Across the alleyway, a creature waits in silence. Red and black bumps run down its arms and back. Some are scabbed over while others are open sores, beating with the monster’s pulse. The monster’s hair falls in greasy chunks, hiding cuts and bruises. Skin tears away from the flesh on the monster’s lips. Dried blood.
The monster wraps its long, unnatural arms around its deer-like legs, clinging to bony kneecaps. Its spine, so disgustingly curved and hunched, curls around muscle and bone, shining in the streetlight. Unfed, it waits for its meal to approach. The first one it’s had in weeks. Its grotesquely large nose twitches at the scent of an approaching victim.
A perfumed smell enters the monster’s wide nostrils even before the creature is visible. The angel appears from behind a cloud of flowery smoke. Its skin is as clean and unmarked as a child's, its godly proportions glide through the air, and its hair falls beautifully as if by magic.
The monster hides away. Not again, it thinks to this godly angel. Leave us alone.
The angel’s perfectly symmetrical lips curl into a smirk, not tonight. It struts toward the tortured monster. It gracefully turns its head toward a dark abyss and, addressing the monster, it whispers, I’m going to make her sorry she was ever born.
The monster sobs, For once, leave her alone, please
You know I can’t, the angel replies, a sinister gleam creeping into its eye, but from somewhere deep inside the monster’s soul, it finds the courage to uncurl its body and stand, its eyes hurt, but powerful. It begins with a deep, nearly pained whisper. Yes, I know, because that’s one thing I have, that monsters have, that angels don’t. It begins a growl, reaching a shrill cry. We aren’t cruel to them, we love them with all our hearts and you make them turn against us. As salty tears drip down the monster’s scarred cheeks, the monster continues shouting into the darkness, no longer facing the angel. I love you! If you were an angel, you would never be kind. I love you.
A few moments pass and the monster begins to curl into itself, its lanky arms and legs intertwining in defeat, but then a blinding light emerges from the chasm. The angel lets out a cry. Swinging its hideous head toward the shout, the monster begins to see the angel disappear into a blazing mass of fire. A shrill echo being the only reminder of the perfect figure.