This deals with some religious matter, just angels, that's it. Imagine this from a child's point of view. It's just a really cute piece, I don't know if there's really a point to be made here, or just a story written for amusement. Allyson is a normal, typical grade school age kid, hence the dialogue. Just throwin' a curve ball, none of those Mary Sue babies. My reviews haven't been working lately…eck. I couldn't think of how to end this either.
Angels of Stone, Angels of Dust
Every city has beat, every building, house, person, car, etc etc etc. Hudson heard it somewhere…television, one of those music shows…the good ones showing sometime around early morning where the music was about beat and making it, not gardening tools, or golden treasures (though Hudson knew numerous ballads about treasures and maidens and such, it was a real shame how they changed over the millennium). New York City's beat was loud and overpowering, like the massive motor of an automobile; clanking, loud, smoking, greasy, slick, and dirty, but working with a monotonous rhythm. It is amazing how a small sound, a small noise, a beat of a different tempo, could stick out so sorely in the brashness of the city. Like a chip in a gear, or a small pin thrown into the machinery, it sticks out like a sore thumb.
Hudson heard it from the back alley, where he was blowing the steam off a Styrofoam cup of Irish Cream. It was a steady and very quick sound, the sound of a pair of tiny tennis shoes on the pavement, like fat raindrops falling on a tin garbage can lid. Hudson had to cock an ear and listen in on the series of sounds before he recognized the sound. His naturally gifted ears pricked at heavier sounds prowling behind the clicking footsteps. He slunk into the shadows.
A pair of white tennis shoes, tiny and unbelievably clean, was a beacon in the dingy and darkness of the alleyway, Hudson, spotted them first before he could discern the wearer of the shoes in the darkness, a young girl, grade school age perhaps, only a bantling. He saw the shadows of her stalkers, the whites of their eyes and the black, blockish outlines of their heads. They were sneaking up behind her as she skipped pass slime puddles, fully involving her attention on the slime at her feet, not the slime following behind her.
One man reached out, grubby thick fingers trying to catch the strap of her velvet pink backpack when Hudson struck him in the face with the cup of coffee. The girl turned, her eyes widen in fear at the sight of a man's hand only inches from her face. Her eyes grew even larger as the grimy hand suddenly pulled away. The assailant lurched back, grabbing at his face, driving his fingertips into scalded skin. The coffee formed in tiny pools, hissing as it cooled. Driving the pommel of his sword into the other man's stomach, Hudson brought the other man's forehead towards his knees from the force of the blow. Bodily he slammed the one man into the other struggling to stand up. Like billiard balls, they struck the wall then slid down into a slimy pile.
The girl was frozen in place, then turned, wide mouth to face him.
"These streets are not safe fer a lass of your age to be wonderin' about at these wee hours. Shouldn't you be at home with your parents?" Hudson said in a patriarch tone, soothing, yet authoritarian.
At the end of his question, the girl, like a gargoyle, went from stiff as stone to lively. "I ain't a little baby, you big ugly monster!"
Hudson had to step back.
"I ain't a baby! And I don't need my parents!" she screamed, stamping her foot with such force, she recoiled.
"Lass, your parents are worried about you. You should return to your home," Hudson stated coolly, though quivering on the inside. The girl snorted and crossed her arms.
"They don't giva damn 'bout me. All they do is fight, they don't care where I go," she growled.
"And where might you be going, lass, at this hour of the evening?" Hudson asked.
"To my Grandpap's," she stated in a bossy, matter-of-factly tone. She started to stroll away, down the alley, not avoiding the mud puddles as carefully as before. Hudson followed beside her, trying to keep in step with her march.
"And why would you being do that, lass?" Hudson asked.
"I told you, my parents are always fightin'. Over money, over the car, over who called da babysitter, over who should make dinner or what's for dinner. Dat's all they do, fight and fight some more, the only time they're not fighting, they're working, but they make up for that, they fight over work when they come home, then they sleep, and dream of fighting," she stated.
"Lass, do you think running away to your grandfather will fix this?" Hudson asked.
"He's the only who cares 'bout me," she answered straightly, looking at her shoes.
