I would say that I own nothing but the plot, but being as how there is no plot at the moment...


When one is young, the world is something to be admired. It is fascinating to us, down to the gossamer vein in a blade of grass. Children see the beauty of the world like no one else, with the purest of eyes and the most innocent of hearts. When one is young, life is untainted by the shadow of death.

Youth is a relative term, however. There are those that remain young until the day that death creeps upon them, those that die before realizing the inevitable. A few learn to fear death, to shy away from the darkness of it and agnonize over the permanence of it until they meet the paradox of an early grave. Some simply accept it, regarding it as little more than a misfortune.

I am a product of misfortune; I am a product of death.
I know this, and I move through life with it, the weight of it pressing down on me as if I've suddenly been submerged in every drop of blood I've ever spilled.
I am an angel of life's greatest misfortune. I am an Angel of Death.


So...love it, hate it, like it, don't like it? I know it's a drabble, but reviews are much appreciated. Hell, they're asked for. I'm asking nicely, too. Don't make me beg. I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid.