by RJ Seymour
Angel on the Edge
By
RJ Seymour
Copyright
Angel on the Edge
By RJ Seymour
Copyright © RJ Seymour 2015
A Book Furnace Publications Book
Cover Image: © Pink Badger/Dollar Photo Club
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The Beginning
"Do you think she even notices us?" Dale asked while he scratched at the dry dirt with his handheld cultivator.
The earth was bone dry; there hadn't been any rain in over a month and the crops that still clung to life were showing signs that this may be the end.
"Why would she?" Kevin answered as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Replacing his Redskin ball cap with the ripped visor and sun-bleached emblem, Dale could see the dirt that smeared over his best friend's red cheeks.
Mid-day had passed several hours ago, yet the temperature continued to rise. A dry wind whistled across the land carrying with it sand that scratched at their throats as the two boys worked tirelessly in the community garden.
"She has to notice someone, why else would she protect us from the darkness?" Dale continued as he grabbed a thin stem of thistle and tore it from the ground.
Vegetables and fruits struggled to germinate in the dry, arid land, yet weeds grew no matter how much they worked the beds.
"You believe that old wives tale don't you?" Kevin chuckled as he leaned against the long handle of his rake. "She's an angel protecting us from the demons that have destroyed this world. One of the last warrior's sent to save us from the madness that has consumed us all."
Dale looked up at his friend, the bright sun burning the light blue sky behind him. Kevin was half a foot taller and carried himself like his father. Wide at the shoulders, though their food was scarce the men of his family still filled out their stalky frames. He on the other hand never knew his father, but it didn't matter. Everyone said he took after his mother's side. Pale skin that was prone to burning, his freckles extended from the patch of red hair that grew over his ears to the ends of his fingers. Watching the muscles of his forearm move as he squeezed his hand, he shook his head, too skinny and too hungry.
"Oh my, you do believe them don't you?" Kevin chuckled as kicked his heels together dancing behind his rake.
"Shut-up!" Dale threw a handful of dry dirt at his friend before turning back to the row of radishes struggling to survive. "You've heard the stories just as much as I have. They can't all be lies."
He could feel the embarrassment swell up behind his cheeks, which he knew were already burned red from the sun.
"No, but you still amaze me my friend." Kevin knelt down beside him to reach and pull out a handful of thistle himself. "The world fell apart decades ago, and we all know why. Terrorists and wars. Not those children's stories that old grandma Shirley use to tell us. There are no such things as demon's and angels fighting to save us from or doom us to damnation."
Kevin stood up, his hands on his hips as he stretched his back. Sweat stains marked the underarms and chest of his white tee-shirt though Dale felt as if his shirt was soaked.
"You never know. She's out there, we all know that," Dale whispered to himself, wincing as the sharp needle of thistle bit into his skin.
"What I do know is there are rumors of a crazy woman who survives in the Whispering Woods," Kevin said while leaning forward on his rake. "I haven't seen her, but my father says she's as rabid as the starving dogs that hunt at night. She isn't some angel, let alone our savior. You're my friend Dale, but you need to grow up."
Dale squinted as he looked up with anger and sadness churning within him.
"Plus, your gardening needs work. Those radishes look half dead and I heard that the harvest this year is going to be our worst yet," Kevin said as he leaned his rake against the rusted chicken wire fence that marked the boundary of the garden. "Even an angel won't be able to save us if we all starve to death."
With a pat on Dale's shoulder, Kevin chuckled one more time before walking toward the dusty homes that clustered together in the center of the village.
Dale sighed to himself as he watched for signs of movement within the ghostly confines of the Whispering Woods. White sun-bleached husks stretched high into the air, the branches brittle and gnarled as they warped from the sun's relentless heat. She was out there, somewhere in the shadows, and she protected them all. It wasn't just a children's story because he had seen her. In his dreams, she was there, guarding against the evil that threatened them all. Deep within him, he knew the truth. One day, he'd prove it to them all and himself. He would find the angel at the edge of their darkness.
* * *
She walks toward him. Long legs and soft brunette hair that flows behind her as if blessed by the word of God himself. Light shines down from above; the darkness pushed back as she floats through the brush of the hollow trees toward him. He can no longer move his arms or legs as he is helpless in her presence. Her face carries with it a smile, one that melts his heart as her ruby red lips curl ever so slightly upward toward her dark eyes.
She is an angel, and he knows it to be true. There is no question in his heart, the darkness itself cannot approach her. As she nears him, he can feel his muscles tense. There is power, and it radiates from her and presses against him like a warm blanket. The evil that permeates the land can no longer harm him, she is there to protect them all. She walks this earth to protect God's remaining children. It is her mission; it is her charge.
