A/N: Ficlet for the 25 Days of Fic Challenge, Day 6 (Angel). It's a Wonderful Life is the property of Paramount Pictures.
Cracking ice starts no louder than a belated leaf crumpling under a boot. It's a whisper of doom. By the time it turns into a shout, water's pouring through the fissures.
The boy backpedals with his feet, feeling for solid ground on the disintegrating surface of the pond. There's nothing for him to grab onto, no foothold that stays stable. He slips and slides. Then the final crack of doom shatters the day, and he goes into the freezing water.
"Harry!" the other boy, the older brother, shouts. Harry's clothes must be heavy with icy water, pulling him down with their woolen weight when he needs to push upward toward light and air.
There is a moment when I could step from the trees, a kindly stranger, and extend a broken branch to Harry. He'd grab it, clutching with fingers he can barely feel, and I'd pull him to shore.
There is a moment when I could step from the trees, a kindly stranger, and dive into the pond myself. I would kick myself deep, oblivious to the cold, and propel Harry to the surface.
There is a moment when I could shout for help and someone would answer.
Save George Bailey—that's the older brother—from the thing that will ruin his life. That's my charge as an angel. What they don't tell you—and by this I mean you, the viewer who's coddled with tales of wings and harps and floating around on clouds—is that an angel is created to perform a task. Complete the task, and the angel is done.
My skin feels incredibly alive against the sharpness of the air. I've already learned that the scent of smoke from Bedford Falls' fireplaces is comforting, that the tang of pine needles is invigorating, and that nothing is more beautiful in the morning than the smell of coffee.
I don't want to be done.
The moment when I could help is ephemeral. It slides beyond the reach of my mittened fingers and snaps like an icicle as George Bailey dives into the pond to save his brother.
A/N: The idea that an angel is a task, and exists only for that task, comes from Kabbalah.