Dead Angels

The next day I was anxious to meet up with Melody, I was worried for her, and I didn't like the idea of leaving her there, not after what I'd seen and heard the previous night. I hadn't slept well, deep within The Hollows. The images of what I had seen kept going around in my mind. Humans seemed to be so cruel to one another. It didn't seem to matter who they were or where they came from. My mother was right, though; they were all the same in a way. Melody's mum thought she was a holy person, but was very cruel. Ray's father had been a solider  -  a brave man  -  and wanted the respect of others, but he was cruel to his son, too.



Relieved to see Melody waiting for me, I walked towards her, and as we mooched through the woods towards the lake on that bright, winter's morning, Melody said, "You won't ever tell anyone what you saw and heard at my house, will you?"



"I can't believe you have to ask me that," I said back.



"I know I can trust you, but I would hate for anybody else to find out."



"Well they won't find out from me. I promise," I assured her. And that was that, the subject was never mentioned again, but it was always one that would play on my mind.



Melody had a rucksack with her that day, she had smuggled it from home and bought it down to the lake. Placing the rucksack on the ground just outside our camp, Melody took a beat-up looking radio from it.



"I thought we could listen to some music," she said.



I could remember what she had told me about her mother and her dislike of pop music. I sensed that Melody, in her own secretive way, was starting to rebel. I watched her turn the silver coloured dial on top of the radio until music came from the speaker. I didn't know the name of the song at the time, but it was played a lot by the radio stations and Melody and I would often sit by the lake and sing along. I later discovered the song was called Heroes by David Bowie. As I sat looking at her, dressed in those plain and old fashioned looking clothes, I noticed something different about her eyes.



"Are you wearing makeup?" I asked.



"Yeah, do you like it?" she smiled, looking pleased that I had noticed.



"Well...I s'pose..." I started. "What would your mother say?"



"She won't find out," Melody said and took a lipstick from the bag.



It was bright red, and she covered her lips with it. As I sat and watched her, I asked, "Where did you get the makeup from?"



"From a shop," she smiled, glancing at me. Then, patting the big pouch on the front of her apron, she added, "Comes in real handy for slipping things in."



"You stole that makeup?" I asked, again surprised by her.



"Just like you and the library book," she winked at me, and secretly I thought she looked prettier without the lipstick and the black stuff around her eyes. I wasn't going to say anything, though, as she seemed to like it and that was cool with me.



"Speaking of books," Melody added, "I've got something for you."



Again, I watched as she reached into the bag and this time she produced a comic book.



"Why have you got me a book?" I asked. "You know I can't read."



"But I can," she smiled at me, "and I'm gonna teach you."



"What's it called?" I asked, feeling scared at the thought of making a fool of myself in front of her.



Holding up the book, Melody said, "It's called The Incredible Hulk."



I looked at the shiny cover of the comic book and could see a big, green, angry monster on the front with colourful writing splashed across it  -  but to me they were just shapes. "What's it about?"



"This dude  -  his name is Bruce Banner but he leads a secret life," she started to explain, thumbing to the first page. "Everyone thinks he's like, a regular guy, but really he's a monster. He can't tell anyone, because if people find out they..."



"Would capture him, put him in a cage, then open him up to see how he worked," I cut in.



"Pretty much," Melody said, eyeing me. "How did you know that?"



"It was just something my mum tried to explain to me once," I told her, thinking of my wings hidden behind those scars. "People don't like different, do they?"



Glancing down at her dress, the apron, and thick workman-like boots on her feet, Melody whispered, "I guess not." Then, as if wanting to change the subject, she waved the comic in the air and said, "Am I gonna teach you to read, or what?"



We spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening listening to music on the radio as Melody sat and read the story about the big green man who had to hide the fact that he was different from everybody else. Each page was a maze of colourful pictures and adventure. The words were written in boxes and bubbles scattered about the pages. There weren't too many words, and Melody would run her finger beneath them. Sometimes, as she was reading, I would look up at her, and I would feel my heart race. I loved being with her and I would have been happy to stay on that tiny stretch of beach with Melody for the rest of my life. A couple of times she caught me staring and would say, "Isidor, you've got to concentrate! Look at the words and the letters. Listen to the way the letters make words."



So, as those cold days and afternoons turned warmer, and the branches on the trees in the woods exploded with shades of pink blossom, Melody taught me how to read. It wasn't long before I was beginning to understand the letters which made up the words, which then told the story. It helped having the pictures, as when I got stuck, I could look down at the drawings and it all kind of made sense. Then, one bright afternoon, as the tide of the lake lapped about our toes, Melody took a book from the pouch on the front of her apron and handed it to me.



