The Fallen Angel

Written by the pupils of Emmbrook School, Cranford House, Sandhurst School and Bearwood College

Out of the mist, I could just make out the fainted outline of… "Dinners ready, Harry". I turned around, and raced inside. "Where’s Mattie, Harry?" said mum. Tears running down my face, I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I ran upstairs and sat on my bed, the vivid images of what had just happened filled my head.

The cuts and grazes burn on my skin, they have been since I met it, that cold, winters day. At first I thought it was a dream but I looked out the misted window, down the garden to where our snowman used to be, thought back to the deafening scream of Mattie. How I had only just escaped, but how Mattie couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to go back. I tried to tell Mum but like Dad, she just couldn’t see through my eyes. Mattie was like a brother to me. Every day I look out my window just to see the same face staring back.

I flung my bag over my shoulder, and stepped onto the bus. All I could hear was "Where’s Mattie?" I ignored it all, walked to the back of the bus, sat down and closed my eyes. As soon as I entered my first class, the register started, "Harry?" "Yes, Miss" "Julie?" "Yes, Miss" "Mattie?" silence filled the room. No-one had seen him for a month now. I was the only one who knew the truth. The only one who knew the secret of Mattie ’s horrible disappearance. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, turned around, thought about it, and took a deep breath then said "Wealthy family, Miss, still on holiday." "I don’t believe you Harry, follow me." I followed her down a dark corridor that I had never been down before. My heart was pumping, trying to think of an excuse. How would everyone react if they knew that the most popular boy in the class; Matthew Thompson, was dead?

I can’t decide if I should tell anyone and if so, who? Mum, Julie, Miss? No. None of them would believe me if I told them the truth." Are you alright Harry?" "Wha? What? Oh.. err, yeah, I’m… fine…"

When I got home, I didn’t walk straight through the front door, I went round the side gate. Into the garden. Flashbacks of that day racing through my head. I stood there in the middle of the garden, lifted my head up just as Mattie had done.
"I’m sorry…" I fell backwards on to the soft grass. I know that voice so very well, but it can’t be. "Mattie?" I said. I was so scared, it was Mattie’s voice but what I was staring at definitely wasn’t Mattie. "What have you done to him?" Suddenly I felt such pain, more pain than I have ever felt in my life. This time the fainted outline would be my dead body lying on the grass. I screamed a deafening scream, one that that I have only ever heard once.

It was my turn …

The angel held the ball of light in his palm; the boys soul. It was glowing like a miniature sun. Smiling to himself he spread his midnight wings and launched himself into the air. As the wind whipped his hair and feathers, he gripped the blazing ball and sped up to a speed, faster than light.
……………..
I was lying on a cold hard metal surface. Every part of my body ached like it had been put through a meat grinder. I groaned. Sitting up I glanced around the cave like room, feeling like a vulnerable animal, trapped in a cage. The bars of the cage were made of a strange diamond like substance, which I thought would be best left alone. Standing in the doorway was the angel. His black wings were unfolded slightly; he was glaring at me with bright red eyes.

"You’re awake then." He said simply. His voice still sounded like Mattie’s.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why the hell do you have Mattie’s voice?" I said angrily.

The angel just laughed, gave me a look of contempt, and walked away.

Standing up, I tried to find the exit to my cage. There didn’t seem to be one though. Sighing I sat down heavily again, groaning at the pain of my huge bruises. I thought about why I was here. What would an angel want with me? I’m just an average kid with nothing special going for me. I thought about my mum how I might not see her again. And Julie, the girl I’ve always called my guardian angel, ever since the day at the river, six years ago.

I began to search my pockets, hoping to find something that would help rid me of this troublesome nightmare. What I found was sadly disappointing: my screwed up maths homework, a battered pencil, my trusty Swiss army knife that I received last year from Mattie, and, finally, a tarnished ten pence piece. I sighed dejectedly at the utter hopelessness of my situation. I decided to just give up and go to sleep.

When I woke up the angel was back. Reaching for my knife, I lunged at him, not caring if the bars hurt me, my only desire to hurt him.

"What did you do to Mattie!" I screamed.

He stayed quiet, so I continued straining against the bars. Eventually, too worn out to keep trying, I slumped to the floor.

"Now you’ve shut up, I’ll explain what you’re doing here. Fifty years ago I was cast out of heaven because I broke our most sacred rule: to never interact physically with human beings."

"So now I need the souls of seven innocents to restore my angelic form. That’s where that boy, Mattie comes in. He is one of the seven pure souls I need to complete my restoration. And you are the onlything that might stop me. "

Chapter 3
By Adam Wills, Archie Marshall, Emma-Louise Downe and Bamina Gurung from Sandhurst School

"Why me? Why am I the only one who can stop you? And why did you call me a thing?"

The angel took in a deep breath and stayed silent, his face expressionless. I drew back from the bars feeling hopeless and tried to listen for something familiar. But there was complete and utter silence. In the silence, my mind played tricks on me and I thought I was lying motionless at the bottom of the river six years ago, thinking I had taken my last breath. Suddenly, I saw Julie’ s face as she dragged me to the surface and I saw the brilliant glare from the sun.

I opened my eyes, gasping for air, but saw the angel’s face through the ball of light, not Julie’s. I’d always called Julie my guardian angel because she saved me. Angels were pure and kind, so what was one doing taking innocent souls? That would not get him into heaven.

"How is stealing innocent souls going to get you back into heaven?" I murmured to myself, but the angel heard and a flicker of doubt appeared on his face. The tip of his jet black wings turned a dazzling shade of white.

"So, how is stealing innocent souls going to get you back to heaven?"

"Stop speaking nonsense!" The angel dismissed the question, but the wings stayed white.

"You know that doesn’t make sense. You know it won’t help you. Why are you doing this? How will this work?" I bombarded him with questions. "Where did you get this idea from?"

"But he told me," the angel muttered and turned away. As he did so, his eyes softened to a pastel pink.

I realised that every time he had a doubt in his mind he lightened in some way. I had finally managed to get him to open up. But then I made a catastrophic error by saying, "You’ll never get back to heaven this way. A true angel would never do something like this."

With an anguished roar, he abruptly turned a deep soulless black.

"What do you know, earth child? You’re only part angel and you never knew your great-grandfather. He was the greatest angel ever. I’d have expected better from one of his descendants!" The angel shrieked.

My jaw dropped like a stone. Was that why he called me a thing? Was I an angel or a human?

The sound of his next words and the way they were delivered with such scorn pierced my heart, chilled my bones and sent a shiver up my spine.

"There’s no way you’ll ever stop me collecting the final soul; the soul that belongs to your precious Julie."

And with that he stormed out, but as he looked back, I saw a faint sliver of white in his hair and a glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes.