Forgotten Angels

Chapter One: Infinite Beliefs

            “Life is full of surprises: some of them good, some of them bad. What matters is that we see. See things for what they are; not clouded by our own faulty judgements. Honesty is a virtue, and being honest with one, we can understand who we truly are; what we are capable of. There is no doubt that; to each his own: we find our own way forward.”

            Val looked at me puzzled.

            “But how do we know what we see is real?”

            “Simple.” I looked at her and smiled. “We don’t”.

            We both looked up at the night sky, at the moon: which hung bright and alive with those stars. It does not seem so lonely up there. Valarie had just moved into town. I met her one day, by the creek; as I was half fishing and half sleeping. I remember seeing a pair of feet approach me as I lay on my back: underneath the sun that afternoon. The young woman bent down, and asked me where the nearest crystal stall was. She looked at me, up through my straw hat; I almost jumped into the creek. I remember that day onwards; we began to see each other frequently, doing uninteresting things. I wonder if this was fate or simply that we just get along naturally.

A strange and mysterious world we do happen to exist in, I’d say.

            Val and I sat in the middle of a green field; not far away from town. The grass tickled my foot and the wind sat the sleeping landscape in motion. I took out my long pipe and lit up the end. We took in the scene; the scene which I was so familiar with: rolling hills, running water, wild grass and flowers surrounds us. The hint of vegetation laced the cool night breeze. This was my home; the town of Estamizu was my cradle. The wisps of clouds accompanied the night sky, and us: old windmills and trees littered our domain. I took the flask from my back pocket and took a swig of good old fine whisky. Val smoked her own custom made long pipe and took the flask from my hand. She took a small sip, screwed the lid back on and returned it to me.

            “So, this is the great Calling Planes, I have been hearing about.”

The breeze came at us again; I could feel the sweet buzz of nicotine in my head.

            “Yup.”

            “Arca, how did you manage to find yourself here? I know you are not from here.”  She looked at me, after another puff from her long expensive pipe.

            I took another swig from my trusty flask.

            “Long story; and long stories are best served with a meal. So I ask ya: are ya hungry?” I turned to her.

            “No, I am not. Tell me anyway.”

            I sighed. Oh well, I thought. I smiled and looked at the mountains in the far distance: thinking of just what to say. The Misty Mountains, obviously named due to it being surrounded by mist 24/7.

            “Gather round darlin’s; boi have I got a tale to tell ya fellas! I, the great Arca; leader of the famous Calling Planes is here because of my great mission!” Val’s eyes lit up, the adult now look more like a curious little girl, and her face oozed fascination: such a dumb looking face.

            “I, the great Arca am here because.”

            “Yeah?” She edged closer. Her dark red hair seems to sway in eagerness.

            “Because”

            “Yeah, yeah?” And closer yet she got.

            “Because I like the fishing here.” I turned away, took a Swig. Val nearly choked, perhaps it was the smoke?

            “Arca, you fool.” She managed.

           “What were you expecting little girl? I tell you my great tales for real? Ha! Not while I am still sober.” I said, whilst sniggering and sipping my trusty old flask.  I do enjoy teasing this woman; something about her makes her an irresistible target for my bastard nature.

            “You should just die!” She snatched my flask away, took a very large swig, and emptying my precious whisky. She wiped her lips with her hand; accompanied by icy cold eyes which targeted me. She fired the flask at my head. It hurt. About turn, lighting her pipe again, she walked back towards town: giving me a casual wave as she left.

            “See you later, you mongrel.”

            I turned back to the distant mountains; my hand still rubbing my throbbing head. I took out a small bottle of whisky from my other pocket and took another sip. I relaxed my back, and lay down in the fresh grass: Looking at the stars. I exhaled good tobacco smoke. The night was quite. I like it quite. The lunar light basked my world. Such peaceful times are precious.