Warmth fills his chest as she is almost upon him. Only a few rotten oak trees, brightened by the approach of God's champion stands between them. He can feel the sweat running down his forehead. He tries to wipe it away, but his arms are of no use as he struggles to breathe. She knows who he is, and he knows she is real. The others do not understand, they do not believe. But they also do not love her like he does.
His knees grow weak, and he could not rise to his feet if he tried. She is almost to him as he can feel the smile that stretches across his face. Yes, he loves her, and he knows what she does for them. He will make the others believe, he will show them, and in the end he will be one with her.
Her feet stop a step before him. Pain burns at his eyes as the light above shines and blocks the beauty of her face. Her skin is pale enough to be a ghost, her silk dress so thin he can see every curve of her body as the cloth hugs her tightly.
"Why do you not show them?" He asks before his mouth goes dry.
There is no answer as she remains still, though he can feel a shift in the wind. A dry breeze rustles the leaves as it dances its way through the forest. He can see that her muscles have tensed though she has not moved. Shadows encroach the light that encircles them both though its power is still blinding.
"What is happening?" He chokes out before his the last of his air seeps from his lungs.
She remains silent as she turns to the shadows that inch out from behind the graves of Mother Nature's beauty. Light erupts from her beautiful hand as a blade appears as if by magic. He tries to breathe, but he can't, his eyes lost to the magnificence of the weapon she holds. Light and power flows through the blade, a promise of righteousness and forgiveness that carries down its sharpened edge.
He can feel the darkness clouding his vision. His eyes struggle to remain open as he watches her step toward the approaching darkness. H
e tries to call to her, but there is nothing to say. In vain he can only reach out his shaking hand, his love, and his angel is leaving him.
"Find me," her voice carries into his mind before his world is lost to darkness.
* * *
Dale shot up in bed, his breathing erratic as his chest struggled to fill with air. Shivers ran down his back as he swallowed to fill his lungs, and the clammy feeling of sweat clung to his skin. Looking around, he could see that it was deep into the night, and he was still in his bed. Running his hands down his face, the stickiness of sweat still lingered on his palms as he felt the pulse of his heart slow.
Moonlight streamed in through the open window of his room, the thin curtains motionless in the night air. Small bits of dust filtered through the rays as he turned and placed both of his bare feet on the wood floor. The heat of the room felt stuffy as his breaths finally returned to a slower pace.
With a stiff push, he lifted himself off of his straw bed and made his way to the window. Outside their home, the night was silent and dead. The moon above moved across a sky bare of clouds, and as dark and devoid of rain as the world around him was of life. He could see the forest, a land of deceased memories stretching toward the hills to the west. Darkness filled everything that surrounded them, a blanket that they could not shake.
"Find Me"
Her words played in his mind. Soft and magical, the voice was a song that could play forever, and he would never tire of it. But, there was something there. It was hidden out in the shadows that held them all to this small village. She needed him, and he could feel it. It wasn't a dream, nor was it a fantasy of a young man living with fairy tales he should have given up years ago. No, this was real, and he could feel it in his heart, he could sense it down to the deepest part of his soul.
She needed him; she was in trouble, and he was the only one who knew. No one else would help. With a quick turn to the worn bunk seated at the end of his bed, Dale opened the lid and cringed as the rusted hinges scratched into the night. No one made a sound in the silent house as he waited. Once he was certain he was still the only one awake, he grabbed his last remaining set of decent clothes and closed the chest as quietly as he could.
Switching from a colorless cotton shirt and pants, gritting his teeth against the heat, he put on a thicker wool shirt and the only denim pants he had left that wasn't torn up to his knees. The rough material itched at his arms as he searched his room. It was hidden, and this early in the morning he couldn't remember where he put it. Working the memories through his clouded mind, he walked himself through the last time he had seen it.
With a sigh, he sat down on the bed. It had to be somewhere here in this room. If his mother had discovered what he hid, she would have beaten him red and turned it into the village keeper. No, it was still here, he could feel it. Looking back at the window, he wished he could see his angel again. The confidence and peace he felt when she was near left him empty when he was alone, and here within the village of survivors he always felt alone.
Reluctantly, he knew he could wait no longer. He would have to venture out without it. Maybe he would get lucky and find her without being seen. The shadows were thick, and silence filled the evening air. Holding his breath, he didn't know if he would be that lucky as he slowly bent to tie his boots. She needed him, and his time was running out.
Laces tied; he lifted his head from down at his feet to look out the window one more time. There was a large world out there, and he didn't even know where to start. For a moment, he considered sneaking over to Kevin's but he knew better. His angel was only a story to his best friend. He'd probably try to talk him out of it, and he could not afford that.
