The Boy Who Knew an Angel

The air was crisp, cold, and an unforgiving wind chased the trees through the forest. The boy sat on a fallen tree rubbing his hands together, exhaling into them to warm up his tiny fingers. How much longer could he stay here? His father always said, ‘if you’re ever lost, stay put. Do not wander around. I will come to find you, just wait for me.’ He never thought he would have to heed his father’s advice, but in the forest, under snowfall, he was beginning to become frightened. As day turned to dusk and his temperature continued to drop the boy began to cry.

Where was his father? Why wasn’t he coming for him? He’d been missing half the day now; he must know his son is missing. He could barely feel his feet and legs, what little warmth was left in his hands could not be sustained by his breath any longer. Huddled on the fallen tree the boy continued to cry until he saw the bear. Just a few feet from him now was a large brown bear, its eyes staring directly into his own. His heart stopped; he desperately held his breath as to not make a sound, but it was too late. The bear was already too close.

As the boy and the bear stared at each other, the boy realized he was not afraid of the bear. The bear’s gaze was instead almost comforting, caring even. They continued to stare at one another for minutes before the boy decided to speak.

“What are you?” His small voice was weak from the cold.

The bear blinked at him; head tilted as though it understood but was surprised at the inquiry.

What makes you think I am not a bear?

The voice spoke from his own mind. He heard it as much as his own thoughts but there was no doubt, the bear was the one who spoke. The boy paused, contemplating his situation. He was either hallucinating and already dead, or he was talking to a bear.

“You haven’t eaten me.”

Do bears eat children?

“I don’t know. But a hungry animal eats the weaker animal, and I am weaker than you.”

This bear is not hungry. I awoke it to come to you.

“Why?”

To save you.

The boy paused again. Every fictional story and wild tale of talking animals and hidden worlds passed through his mind. He could not tell if the cold had made it so hard for him to tell reality from a fairy tale that he was actively conversing with a bear who was claiming to want to save him, not eat him. Or if this was really happening, a miracle.

“What are you?” He asked again.

This time, the bear sat back and lifted himself to tower up over the boy. Staring down at him he answered.

My name is Galendale. I am an Angel. I’ve come to keep you warm until your father arrives.

“You know my father is coming?”

He is searching for you now, desperately. But he is still far, too far. I saw him from the Crow’s eyes. You will die before he finds you. Unless I save you.

The boy felt a tinge of relief from the bear’s words. His father was searching. Yet, he won’t make it in time if what the bear is saying is true. At this point he has no reason not to trust the bear, talking or not.

“What do you want in return?”

Return?

“To save me, why are you saving me? What do I have to give?”

Nothing, child. I am saving you because I can.

Those words the child would not forget, words that would come to curse him and torment him. At the moment, however, the boy took those words at face value and so did the Angel. It was meant to be nothing more than a simple exchange, a small act of favor, an innocent gesture of goodwill. What neither understood that day, was the gravity of those words.

Galendale walked through the glorious halls, swiftly passing angels. He had been summoned by Casteel, an urgent beckoning. He reached Casteel’s quarters and knocked quietly, a gentle voice granted an audience and he entered. Casteel spent much of her time in Heaven’s libraries, which was reflected in her quarters by small piles of books everywhere. Loose papers filling in the gaps between stacks of books, it would almost have been chaotic if somehow every book had its place, every piece of paper helped tell the tale that was Casteel’s character. The serenity of her room was never lost on Galendale.

This time though, Casteel sat on her couch with no book in hand, only a solemn expression on her face as Galendale approached and took a seat opposite her.

“I know what you did Galendale.”

“If this is about the boy—”

“Yes, this is about the boy, Galendale. How could it not be about the boy? Do you not understand what you have done?”

“I have saved a life that did not need to waste.”

“No death on earth is a waste, Galendale. You know this.”

“I know this, but I struggle to accept this, Casteel. Why must we not interfere when we can make a difference?”

“You did not help him, Galendale. All you have done is curse him with the knowledge that we exist. He would have died a normal boy and now he will live as the boy who knows an angel.”

“Why does believing in us hurt us? Is that not the point of our existence? For them to believe?”

“Believing does not require sight. Faith does not deem a witness.”

“That boy had a future, he had a right to that future. A future you would have seen him lose because it is not our ‘place’ to interfere. I gave that future back to him, nothing more, nothing less.”

“So, you will not interfere again?”

“With his life? No, I will not.”

“With any of their lives Galendale.”

“I cannot promise you that, Casteel. Should God demand my wings I will gladly give them up for the choices I have made.”

For an angel, to give up their wings is unto giving up their life. Galendale was committed to his act of interference so strongly, that his own life was an equivalent sacrifice. Casteel saw this, and it saddened her greatly, but she respected his resolve.

“Go now, Galendale, but know this. Never has an Angel deviated from the path and not paid dearly for it.”

