By Aly
It was a cold day, no sun was shining through. Death was all around, and I was staring my own killer in the face. He and I were both angels, but different kinds. He was a White Angel, and I was a death angel. We both did jobs that helped one another, but did that stop our two races from hating each other? No.
It would kill off one of our races in the end. But did anyone really care? No, they just thought: 'It's them, or us.' And I agreed that both races hated each other for some good reasons, but not everyone is like how they think we are.
White angels aren't all snobby, and they aren't all high end. In fact some white angels is so nice and sweet that they would try and fight for the love that they knew use to be in our races. And all Death angels aren't all mean, they just have a job that has to do with death; it's how we make ends meet.
No one would listen to logic though, not until it was proven. I already knew my fate, my fate was to try and save both of our races. "Is this what you really want?" I asked, almost inaudibly.
The white angel looked at me as if I were crazy. "Our kinds were meant to hate each other." He said harshly.
I shook my head 'no' "It isn't, and you know it. We use to be brethren angels! But now… Now we kill because of something that happened over 100 years ago." I stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but in my mind it was.
"How can you say that? Both of our communities are built up on us hating each other. It's been that way for a long time." He said matching my own attitude.
"Yes but if we keep fighting, it will be the end."
"What is born must die sometime." He countered my words. "I grow tired of this banter." He said carelessly, he raised his sword and swung. It stopped a inch from my neck, like a force field was there protecting me.
"Stop!" said a thunderous voice; a crying angel was coming down; out of the clouds. He had a tear on his cheek, forever therein their race. "This boy has showed love and compassion for all of the people. Doesn't he deserve a little kindness?" The angel asked.
His magnificent white wings stretched out. He looked gracefully upon both of us. He seemed to own a heir of command that told you, if you don't listen you're going to be in trouble.
I looked down; my parents were dead from the war. And I was the last of my family. I wouldn't really mind if I died today, tomorrow, or whenever. Because life is life, I can't choose when to live and when to die, but I can choose that while I live it's going to be the fullest.
The crying angel came up to me, and looked me over, scrutinizing every part of my being. "I am no angel that deserves kindness… This is what I believe is right, and I think he should be able to choose who deserves kindness in his own eyes." I said, I was speaking normally.
The White angel shrugged and brought up his sword, I looked up at him. We locked gazes, and he saw what he was about to do was wrong. I couldn't blame him if he killed me, but now I think of what he said to me earlier that day. "What was born must die."
Our kind lived peacefully after that confrontation, but we still have some hostility towards each other, but mostly those are the ones that can't handle change. That war was born, and then it died. It went with all of what was supposed to be. And I'm glad. And personally I think before that day, we should have been known as the Fallen angels.