Fallen Angel

A Story by Winterspell

Involves suicide, but no gory descriptions, I kinda skirted around it.

I'm running, I'm running as fast as I can. I keep running until I can't run anymore. I'm surrounded by trees and dense undergrowth. I can't see the path anymore, but that's ok. I won't be needing it.
My legs and arms still sting from where my drunk father beat me. It's all my fault. I'm to blame... I'm sorry, Mum.
I take out the knife I had stolen from the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I hold it to my throat.

I wake up. I can't... I can't remember. I see a bright light above me... and I'm flying towards it, out of the grey haze I'm in and away from the yawning black void beneath me. But the light doesn't get any closer. It moves away, like an optical illusion. I can't get any closer. I know I'm moving, but so is everything around me.
Without any warning, I fall asleep as suddenly as if someone had turned a switch.

My eyes blinked open once more. I know I'm dead. but somehow I'm still living at the same time. I'm not made of matter anymore. My whole being is buzzing, as if made up of pure energy. Huge feathered wings sprouted from my back. I was an angel.
I should have felt happy and powerful. But I didn't.
I was dressed in a white gossamer gown, but it was ripped and torn with one sleeve missing, as if it had been chewed by a wild animal. It was faded, too. The feathers on my wings looked unkempt and fraazled, and they probably wouldn't be able to lift me off the ground.
My hand crept up to my neck. It felt mangled and minced. I could almost picture the gory slash wound from my knife... from when I was human. Why was I like this? If I was an angel, shouldn't I be living contentedly in heaven?
I looked up to the star-spangled dome of the sky. There was a full moon shining, and I turned my face towards it, hoping I might somehow extract answers from its marbled face. None came. I had to figure it out for myself.
Maybe I was still on Earth because I had a job to do. But what kind of job? I didn't even know what kinds of jobs fallen angels had to do. I was so confused. Was I meant to help people or was I somehow a failure, not qualified enough to live a happy afterlife? A lost soul doomed to haunt the earth forever?
Not even bothering to see if my wings were in workable condition, tears of confusion in my eyes, I set off towards the nearest man-made lights to see if there was anything I could do to get some answers, although I knew full well that it was as likely for that to happen as it was for my soul to ever have wings.