From the day that Galendale saved the boy, he would occasionally visit him. In the form of a bird, a squirrel, a stray cat. Many times did Galendale visit the boy and each time did he learn something new about his life. After Galendale saved the boy’s life his survival became widely known as a miracle, some even called it divine intervention. Galendale had left the boy right before his rescuers found him, and the boy had told them all of the bear that saved his life.

The story was too grand, too fictional for it to be taken seriously. However, the fact that an eight-year-old boy survived a night in below-freezing weather by himself was nothing short of a miracle and the boy gained some fame for it. In the coming times that Galendale would visit the boy, he would ask something of Galendale.

Something to prove his existence to the rest of the world. He wanted Galendale to speak to his parents once, then his girlfriend. He asked Galendale to let it seem as though he could control animals by Galendale possessing different animals and following commands. These mostly childish requests Galendale simply denied and waited for the boy to outgrow his impulsive requests. Despite this, Galendale still enjoyed speaking with the boy regularly.

He would learn of his struggles and his successes, his joys, and some of his sorrows. Through all of it, Galendale was there to witness it and see the life that he saved. He was sure of it, that Casteel was wrong. His interference was worth it, it meant something. He had changed the boy’s life for the better. Until the fateful night when Galendale came to visit the boy and found him desolate and sunken into despair.

Normally, Galendale would take the form of a bird, and fly to the window of the boy’s house. The boy would leave the window open for him, and they would talk into the night while the boy’s wife slept. This time, however, the bed was empty, and the boy was sitting at the window, bottle in hand.

When Galendale arrived the boy simply looked up at him with tears flooding his eyes and for the first time in thirty-four years since he met the boy, he saw the same little boy he laid eyes upon the first time.

“Galendale, it’s—it’s my wife. She’s sick. It’s cancer and the doctors can’t do anything for her.”

I am so sorry. It was difficult for Galendale to mean this, Angels do not feel sorrow but after spending so much time with the boy, Galendale could not help but feel as though this must be what sorrow is.

“I know I’ve asked you for so many things over the years. Help with my tests, getting a girl, becoming famous, tricking people. Stupid selfish requests. I am begging you Galendale, please save my wife. I will do anything; I will never ask for another thing again. Just please save her life, do not let her die. You saved me once, didn’t you? You can save her; I know you can. You have to save her!”

Towards the end the boy was shouting, his emotions escalated by his drunken stupor. He was crying the entire time as he pleaded and begged, staring the little bird on the windowsill in the eyes.

Finally, Galendale understood Casteel. He understood the mistake he made. But it was too late.

I cannot save her.

“What do you mean you can’t save her? I know you can. Don’t tell me you can’t! Why can’t you save her! Is she not worth it? I was worth it? You saved me! Save my wife, Galendale!”

I cannot save her. It is not a matter of worth. I interfered in your life once, I cannot do it again.

“Bullshit. You can’t? You won’t. What? Did you use your one interference token for my life? Take it back then, kill me, just save her. Don’t let her die, Galendale. I am asking you, as your friend. We’ve talked to each other for decades and I know that is such a small amount of time to you, but for me, it’s been my whole life. You’ve been a part of my whole life. You are the reason I have a life. You saved me, because you can, remember? That’s what you said. Because you could. I am asking you to save her because you can. I know you can.”

The boy was not going to listen, and Galendale could tell.

It is her time. I hope you will understand once it has come to pass. With that, the little bird turned and jumped back into the night quickly flying away from the boy.

“Galendale! Don’t you fucking leave me right now! Get back here! You can’t just leave me! You’re leaving her to die! You know you can save her!”

Galendale knocked on the door quietly. A gentle voice granted entrance and he walked in. Casteel sat on her couch, quietly watching Galendale sit down across from her.

“He asked me to save his wife.”

“Did you?”

“No. I could not. I could see it in his eyes, if I saved her, he would have begged me to save anyone else in his life he loved. He would never learn to say goodbye, move on, and continue to live. I wanted to help him, I thought all of the joy and love that I brought to his life by saving him was better than an unfair early death.”

“You did bring joy and love into the life he would never have experienced, Galendale. But with love, inevitably comes loss, and with loss, pain. Whole worlds of emotions he would never have known.”

“You didn’t see his face Casteel; he was a broken boy. Because of what I did to him. He’s in so much pain and I can’t take that back. I can’t fix it this time.”

“You did the right thing this time this time.”

“I didn’t though. It was as you said, I made a mistake I cannot take back. I want to help them, Casteel. But I cannot help them as an angel because it takes away from the purpose of helping them. How ironic is it that with all of the power to help them I cannot help them without cursing them.”

“You were not meant to help them, Galendale.”

“Then why do I feel this way? God created us to watch over them, but I cannot watch and do nothing. Had I been able to do just that, the boy would be dead, and I would not feel this conflicted. So, he was better off dead? For my sake alone? I cannot accept that.”

“You and I are not capable of understanding the grand scheme of things, Galendale. We are merely servants of a higher power.”

“We were not granted power for the sake of not using it, Casteel.”

“You yourself just said you cannot use your power, so then what is it for?”

“I don’t know. I know I want to help them. I want to make a difference, but I cannot as an angel.”