"Isidor, I'm tired of reading  -  I think you should read me a story now."



I stared down at the book. I felt scared and my stomach knotted. Melody must have seen the fright in my eyes.



Placing a hand over mine, she looked at me and whispered, "There's nothing to fear, Isidor. Books are like doorways. Open it and you can step right into a whole new world."



Running my thumb under the words printed on the cover  -  the doorway  -  I read the words aloud. "Grimm's Fairy Stories."



"Now open it," she whispered as if casting a magic spell.



I turned back the cover and tracing the words with my forefinger, just like Melody had taught me, I said, "Rapunzel." I glanced at Melody.



"Carry on," she smiled.



So I did, and I didn't stop until I'd finished. Hour after hour, day after day, Melody would sit beside me on the shore, the radio playing in the background, while she smoked and experimented with the makeup she was slipping into her apron, stolen from the shops. My mother had returned from her trip deep within The Hollows some time ago, and Melody still had to go to school. But I would still sneak away from home, telling my mother I was hanging out with friends, and Melody would come to the lake after school and every weekend. Sometimes she wouldn't show up at all, and I would really miss her.



During the hours that I spent alone down by the lake, I would read the books that Melody had borrowed from the library. Then, one spring afternoon as the sun sparkled across the lake, I started to write my first story. It was slow going, but once I had decided to write about the things I had seen and learnt about the humans, my pencil was flying across the scraps of paper I had brought with me from below ground. I didn't share these stories with anyone, not even Melody.



As I sat stooped over my notes, lost in my own little world, I caught sight of someone coming down the shore towards me. I glanced up to see that it was Melody, but something wasn't quite right. She was limping. She dragged her rucksack on the ground beside her with one hand, and in the other I could see she was holding a piece of white paper. I stuffed my notes into my trouser pocket and trotted over to join her.



"Give me that," I said, taking the bag from her. "What's that?" I asked, nodding at the piece of paper.



"A copy of the school dress code," she replied, screwing it up and tossing it away.



"What's happened?"



"A good whipping, that's what happened," she grunted and shuffled forward.



Helping her down onto the sand, she winced in pain. "It's the back of my legs, cut to ribbons they are."



"Your mum whipped you, didn't she?" I glared, feeling a well of anger swell up inside of me.



Melody nodded.



"How do you feel?" and straight away, I regretted asking such a stupid question.



"Awful," she replied through clenched teeth.



"Why did she do it?" I asked, sitting beside her.



"A teacher noticed that I was wearing nail varnish," she explained. "I forgot that I was wearing it. You're not allowed to wear it at school. It's not a big deal, really, but they called my mum. She came up to the school and took me home. She said the usual crap about how the devil was tempting me  -  and that only whores wear makeup."



"Where is she now?" I snapped, and I couldn't ever remember feeling so angry before. I felt as if I was changing inside somehow, just like Bruce Banner from the comic books that Melody had read to me. My teeth began to ache inside my gums, my fingers started to throb and I clenched my fists. The scars running down the lengths of my arms started to burn and I could feel those little black claws forcing their way out beneath my arms. But there was something else; I could smell blood, the blood which was seeping from the cuts on the backs of Melody's legs. Even though they were hidden from view by her dress, I wanted to taste that blood that dripped from them.



"Where's your mother now?" I asked again, my voice almost a growl.



"She's praying for me," Melody said. Her brow was creased and she added, "Isidor, are you all right?"



"No," I said, taking a step away from her, one hand over my nose to block out the smell of her blood. "I've got to go."



"Go where?" she asked, looking hurt. "I need you."



"Sorry," I almost gagged, then turned and fled.



"Isidor!" Melody called after me.



But I didn't stop. I raced up the shore and into the woods, my heart thumping in my ears. I needed to get back beneath ground  -  it was like The Hollows were calling to me. But there was another part of me that wanted to stay  -  that wanted blood and I knew whose blood I needed. Melody's mother's blood. I wanted to rip her fucking heart out and eat it for what she had done to Melody. As I ran, my claws shot from my fingertips. Using them like a set of razorblades, I sliced my coat into a series of ribbons that flew away behind me. I threw my arms open wide on either side of me and released my wings. Then, throwing myself forward, I yanked back the grate that covered the hole and dived inside. I tumbled down the tunnel. Over and over I went, my wings brushing the walls. I hit the bottom. Slamming my fists into the ground, I screamed into the darkness.