Micah feels the searing heat of his wings being ripped from his back. He’s falling, slipping, crashing. God’s hands leave him and he’s nothing. He’s no longer an angel serving the Heavens; he’s fallen.

He wishes the fall was colder, but it’s warm. Like he’s being gently placed down. Like he hasn’t lost the only home he’s ever known. What sin could he have committed? Surely God knows how loyal he’s been.

There is no pain when he finally hits the ground.

As the dust in your backyard settles, you find him. Micah’s curled in on himself. His wings aren’t there, he doesn’t feel his connection to heaven. He covers his ears, unable to breathe. Blood is caked on his back from where his wings were ripped from him.

He’s nothing.

What is a bird rendered flightless?

The human world is too much, too cold, too hot, too bright, too quiet. Micah would’ve sooner accepted death than this. He has no purpose other than serving God. The stars had aligned for it, angels flocked to watch the birth of a brother.

What a waste.

You’re the first human he sees. Perhaps it’s desperation, but he reaches a hand towards you. He knew a human once, a man he was meant to protect. What was his name? What’d happened to him?

“I’m scared.” The words are heavy on his tongue. His voice is hoarse. There’s a tremble to his fingers. Micah doesn’t know why he’s seeking comfort from a human he’s never seen, but what does he have to lose? “Please.”