The Harp

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πŸ“… Published on August 3, 2013

"The Harp"

Written by

Estimated reading time β€” 3 minutes

There is an angel perched on my bedside; it whispers a name all too faint.

The world has been cruel to me. More cruel than I could ever imagine. Now, I doubt what it really means to imagine. I’ve been seeing the angel for a few weeks. The first time I saw it, I was more frightened than I’d ever been in my life.

I woke up to its whisper. It was a rough and scathing noise that penetrated my body through my ears and out through my soul. I dared not to open my eyes, as I had the certain feeling that I was being watched. Soon enough though, my eyes were wide open and I saw it.

I didn’t believe my sight, I couldn’t have. It was only visible as the moonlight shone through my windows and revealed the thing. It sat perched, naked on my bedside with a certain comfort. It was a thin and pale creature. Its arms were folded over its chest and its taloned feet were planted to my bed in a manner very similar to a bird sitting in its cage. It’s head was turned toward me, so in the moonlight I could see its face. Its face was hideous. It’s features seemed as if they could have been drilled into its pale canvas, save for its eyes and mouth. Its eyes were large and without pupils, while his mouth was in the formation a long and expressionless frown that extended from the sides of its face. I saw glimpses of the creature’s jagged teeth when it spoke. Its mouth opened ever so slightly when it spoke and its name gasped from between its teeth as if it were its last breath. It spoke a name that bore itself into my mind even though it couldn’t be heard.

I feared it for weeks. I would wait for its appearance each night, and it would always appear when it was the least convenient for myself. One night I stopped eagerly awaiting the creature’s return and it showed me something in my sleep. It gave me the whole world for an instance. I saw a boy born, a soldier die, a young pup picking the bones of it’s own mother, a woman on a noose, and ungodly things that I could never dare recall, but I remember. I will never forget. But it was only in the end of our vision that it showed me truth.

I walked naked along the desert sands. I walked nearer and nearer to it, and its name became more and more clear as it whispered. That’s when I saw its halo and I saw my own. The angel sat a on a cactus overlooking the desert. It unfolded it arms to reveal a pair of great wings; wings of bone with a thin flap of pale flesh connecting the angel’s arm to the sides of its torso. It raised one wing and slowly crept its other claw to its wing. The angel’s claws screeched on the bones of its wing to create a horrid sound. The sound blared through the desert and the painful noise brought me to my knees. As it played it’s wing, a group of pale buzzards gathered above the angel. They circled into a halo and hovered mere meters above its head. The screeching sound brought me to fall into the burning sand. I looked into the sky and as the group of buzzards began to circle around my body. The noise woke me up soon after, and the angel had left.

Every night it came to me; every night I heard the same name. I don’t fear it, not anymore. I don’t think I can fear anymore, it’s just too late. I knew that the illness that put me in my bed would soon kill me. My body had degraded to a point of no return. I was to die in that bed. In my helplessness, I could no longer move my arms or legs. The medication they had put me on made sure that I felt no Earthly pain, but now my body’s pain didn’t matter. My life was over and I could do nothing; that is all the pain I would ever need.

In this state, I could do nothing but wait for the angel, wondering if it may be its last visit. It appeared in the moonlight again, as it always had. It whispered while it raised its wing. It used its claw to play on its wing. The music that played through its body was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Now, I lie here in my bed, having heard the angel’s harp, and I feel my last breath slipping from my soul. I look at the angel for the last time. I see its beauty in its sharp teeth and empty eyes, I hear the beauty of its screeching melody, I hear the beauty of its name whispered in my final moment.

β€œMalach HaMavet”

Credit To – KSS

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