With a shake of his head, he placed his hands on his knees and went to push himself off of the ground when his eye caught a small scratching under the windowsill. As quiet as a mouse, Dale made his way over. Running his fingertips under the rough wood, he could feel the small markings that cut into its surface. At the right edge, his index finger pushed through a false board and with a gasp he caught the cover before it fell to the ground. Reaching in, he felt for what he knew had to be there.
His heart skipped a beat as the one and a half foot long box slid out from behind the wall. The container was solid oak that showed no signs of wear, only a thin layer of dust that covered its smooth surface. Replacing the board beneath the window, Dale lifted the cover and bit his lower lip as the moonlight sparkled off of the blade. It was a silver dagger. Over a foot long, it was a solid piece of craftsmanship without a single imperfection. The edge was a sharp as a needle and the leather hilt was oiled and without a stain.
Three years earlier, he had discovered the weapon buried in a box that his mother had hidden on her side of the house. It was a cold winter, and the village was looking for things to burn when she had sent him to find anything that would catch a flame. Rummaging through a few useless keepsakes he had found the magnificent box and the weapon it held. All around the treasure were faded photos of his mother and father though the man's face was always cut off or ruined beyond recognition.
She had always forbidden him from asking anything about the man, even others within the small community of survivors refused to talk about him. Gift in hand, he had kept his find a secret. The blade must have been from him, it was the only thing that made sense to his fifteen-year-old mind. He didn't know why his mother hated him so much, but in his heart he knew he wanted to know more. If keeping this dagger was one step closer to having him around, Dale knew he needed it in his life.
With a push, he hid the box under his bed as he stood and slid the knife into his belt. Where he was going, he might need it, and if his mother found the box, it wouldn't matter. He was going to find the Angel in the woods and prove to everyone that she was real. She protected them, kept them safe from the horrors of this world, and tonight she needed his help. He would not let her down.
* * *
Darkness surrounded Dale as he continued down the path to the Whispering Woods. Fires lit to shield the village from the shadows of the forest burned behind him as he covered the ground between home and his angel as quickly as he could. Above, the moonlight provided a beacon of light that filled the night with a sense of peace as the soft glow encircled the small village and those that remained asleep. Two men walked the grounds throughout the night, vigilant for any beasts that roamed the countryside looking for food that was left unprotected.
It took a single attempt for him to escape the fencing that housed them, the sentry's occupied with following their paths more than policing the villagers. Their home had not seen nor heard anything come from the darkness of the woods for some time. Many believed it was because God had blessed them, their location still hidden from their enemies within this world. Dale knew, though; she was out there, and she kept the evil at bay.
As he approached the first set of red oaks that stretched high into the night, he could sense the difference in the air. The darkness pressed onto his skin like a film of oil as it masked all movements as he stepped further into the darkened forest. Oak trees, maples, and elms gnarled in death quickly filled in along the path. Pieces of bark crunched under his feet as sharpened twigs caught on his sleeves pointed yet brittle as they snapped and fell to the dry earth.
With a turn back, the shadows of the forest had already blocked all vision of the village that was no more than a few dozen yards away. Closing around him, the world he had known became a land of nightmare with darkness fighting desperately to swallow him whole. Lantern extended down the path; he struggled as he pushed the fear down into his gut. He could never forget that it was there, the shiver of doubt running up his spine, a constant reminder as he continued forward.
Minutes turned to hours in his mind as he continued over fallen logs and through dried bushes. There was no clear passage, no indication of which way to go other than the pull he felt within his chest. A small voice whispered in his ear, beckoning him forward and warning him every time he strayed from
the path.
His shoulders ached, and his feet felt raw as he continued along. The silence of the trees was unnerving, the air stagnant and filled with an unmistakable stench of dust. With every step he took, his nerves continued to battle his need to continue. He was lost and in his mind he knew he'd be lucky to find his way home before morning, if he ever found it at all. Maybe she wasn't out here, could it all have been a dream? With his hand shaking the half-empty oil lantern, he reached down to place his hand on the hilt of his father's dagger.
He was shivering though it was too warm to be cold. Fear iced his veins as he sought anything that he could use to stable himself. Warm against his skin, the soft leather welcomed the touch as his hand molded around the grip, his fingers wrapping as if holding the weapon was as natural as breathing.
"You must run, go now!" Her voice broke the silence.
Pulling the blade from his belt, he held it out in front of him as his light shook and forced the shadows to dance to the beat of his frightened heart.
"Why are you here?" Her voice asked desperation laced within her words. "Stupid, you know the rules. The forest is forbidden, at night I cannot protect you."
She was near; she had to be. He could feel her magic as it pressed against him like a cloth drying in the summer breeze. There was movement in the darkness. Shadows flowed between trees as thick as smoke, waves of darkness circling him as he backed himself against the hollow shell of a forgotten maple tree.
"Do you not hear me?" Her voice was frantic as the black abyss of the forest pushed closer.