"Really lass?" Hudson asked. "Your parents really love you, you know that."
The girl kicked a bent soda can. "They sure don't act like they do."
She kicked the can again down into a gutter.
They walked through several alleyways, the girl squeezing through breaks in rusted chain link fences, Hudson, behind her, climbed over the fences. The girl kept walking, ahead of Hudson and looking ahead, and Hudson nearly lost sight of her repeatedly, but her white shoes easily gave her position away, as well as her determined footfalls. After his fourth time losing her, Hudson sprinted up on all fours, nearly stepping on her heels.
"My name is Allyson Deborah Bee, like the bug," she stated, gripping on to the straps of her pink backpack. "Do monsters have names?"
"Mine, Lass, is Hudson, like the river," Hudson answered.
"Why do you want to be named after a smelly, ol' river?" Allyson asked.
"Why do you sound so proud of a name of a nasty little insect?"
"My parents want a divorce," Allyson stated. "My mom wants to change my last name and move away to her sister's house somewhere in Mich…Mich….Michigan. I don't like her last name that much. I dunno what it is, but I don't like it. Do you have a last name Hudson? Is it River? Coz that would be cool."
"No, Lass, I don't have a last name. It will be too confusing to have two names."
"I want a pretty name, like Princess, or Sugar, or Fairy, or Rose," Allyson said. "I hope my mom changes my first name if she changes my last name."
She kicked a cigarette butt, scraping it from the grime. "We're learning 'bout the states in school. Michigan is a state. Did you know that?"
"No, Lass, I did not."
"It's by a lake. A lake is like a river, only it's not long, it's wide."
"That, Lass, I knew."
"You can catch fish in a lake too, not a river."
"You can also catch fish in a river."
"Not in the one here."
It was quiet again until they came across the worn, misshapen boards of a garbage lot fence. Allyson pushed a loose board away, and squeezed through the opening. Hudson climbed over heavy wooden crates then leaped into the junkyard. He spotted Allyson's shoes twenty feet away turning around a pile of chicken wire and metal rods. Quickly, he bound after her. Around the corner, he heard the angry, deep bark of a junkyard guard dog.
Allyson was kneeling, digging through her backpack while nearby a pit bull paced back and forth, and dragging a very heavy chain on the ground. Drool pooled from its mouth and occasionally it let a whine of anticipation escape from its throat as it lurched forward. Hudson raced forward just as Allyson tossed the dog a candy bar. It caught the bar in midair in a surge of thick drool.
"She likes Paydays," Allyson said. "I call her Spice."
The dog did not bark anymore as they walked pass. It licked at the peanuts and nougat stuck between its fangs.
"I have a dog, Lass," Hudson said. "He's called Bronx."
"I want a dog," Allyson said, "All I got is a gerbil, Skipper. I tried to teach Skipper to play catch and rollover, I want her to have babies too, lots of them. I would call all the girls Scary, Posh, Sporty, Baby, and Ginger and all the boys would be Zach, Isaac, and Taylor. Do you have babies Hudson?"
"No, Lass, I don't."
"Oh."
It was quiet again. They walked through an abandoned playground where empty fast food bags blew across the pavement like sage brush in Broadway's movies. Allyson jumped on an aluminum slide.
"I don't want to go to Michigan. I want my mom and dad to be together forever. I want to stay here," Allyson said. "I don't think Michigan is very pretty. It smells like fish because of the lake, and I bet there's a bunch of monsters there, too. They live in the lake. Where do you live?"
"On top of a building."
"Do you see everything? Like the whole city?"
"I see a lot of it, but not the entire city."
"My dad took me to the Empire State Building when I was really little. I've never been back there, but I have a poster from there on my wall. It's really old."
"The Empire State Building is really tall, weren't you scared?"
"No, I'm brave, I'm not a baby."
"How far to your Grandfather's?"
"Not too far," Allyson answered.
They crossed through another alleyway and a parking lot filled with broken glass behind a cheap motel. Once again, Allyson used her small size to squeeze through the black bars of a cemetery fence. She was caught for a section because of her back pack. She tugged violently on her backpack with a grunt, then fell through onto the gritty walkway of the cemetery. Allyson bit her lip then sat up, gripping her scraped knee.
