Hi, this is my firstfanfiction. Englishis notmy nativelanguageandevenher very muchnot in control, all translatedby the compiler, so I wouldlike to askyou tomyotherreviewsifMaycontinued to writeenglish ormynative languageandwho wouldliketoreadyou wouldtranslate it.
Isittoo muchto understandthat?
Sorry, anyway, sorryif there are anyinconvenience.
Michael
As a first archangel had to learn God. Maybe that was why he was so devoted father and tried to be the perfect son. Of all the angels with him, he spent most of the time.
In the five years of his back sprouted wings. It's not pleasant. It hurts. First, it is sticky with blood and other bodily substances. Michael cried. But when a God cheek and said he must be strong, holding back tears and tried not to think about the pain. His father gave wings to adapt, they had to be washed and dried.
Michael felt as vulnerable, every touch was ten times stronger than on other parts of your body. Every caress was so nice, but every tug was so painful. If your wing broke ...
Michael shivered and whined over this idea.
God ended up in the care of his son wings. He knelt before him and gave him a sweet smile. He raised his hand and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks little angel. Michael enjoyed the touch of a smile on his father's face widened.
"Look at them, Michael." told him. Michael turned his head, waiting to see the bones wrapped in feathers and flesh that encases blood and other profanity. What he saw, however, was impressive. Wings increased their volume of feathers glowed pure white, the tips were greyish and in some places was pale shade of blue.
He turned back to his father. His eyes sparkled with wonder and threw himself into his father's arms. God smiled lightly and you losing your gently with feathers on the wings. Michael squirmed in her arms a tiny voice mutters "They are beautiful thank you, Father." then fell asleep.
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What are you wings, if you can not fly? Michael waited flying lessons. The angel is flying natural as running, but when we crawled along the ground on all fours, also seems a walk on two feet as we are unable to.
Michael already knew the instructions, and this was not the first lesson. Have he ever managed float two meters above the ground, but Michael wanted to impress his father. Therefore, the parade started half an hour early.
God was not there yet, excellent. Michael looked around. There were about eight meters high rocks, perfect. He smiled at the idea of how you'll be flying around and sees his father to be surprised, but proud. Without hesitation, he climbed the rock. On top of it but smile faded. From this perspective, it was quite high. With a sigh, she was about to go down, but remembering how his father was proud of him ran and jumped.
He began rapidly flapping wings ... nothing. It decreased steadily and panic caused his flapping wings became less balanced. He was only about a meter above the ground when lifted. He chuckled. He was happy. He flew. Did obkličky, wavy lines, up and down again. The sun was shining on his beautiful white wings that just flashed. Flying was such a freedom.
The wings, however, was still weak, and Michael quickly grew tired. He forced himself to fly away, but God still did not come. Muscles he was really hurt and it was hard to keep in the air. He had no choice but to go down, but my father just told. Thus slowed the pace of their flapping wings, but did not go down smoothly, fell.
He exclaimed in horror. Nothing had not slowed his fall and he hit the ground. Released another scream, this time because of the pain. His cries were loud. He did not know how long he lay on the ground and wept before him raised their strong arms. Michael let out a cry of anguish against his father's chest.
Where have youbeen all thistime? This question angel troubled mind, but never found the courage to ask. Just continue crying and snuggled closer to his father.
"Shh ... It's okay, my son." Michael felt his father's hand as one examines if you broke the wings, while the other hand holds it. Then he pressed the hand of his father's body and Michael released a dissenting whimper. My father built it himself in front of a black-haired boy felt staring at him. He did not dare look him in the eye. Although he did not cry, but still a little whining and sniffing.
"Where does it hurt Michael?" God asked, picking up his son's chin and looked deeply into those uplakaných, blue eyes. Michael sniffed again and still, small voice said, "wrist." came the simple answer.
God took his left hand, which he served. Michael cried when touched, despite all efforts to remain silent. God grumbled when examining his wrist. "It's broken. I'm going to have to commit and consolidate." Michael nodded and tried to get back into his father's arms, but he pushed it.
"You disobeyed my orders to wait for me at every lesson until your wings are not strong enough." admonished his father coldly.
"I'm sorry!" Michael cried, tears again began to slide down her cheeks. He started apologizing hysterically. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry! Regret it! I did not and I know it, I'm a bad son. Forgive me PLEASE!"
God remained silent a minute and a note that is a bad son Michael ignored him she did not try to refute. "That happens when you do not obey my orders. Ends up wrong and this is the proof. Understand me? Gotta listen to me, otherwise it always ends badly. Michaeli You get it?"
"Yes, Father."
Oh ...I'm startingto havesympathyfor Michael. Anyway,I hope youenjoyed it,even thoughitis not quiteto my liking, butthe main thingis thatpreserved.Nextis the turn ofLucifer.