The Broken Angel Who Couldn't Fly.
I awoke with a start. Another nightmare. Usually its memories of the war. Not this time. It's memories of him. The broken angel who couldn't fly. He haunts my dreams now.
Tea...
Lies. I feel weighed down by the words of truth now spoken in my ear. His words creep into my mind daily. Creating blossoms of doubt about the man who fell.
...just a magic trick...
...no one could be that clever...
Did i know him at all?
Light. Its useless now, i hide in my room anyway. I can't go back outside. To bright. It was bright when i heard him say my name for the last time.
John
Dead. I`m broken.
Alone. That was all he had that protected him. I see why now. No hurt if there is no one to get hurt by. No worry if there is no one to worry for. No missing if there is no one to miss.
I see why he had no friends before Mrs. Hudson, Greg and I. No hurt. No pain. No sorrow.
Is he really dead? Has he drowned? Has he forgotten to fly? What if his death was a magic trick too?
