Candle

Dark Angel Wings Image

I saw her through the candle light and knew she was the one. The flicking flame made her blonde hair sparkle and shimmer in different yellow shades. I took a sip of my drink and watched her collect the glasses from an emptying table.  The loud music of the bar deafened her words to the leaving group.

As she walked, I moved the candle in its red holder after her. The small light gave her a halo I’d never seen around anyone else before. She stopped at another table, picked up two empty bottles and moved to the bar. I stopped the candle and waited. Nursing my coke and rum, I tried to focus on hearing her.

However, we were both cut off as Five Finger Death Punch pounded out of the speakers. Some moshers/rockers went crazy. A glass was smashed and voices rose with the lyrics. I had to watch her roll her eyes and weave over to the mess. I wanted to call her back to me, thus stopping her from entering danger.

I shouldn’t have been so naïve! She knew the place and people well. With an expert hand, she cleared up the glass and dried the floor. A young man, who looked barely old enough to be in here, helped her. His grin, in the candle light was innocent. He meant her no harm and though interested, he was in love with another.

That other joined them, eager to dance and drink more. They waved my blonde off and she walked back to the bar. There were always more tasks to do. Whilst she disappeared, I finished my drink. The spice of the rum warmed me and the sugar in the cola gave me a rush. The music continuing to fill the air, add to these feelings.  I watched the dancers and marvelled at the mosh pit. How could something seemly similar to fighting be so energetic?

I frowned at my glass and pushed it away. I was tempted to get another, but I’d have to leave my table. That meant someone could take it from me and I’d be powerless to stop them. The song changes, something slightly slower, though I didn’t know the band. Once I only had ears for classical and heavenly music, but since having to stay here I’ve become more open. Now, I listened to everything that could be classed as heavy metal and rock. It calls to me in a way I can’t fully understand. The often fast pace of the music and the loud singing feels like a release.

My eyes catch something in the candle light, she’s come back. I watch her moving in flat black shoes across the floor, collecting more glasses in washing tub. She makes her way over to me and I see the clothes she’s wearing clear for the first time; black pants and light blue t-shirt with the bar’s logo in the corner. She collects the glasses from the nearby tables and then comes for mine.

Her thin fingers and delicate hand touch the glass and transfer it to the tub. I stare at her and notice the way her hair frames her face. Her blue eyes, covered too heavily in green eye shadow fall on to me. Her lips bright red, slightly drop and then she bites the bottom one. There’s a cross around her neck.

There’s a lull in the music and I shout, ‘I know it’s wrong, but can you please get me another drink? I’m waiting for someone and need to stay here.’

‘Oh,’ she gasps, ‘We don’t do that here.’

I pull my wallet out and flash some notes. I hand them to her and she frowns. As she goes to refuse again, I use what little powers I have to convince her to help me. A Slipknot song blasts out and my words are suddenly lost. Luckily, it seems to have worked and nodding, she goes back to the bar.

I watch her and can’t but help notice how her walk has changed.

I hate myself.

Rubbing my face, I turn back to the moshers. They are jumping in their circle and seemingly pushing each other around. Long hair flies about the place and there are flashes of skin and metal. There’s a tap at my elbow and I look up to see she has come back. The glass goes down on the table along with some notes.

I turn to thank her, but she spins away and huffs back to the bar. I rise, determined to follow and apologise. Abruptly a figure detaches itself from the side lines and comes towards me. I sit down, guarding the table and the figure walks past acting uninterested.

Sipping my drink, I watch her, but she is no longer the same person as before. Her aura has dimmed and boarders on changing colour. I study the table and contemplate. I can’t believe this thing that I’ve become. These habits I’ve picked up and this lie I’m living. I down the drink, fist the notes and go outside.