"Lass, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she sniffed then stood.
They walked through the cemetery, along the pathway, and through the grass. Occasionally Allyson stopped to pat or check a random gravestone, or tell Hudson which one she thought was the prettiest and her favorite. Many of the gravestones were stone angels, elegantly carved from the granite or marvel, their feathery wings open to the sky and held high, clawless fingers gripping harps or folds of gowns.
"Those are angels," Allyson said. She paused. "I think angels are pretty."
"Indeed, Lass, they are," Hudson observed. The angels appeared much like the fae, albeit not as haughty look, and there was an aura around them.
"Everyone becomes an angel when they die, my Granddaddy said so," Allyson said.
"They do?"
"They sprout wings and get a halo," Allyson said. "But…"
"But what, Lass?"
"My Granddaddy said angels live on earth too. Not all are in heaven."
Hudson nodded.
"My Granddaddy, he said that angels are everywhere. I see them on shirts, greeting cards, windows, and ornaments all the time, but I don't think that's what he meant. He said angels don't always look like angels either. He said no one really knows what an angel looks like. What do you think an angel looks like Hudson?" Allyson asked.
"Lass, I have no clue," Hudson answered. "Maybe they have webbed wings and horns and tails."
"Or kitty tails and ears and stripes like zebras," Allyson said with a childish giggle.
"Your guess is a good as mine," Hudson said. "Your mind is young and full of ideas, and my mind is old and expects anything. Are we close?"
"Yep, very close!" Allyson said, skipping away.
"It is amazing that a child your age found your way here," Hudson said.
"I go to see my Granddaddy a lot when Mom and Dad fight. They fight a lot," Allyson answered. "Here he is."
Hudson turned to see where Allyson was gesturing—a grave stone, the ground around it still very muddy, the shoots of grass just starting to carpet the mound. A male angel carved to appear older than the ageless angels in graveyard stood on a cloud holding out his cupped hands. A few inches away a dove flew off. Willard A. Bee, beloved father and grandfather, rest in peace and may you bring as much happiness as you did on earth to heaven, you will be missed and loved by all.
"Allyson…"
"My grandfather," Allyson said softly, "died a few months ago, before my birthday. We didn't have a birthday party for me. I didn't want one, all I wanted was my Granddaddy to come back from heaven."
"Oh Lass," Hudson said, sitting down beside her. Allyson rubbed her nose, now red and ruddy.
"I'm not going to cry…I'm not going to cry," Allyson sniffled. Suddenly she kneeled down and held her stomach, bawling loudly. "I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS! I WANT MY GRANDDADDY!"
Hudson rested his hands on the girl's shoulder. "Your grandfather won't come back, Lass. He's an angel now."
"I need him now!" Allyson bawled, tears streaking face. "What would you know about losing someone? I'm gonna lose my parents now!"
"Lass," Hudson said, turning Allyson to face him, "most of all I have ever known are dust now."
"Dust?" Allyson sniffled.
"Dust, all my clan, my mate, they have passed, years ago, so long ago that there is no one who remembers it," Hudson answered.
"Gone?"
"Gone, Lass, they're gone," Hudson answered.
"That's really sad. Do you have a family?" Allyson asked.
"I do, it's not as large as it once was, but it's still here," Hudson said.
"Oh," Allyson said. "I don't want to go home. My mom she was fighting with my dad over dinner again. Can I come home with you? I can make your family bigger. I can learn how to cook; I made cupcakes once in my Easy Bake Oven. "
"Aye Lass, I would like that, but you can't. If you like Lass, I can take you to the police, it would be like, it would be like, like a little trip, a holiday or vacation for the night," Hudson said.
"They're not gonna put me in jail are they?"
"No, Lass, they won't, I'll make sure of it," Hudson said. "I know where the station is, I'll take you there."
It was hard to glide out of the graveyard, so they strolled out, Allyson grabbed hold of two of Hudson's fingers.
"Hudson?"