“You were created an angel, Galendale. You cannot change who you are.”

Galendale fell silent.

“Maybe not. I must find a way to atone.” Galendale stood and exited the room leaving Casteel to her books.

Galendale returned to the boy a week later, by this time, the boy’s wife had passed, and her funeral arrangements settled. He found the boy, in the same chair by the windowsill, where so often they would sit and talk. But things were different again, worse this time. The boy had not been sleeping well if, at all, bottles of liquor littered the once clean bedroom floor, and broken glass lay strewn from the boy throwing bottles against the walls.

“Oh. You’re back.” The boy merely muttered when he saw the bird on the windowsill.

It was a beautiful ceremony. She was very loved.

“A beautiful ceremony? Is that all? That’s all you have to say after you murdered her?”

Galendale was taken back by the boy’s words.

I did not murder her.

“You could have saved her! You chose not to remember?”

That was necessary, you don’t understand I—

“Necessary? Her death was necessary? And yet, mine was not? What higher power told you to save me? What purpose was there? So that I could live to watch her die?”

No, no I did not save you so you could—

“Because I can. I asked you why you saved my life and you said because I can. No reasoning, no purpose, no exchange. Even after I begged you to save her life, offered my own up just for you to act, you denied me even that.”

A life for a life is not so simple, you’re dealing with powers you don’t understand.

“Powers I was never meant to understand! When I was a boy and told them an angel saved me, they mocked me as a romantic. When I was a young man who spoke of interactions with angels, I was labeled a fanatic, when I was a man who tried to preach of angels I was praised for my faith because I believed in something that couldn’t be proven. This whole time, the world has never understood, and I have done nothing but try and prove your existence to them so that they might understand you. But Elise, Elise believed in me, believed in you. She never judged me, or called me anything other than her love.”

I didn’t know.

“I thought there was purpose in trying to teach them of you. You saved me, I owed you my life. When my wife was diagnosed, I prayed, and I prayed for her to be spared. To no answer, God turned his back on me, perhaps because I was never meant to be here to ask this prayer. So, I turned to you, and you turned your back on me too. So, now I know. There was never any purpose. It was a whim. It was because you could, not even because you wanted to.”

That’s not true. I wanted to, I just, I can’t save everyone in your life. I did not save your life for you to be granted the knowledge of the heavens. I—

“Galendale.”

The boy’s and the bird’s eyes locked.

“I wish you had never turned me into the boy who knew an angel.”

This isn’t right. This wasn’t the point. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“I don’t ever want to see you again. Leave me alone.”

I am sor–

“Please. Go. Just…go.”

The tiny bird turned away from the boy and jumped off the windowsill into the night. It flew and flew until it couldn’t fly any longer and crashed into dark woods.

This was never meant to happen. I didn’t mean to break him. I didn’t mean to hurt them. It’s because I’m an angel. If I can’t help them as I am, I will cast off my own wings to stand beside them then.

Angels can take the form of any life on earth, except man. It is forbidden for them to take the form of man, doing so results in their wings being stripped.

Galendale took the form of a man in the room and his wings immediately showed themselves in his new form, protruding out from his back. He took both his hands and grasped the wing as close to the base as he could and with all his strength, began tearing the wing.

He screamed through the pain as he severed bone and tendons, blood dripping down his back and pouring from his broken wing. With a snap, he completely ripped a wing off and discard it to the side. He began on the next wing, going through the same excruciating pain breaking his bones and flesh.

After he separated the second wing from his body, he was so light-headed he collapsed. His blood stained the dirt and undergrowth as his severed wings returned to the ether. His vision failed him as he lost consciousness, he thought he could hear Casteel’s unapproving voice one final time.

Casteel walked urgently through the glorious halls. Her face was stern as she approached the grand throne room. She went to knock but the door opened itself to her. She walked inside and knelt on the floor immediately keeping her head down.

“Galendale has cast off his wings. He intends to live among them as a mortal. Shall I go and retrieve him?”

For a while, there was nothing. No sound, no response. Casteel kept her eyes firmly on the ground and patiently waited.

“Do you know how many trees there are in the forests, Casteel?” A calm, loving voice spoke to her.

“I do not.”

“Do you know how each sapling became a tree? How it was carried from one tree to another resting place? Be it by the wind, squirrel, or bird helping?”

“No.” Casteel kept her head down.

“Not every sapling becomes a tree. Not every tree lives to see the horizon at its tallest. We could control the wind, we could control the birds, we could command the squirrels. The forest could be perfect, there would be no flaws, every tree would always thrive. Doesn’t this sound like a perfect world?”

“I don’t know.”

“If we chase perfection through simulation what we have achieved is not perfection, it is imitation. To imitate life is the dream of those who cannot see the beauty of it. To seek to control life is the dream of those who fear it. Galendale has made his own choice. He has discovered the beauty of free will and with it all of the suffering and contemplation that awaits him. He has found something he wants to protect in his own way.”

Casteel remained silent.

“Oh, what a beautiful thing it is to live, to struggle.”