Weeping Angel

I am a weeping angel. This is my tale.

I crave life, your life. When you see me, I don't exist but for the music of your life, your time. I can sense the rhythm of your heart beats. I can read the sheet music of your life, the notes and the melodies. Your siren song calls to me. I desire life but never truly experience it. No lover's stolen kiss or whispered prayer for me. While you experience moments, I can feel them in your song. I long for it. I can only live through you.

Parasites you say? Perhaps. We need you more than you need us. But consider this, you seek us out. Alone, chasing rumours of others who have disappeared. Ask yourself why. We give you a chance to have a new life. This is why you come. You always come. You are subconsciously pulled to us as we are to you. Two magnets always seeking each other. We offer you the same opportunity, same chance for everyone. We don't ask questions, don't judge. And in return, we savour the passions of life for a brief moment. Life for life, I think that's fair.

The Doctor calls us assassins but I think that is unfair. There is no death, no violence, no physical pain. We do not kill you nor cause your death. You would have died regardless of us. I prefer to think of us as midwives. We help bring you into a new life, we give you a fresh start.

I am not an angel of death. I am the Angel of Life.

Vashda Nerada

We are the hungry shadows. You are prey. This is the cycle of life. Eat. Be eaten. And we are always hungry.

There is no mercy. Mercy starves. We are not kind. We are living. And we are always hungry.

These are our forests. We hatched here. The shadows are our hunting-grounds. And we are always hungry.

Shadow swarms numbering thousands. Fast, silent and deadly. And we are always hungry.

Piranha's of the dark. And we are always hungry.

We are always hungry.

Adipose

dEar Nanny,

You was the bestest nanny eVer. I was very sads that you had to Die. I will myff you. Mamma and dada said it was cos you wuld get us in trouBle and I wold hav to go away. But we is all OK and happy now. fank you for not telling.

Luv Adi

Silence

You are nothing more than domesticated simians. We have tended you, guided you throughout your evolution. Humans were bred to serve our needs. We own you.

You are so stupid. Fools. We have always been in control. Every single one of your "great" innovations has been for us. Industrious busy bees, self-righteous in your activity - little knowing or understanding your produce is harvested by your superiors. You just keep on going. Mindless. You think you know all, so proud but you know nothing. How can a race so far down in the mud hope to understand the wonders of the stars?

You know us as Silence. That is all you need to know. The cattle do not need to understand the farmer to make the milk.

We are the watchers. We keep the secrets.

You are nothing.

The Flesh

I have a terrible secret. I'm not human. I never have been. I was never even born. I am a clone. A clone of Flesh.

I remember everything of the original Me's life, all his memories, experiences and personality. I AM ME. When my sense of self is a bit unstable or I feel I'm losing my identity, I also remember the horror of being Flesh. The agony of dying a thousand deaths. It drives you mad. Wanting so badly to live but only permitted to die. Again and again and again and again and AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN

Sorry. Started to lose it a little bit there. Every time I do I have to force myself to remember things, real things, MY life things. The smell of my little boy's hair just after a bath, the feel of my wife in my arms. They don't know anything about the Flesh. I couldn't bear to tell them, to see their horror, to not believe in ME anymore. Because then I know I'd lose all control.

I'm not sure how I feel sometimes. On one hand, the Flesh should never have been created. It's a feeling consciousness in constant death and agony. The Flesh isn't allowed to be alive. It's offered life on one hand and taken away with the other. It's cruel. Men are the monsters, not Frankenstein. The tormented cannot be blamed for clutching at sweet life blindly and desperately. I wouldn't give up life for anything. I am glad that I exist even though I shouldn't. It makes life that little more precious and precarious. I have to keep my terrible secret to keep my sanity, keep my life. Keep everything.