"Yes Lass?"
"People don't just turn to dust when they die, not even monsters."
Hudson nodded.
"Your family, they're not dust."
Hudson hated to try and explain the gargoyles' physiology to Allyson, it was difficult as it was for Hudson to understand and explain to older humans, and it would be next impossible to explain it to Allyson. When Gargoyles pass, they become stone, like the gravestones, in essence, they are their own tombstones.
"They're angels. They're up in the sky," Allyson stated, "watching us."
"Yes, Lass they are," Hudson said, looking sky. A single star twinkled.
"They smiled."
"I believe that was your grandfather."
"No, it was all of them. They're all smilin'."
Hudson smiled.
Hudson had to carry Allyson when they flew because, though he was quite confident Allyson would not be scared of flying, he was not sure that she could hold onto his back.
"Hey Hudson," she spoke up again as they glided past buildings.
"Aye Lass?"
"I have a question."
"Yes?"
"One of my friends, well, she's not my friend anymore, told me angels don't exist. She said that coz her daddy told her that. I told her my granddaddy said that angels did exist, and she said I was full of snot and pulled my hair."
"That's terrible, Lass."
"But I have a secret."
At that Allyson leaned up into his finned ear and whispered. "She's wrong. There are angels out here."
"Aye Lass," Hudson chuckled. "And what was your question?"
"Are you my guardian angel?"
"Lass, I'm no angel, I do not look like the angels in the cemetery. I'm not a thing like an angel."
"But angels could like anything, and you're good, not bad. You saved me from those bad people."
They landed in the alleyway beside the building. Hudson gently set Allyson on the cobblestones.
"Promise me Hudson, you'll be my guardian angel, promise me, forever?" Allyson asked, almost demanding.
"Lass, I promise," Hudson said.
Allyson held up her pinky. "Pinky swear?"
Hudson locked his pinky with hers, "Promise Lass, but I can't promise you that your parents will not separate. Maybe Lass, it is for the better. You better get to going."
Allyson ran about five feet then turned and ran back and hugged Hudson around the neck.
"Thank you! I'm sorry I called you a big ugly monster. You're still old though," Allyson said.
"I hear that often Lass," Hudson stated.
Allyson turned and ran into the precinct, her shoes skipping lightly for once, so lightly, Hudson could scarcely hear them.
&&&
Eight Months later,
"Hey Maza, there's another letter for you from that girl," one of the secretaries said. "Just like clockwork."
"Thanks," Elisa said, "just like clockwork".
She took the envelope. "I'll go read this on break."
She tucked the envelope into her jacket and headed to the stairs. It was near sunset as she opened door. A chorus of cracking stone joined the chorus of the New York City night life. Goliath and the trio roared, Bronx howled, and Hudson moaned with pain as his back cracked just as loudly as his stone outer skin.
"Here's something for you, Hudson, just like clockwork. She still titles it Guardian Angel, didn't you tell her your name?" Elisa said pulling the envelope from the interior of her jacket.
"Thanks, Lass," Hudson said, using his claw as a letter opener. He sat down on the edge of his perch, feet dangling over the edge. Bronx circled twice before plopping down beside him.
Dear Hudson,
There is a lot of snow in Michigan, we had three feet last week and I missed three days of school. It was a lot of fun. I built a really big snowman, but he melted, so did all the snow angels, I made a lot of those. I really like sled riding, my friend Missy has ponies and they pull a sled she has around. Missy says she will show me how to ride them in the spring. I have never seen a pony before, and I really can't wait to ride one. I want to ride the brown one called Butterscotch because she is the prettiest. We drew today in art class, and we are supposed to draw a magical creature. I drew you, and my teacher told me I drew a really scary monster, but I told her it was not a monster, but a guardian angel, then she told me I am really creative at drawing guardian angels. Mom would not let me send the picture because it was too big for the envelope. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. You were right, I am having a lot fun in Michigan, but I miss you. You should come visit.
Love
Allyson Deborah
As he folded the letter up to tuck it into his belt, the snow fell from the sky in thick, feathery white clumps, like the feathers of angel wings.