Heather Terrell - Fallen Angel  

For Jim, Jack, and Ben

How art thou fallen...

Isaiah 14:12

I watched my curtains billow in the early autumn wind that wafted through my opened bedroom window. The night beckoned to me. And I answered its call.

Lifting the bedcovers off me, I walked over to the window and floated out into the darkness of midnight. The wind surged behind me, as I flew through the shadowy streets of my town. Weaving between the familiar shingled homes of my sleeping neighbors, I reveled in the sheer pleasure of flight and the secrecy of my journey.

I was so lost in the sensation that the tall steeple of my towns eighteenth-century church loomed before me unexpectedly. The churchs spidery, whitewashed spire stopped my progress, momentarily forcing me to drop and hover in midair in front of the churchs circular stained glass window. Although the window was colorless in the night sky, I swear it stared at me like a preacher from the pulpit. Judging me. Why had I never noticed the window before? In my other dreams?

Without warning, the wind picked up speed and whipped at my face. It was cool and damp, and smelled of the sea. Suddenly, the church and the town structures and even the streets felt confining, and I longed for the openness of the ocean.

My shoulder blades lifted and expanded. I streamlined my limbs to gain speed. Taking a sharp left away from the church, I headed toward the bracingand freeingair of the nearby sea.

Civilization disappeared as I raced along the jagged cliffs and rocky beaches of the Maine coast. The ebb and flow of the great ocean waves crashing on the shore below began to lure me farther and farther out to sea.

A bright flash on a rocky promontory caught my attention. The light burned brightlyand inexplicablyin the deep darkness of the moonless night. Tearing myself away from the hypnotic enticement of the tide, I swooped down to the promontory to inspect this unanticipated deviation in my recurrent dream.

As I neared the stony outcropping, I saw that the light on its surface wasnt a fire or a lamp. It was a man. What looked like a light was the shimmer of his blond hair, so white it gleamed even in the scant illumination of the night.

The figure stared out at the sea, hands in his jeans pockets. He looked young, maybe around my age of sixteen. I flew a little closer, but not too close. I wanted to see him, but didnt want to be seen.

Although his face was hazy in the dim light, I felt a powerful connection to him. An attraction. He had green eyes and surprisingly suntanned skin. With such pale hair, I expected that hed be fair.

He adjusted his position, and I could better see his almond-shaped eyes and cleft chin. But the more I studied his face, the more it changed. The eyes looked blue instead of green. The nose lengthened just a touch, and the lips filled out. He no longer looked young like me, or old like my parents, but sort of ageless. His features became more perfect and angular, and his skin grew paler and paler, almost as if his human flesh was turning to smooth, cold marble. Nearly as if a master sculptor had fashioned a human being into an ethereal creature.

Then he turned and stared at me, as if he knew Id been there all along. And he smiled a horrible, knowing smile. His perfect face no longer seemed the sculpture of an angel but a demon, and I knew I looked into the face of evil itself.

I opened my mouth to scream in terror. And then I fell.

I fell to earth with a thud. Or so I thought.

I opened my eyes and saw my bedroom. I was lying on my tall sleigh bed, with the weak sun of early morning starting to stream through my blinds. The dream had been so real that I half-expected to find myself sprawled out on the promontory instead of back at home under my warm covers.

Still, the dream clung. Rubbing my eyes to wipe it away, I heard a familiar voice call up the stairs.

Ellie.

I still felt kind of drugged by the dream. I moved my lips to answer but couldnt get out much more than a croak.

Ellspeth? Its time to get up.

The spell of the dream lifted the moment my moms voice got louder and she used my full name. She only called me Ellspethmy old-fashioned given name, which she knew I hatedwhen she was really irritated with me. My voice returned, and I responded to my mom. Ill be down in a minute!

Disentangling myself from my sheets, I slid off the bed and padded over to my dresser, where Id laid out my clothes for the day. I shivered; I could actually see my breath in the air. Why was it so cold?

I looked around the room and saw that my window was ajar. Just a crack, but enough to let in the chilliness of the Maine autumn morning. I didnt remember opening it before I went to bed. Odd, but I could be a bit absentminded at times.

I closed the window, gathered up my clothes, and headed down the short hallway to my bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I turned on the waterhot. Then I lathered lemony soap onto a damp washcloth, and took my first look into the mirror.

I ignored the pale, almost translucent, blue eyes looking back at me as best I could: their odd, unsettling color had brought me nothing but stares for years. Instead, I focused on the things I could control. I studied my face, wondering for the millionth time just how Id tame my unruly, obstinately straight black hair. Picking up my brush, I began the long, painful process of undoing all the knots, yawned, and slowly awakened to the sunny morning.

Its brightness drove away the creepy ending to my dream and lifted my spirits a tiny bit. I thought maybe Id be able to make it through my first day at the upper high school after all. Then again, Id probably still wish I could fast-forward through all the nonsensepast the hallways and classrooms full of social posing and gossipy distractions from schoolworkand go straight to college.

Within the hour, I was careening through the hallways crowded with all-too-familiar seniors and juniors. I approached my newly assigned locker with a single, silent prayer on my lips: please, please, for once let Pipers locker not be near mine. In an unfortunate twist of fate, I was regularly subjected to the uber-popular Piper Faires both at homewhere she was my next-door neighborand at school. Our last namesFaires and Faneuildoomed me forever to be Pipers locker neighbor as well. The fact that Piper routinely ignored me at school, while still acting like my friend at home, made the whole situation very awkward. Although I had to admit, our unavoidable in-school proximity and neighborhood friendship had benefits: they brought me a certain immunity from her groups petty little games.

Scanning the lockers, I didnt have to look too hard or too long before I spotted my assigned number twenty-four, and realized my prayer hadnt been answered. There stood Piper with her swarm of friends circling around their queenMissylike honeybees. With their even tans, perfectly faded jeans, and colorful summer flip-flops, they glowed and seemed carefreeeven youngin a way Id never experienced. With all our environment-saving missions to impoverished countries, my parents had imbued me with such a strong sense of responsibility to the world at large that I never really felt happy-go-lucky. If I ever had a minute to spare, I felt like I should be volunteering more hours at the local soup kitchen instead of just hanging out.

I knew I shouldnt care about their little pack, and really, truly didnt care most of the time. After all, Piper had invited me to be part of her inner circle back in middle school, and I rejected her. Even then, I just couldnt stomach being part of a group that routinely voted their friends off the lunch table, relegating them to some loser-ridden backwater table until they were voted back on. Still, in such close proximity to their light, I couldnt help but feel like a black hole, with my dark hair and jeans.