Where the tides are turning
*I tend to write flash fictions when bored. It’s my type of practice writing.
The last time we saw each other was during the Second World War. In the middle of an arms race and senseless bloodshed, the two of us watched the unfolding climax of yet another chapter in the history of man. Much has changed since the war, but the nature of humanity remained intact. “Nostalgic?” her sweet voice remained within my senses. Even with a different face with each meeting, she could never change her voice. I could always distinguish her from the millions of wandering females going on about their lives.
“It’s quieter these days,” I looked around, seeing people pass by each other, minding their own business, completely ignorant of everything else that was surrounding them. “But none the better. They never change, do they?” she wore a melancholic smile towards me. I walked in closer, to come nearer at her; I attempted a delicate touch on her forehead, but of course, I couldn’t. We were bounded by the laws of the universe as I was an angel and she was a demon.
We were in a countryside somewhere in Asia. The sidewalks were full of sand; the sun’s heat blanketed the entire place. The sound of my sole scratching on the ground, the asphalt filled air, her silence as she walked with me, it was my definition of perfect.
“Would you believe a demon if she were to say that she wished for a more peaceful place,” she tucked her long black hair behind her ear and looked towards me. We continued walking along the long sidewalk.
“Of course,” my reply made her faintly smile once more. “But these people won’t. To have watched over humanity for a millennium can be too much. It pains me at times that man has such nature. I can’t honestly believe that we share the same concept on love with them,” she said. “We don’t. Well, some of them maybe, but not definitely a lot. Man amazes me at times, but it’s disappointing most of the time. They fall in love too fast.”
“Maybe it’s because of their mortality,” she reasoned. “No, they play with people’s hearts,” it was the truth. Man spent a wide fraction of their life by lying to themselves and to others. “We’re not in the condition to say much since we’re not them,” she pointed out. “But it’s because of them that we are like this. It’s their religion that demons and angels must not cross paths, not ours, but why are we under their laws?” I complained.
“It’s not in our nature to contradict. We are observers. Now, we must go. It seems that another chapter in man’s life is unfolding,” she closed her eyes and meditated. “Where to now?” I asked. “The Philippines. In a small island named Panatag Shoal, the tides are turning.”