The winds howl, as if calling my name. I gazed lazily at the stars above, their dwindling light reach out to me. The pipe in my hand, I took another draw. Thinking about the past was never a good idea; it makes me feel as if I am imprisoned within: unable to move forward. I thought about how I really came to call this place, my home. Faces appear and disappeared before me, as if dissolving into the image of the night sky. I closed my eyes, I am getting sleepy; perhaps I should pack up and return to the hut. The straw roofed hut with small wooden windows; not a life of luxury as I had been in before, but it was better suited for someone like me.  My dirtied vest swayed in the wind, my black hair danced before me, and my eyes: lazy, cold, and clouded. The past will always follow me, like a shadow, or more like a companion.

            “Good or bad, all that matters is that we see, huh.”

I took another sip from my whisky. I turned my head up and looked back towards the village of Estamizu; the colony of dim lights in the distance. Time to go home.

I picked up my fishing gear, carefully; I placed them into my rucksack. With the pipe still lit and still in my mouth; I hoisted the pack unto my shoulders and began my walk back towards my small hut, towards the village. The wind howled once more, as if calling for me to stay longer.

            “Sorry, I have to get goin’ now.”

The night air was clear and fresh, the sound of the creak surrounds me. The village was getting closer; dark structures began to develop. Old fashioned stone walls and buildings greeted my return.

            “Good night! Eh!” Mr Beard greeted me.

            “Oh, aye, pleasant and charming I must say.”

            “Catch anything good, Arca?” Mr Beard nodded towards my gear as I approached.

            “Well, you know how talented I am at fishing right? The answer is no”

            “Ah, so the same as always eh?” Mr Beard stroked his long grey beard. Then he walked right up to me and put one arm around my shoulder. The shorter elder almost couldn’t reach me. I felt somewhat awkward.

            “It’s all about knowing what the little critters are thinkin’. Ya know! Fishing is a form of hunting; you gotta be one with nature!”

            “Mr Beard, you should go home, it’s late and I got a feeling it’s gonna rain.” I tried to walk away but he had me in a neck lock; old as he may be, but damn, he was strong.

            “I told ya! Never call me that! You ain’t 12 no more! Its Ernst got it! Ernst Young!” He tugged at my neck and I almost stumbled, a little.

            “Heh, yeah well, Mr Young you may like the night air more than I do, but I got to get home.” He looked at me with a strange glance. It was what he was known for: his weird glances. He let me go.

            “You being out in the fields with Ms Fora haven’t you. You sly. Oh I wish I was young again. When is the special day gonna be! Eh!” Mr Beard laughed and I was unamused. I do not want to stand in front of the village arch much longer, to be honest; the whisky and night air is making me very sleepy.

            “Ah, you old fool! Val and I are just good friends, you know, like good drinking buddies: she can hold her drink much better than you can Mr Beard!” I took a large step away from the old maniac, just as he looked like he wanted to smack me. But kept on the spot. I saw in his eyes that there is something going on in his head. His eyes were quiet, but not silent. He looked up at me, such a serious face. I have never seen the old geezer this way before.

            “Arca. The crystals spoke to me tonight.”

I knew something was not right. The crystals in the Chimeirum were never wrong.

            “What news?”

I looked at the tallest, oldest building in the village. Its large tower like structures hung in the centre of the village; several hundred meters away.

            “War.” The old man kept his eyes on mine. “Come with me.”

We walked through the sleeping village. Following the stoned road, the silent houses pass us. Darkened windows, closed doors: a gentle sleepy town. Unknown to the inhabitants of this peaceful town, I feel we will all learn our fate soon enough. The Chimeirum emerges before us. The tall dark structure seem alien from the rest of the village. Its unique curves and strange material made it look as if it was transported to the village from another time, another world perhaps. Its makers unknown; its history unknown. All we know is; it was here since the beginning of the village; it houses crystals that sometimes usher dreams to the elderly and its mythical healing properties. The structure was enormous taking up the whole of the town centre.

 I watch in awe as the tall structure casted a shadow over us both. Mr Beard touched a spherical object on the wall. Some sort of lighting emanated from the wall over us. Then wall slid open.