting I knew of. "Hello."

She shook, still frightened. Then she tilted her face up and looked at me. The things behind her, black and ripped—I finally discovered they were ripped wings, hanging behind her and dead, the remains of something that might have been beautiful once and were now matted with blood. Her dark clothes were ripped and messy, covered in the same blood as her wings, and the tears that flowed from her eyes were red tinted with blood. She struggled to breathe as if she was fighting for every breath, like her lungs were locked up. She sniffed between her ragged breathing, her wide eyes looking at me. They were the most beautiful light brown eyes I had ever seen. We started into each other eyes, then she ducked her face and blushed badly. Then she started shaking again. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw what she was looking at—the rocks there, with their dead. And I knew she was thinking to herself that she could have hit those rocks. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she trembled. Then she looked at my eyes, and she started to calm down somewhat. Her breathing slowed, and she continued to look at me with those brown eyes of hers.

I wanted to reassure her that she was safe, that I would keep her safe. So I smiled at her softly, and spoke again. "Well, are you going to talk to me or do I just get the pleasure of looking at you? Not that I object." I started blushing after I said that—the compliment had just came to me. I didn't compliment people, especially if I had no idea who they were. But it had come out of me as if I just saved the lives of pretty girls everyday and then complimented them. She blushed just as badly as I did, smiling a little. Something told me she hadn't heard a lot of praise in her life.

I couldn't hover with her forever. I could have held her up for eternity, but I knew I needed to take care of her injuries. So I found a tree, off at the side, and flew towards it, I carefully landed on it, then set her down in my lap without letting her go. She eased and relaxed somewhat, then stiffened, a hiss of pain coming to her lips as her wings trembled.

"You're hurt," I said. It didn't matter I still didn't know who she was. She was hurt, and she needed my help. I reached out to touch one of her wings, and she whimpered and shrank back, as if she was scared I would hurt her. I made sure my touch was gentle, pulling up all I had inside me to heal those wings of hers. The mass of blackness and dried blood practically flaked off under my hands, as if underneath her wings were remaking themselves with my touch. She started to breathe lighter, more peacefully, and she almost purred as I dusted off the blackness that coated her. As I touched her, brushing away all the blackness and darkness on her, her wings started to heal and pull themselves together, then started to move weakly and hesitantly, as if she hadn't moved them in years of her own free will. I felt the wings start to want to hold her up, but she still couldn't fly alone. So I held on to her, keeping her with me, making sure every inch of blackness was off her. I brushed away all those bloody tears, all the mess on her clothes, I cleaned her up using nothing but my hands and my concern about her. And her clothes became white again, her eyes lit up, and a calm glow settled over her like she was finally at peace again. Her wings started to shimmer, as if they were made of opals, glittering in the dim light. Even then, when her wings were holding her up somewhat, she held on to me with all she had, as if she would never let me go. Then she wrapped her arms around me and the feathers of her healed wings brushed over my cheeks as she snuggled against me like a lost child who had finally found someone else to hold on to in the darkness. Those wings were softer than anything in the world, with a faint perfume that radiated off her. She still stared at me with those wide, beautiful brown eyes, which now shone with happiness and peace.

I had healed those wings. I had made those eyes light up with joy. I had saved her life at her last moments, and she was thanking me the only way she knew how, binding me to her. She loved me. I just knew it in the way she held herself to me and gazed at me. And inside me, I didn't doubt for a second that I loved her back.

"Well, does a gorgeous angel as yourself have a name?" I asked her in a gentle voice, still looking at her eyes. Her eyes were gorgeous.

She nodded, stammering a little and speaking quietly. She was horribly shy, I could hear it in her voice. "Tasha. My name is Tasha."

My darling Tasha. The phrase came to me before I even realized it had. "Well, my darling Tasha, my name is Brent."

She looked at me, touching one of her small hands to my face. "Brent," she replied, her voice warm and gentle, music to my ears. Then she smiled, a big sincere smile that radiated warmth and beauty and made my love for her even more powerful. "My Brent-angel," she added.

I blushed. No one had ever called me something so sweet. "Thank you."

"Thank you for catching me."

I took her hand in mine, squeezing it gently, bonding our souls for eternity. "You ready to fly again, my darling?" I asked. She nodded, looking at me with those big beautiful eyes of hers. In those eyes were the signs of a love so deep and permanent that nothing would ever make her betray me. She looked as if she would do anything on earth to make me smile. And I would do the same for her.

She was a fallen angel I had caught from the skies. She had been that tugging at my soul, because she was part of my soul. She was the other half that made me complete. She was the reason I had been in that area, because I had to catch her when no one else would. She was my other half. She held my hand tightly, and together we soared out of the tree, angels in flight together.

Our flight wasn't always gonna be perfect. She would waver sometimes. She would show me the many times she had been grounded, with broken wings and a broken heart. I would cry, she would cry. People might denounce us or say things that hurt us. But as long as we flew in unison—even if at times I would have to hold her up and dive for her when she tumbled or fell, as she would have to catch me—none of that would change our flight together. I knew she would never fall like that again, because now we had each other.