She was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my whole 26 years of my miserable life. Her hair was black as the darkest midnight and her eyes always shone with a heavenly light. There was dancing and laughter in face always reflected by the moonlight.

I saw her first on summer night 2 months ago. That night I felt stifled by the heat and disturbed by the endless drone of musically inclined mosquitoes. I tried hard to attain nirvana through sleep and failed. Restless and annoyed I went to the terrace with a cigarette on my lips.

As I was standing on the terrace with a gentle breeze soothing my body and mind I saw a flicker of movement at a corner. And there she was standing looking towards the church spire with a solemn look in her face.

I couldn’t help myself from staring at her. I racked my brains and could not place her face anywhere. She wasn’t from this building I knew for sure. Or maybe was she? A relative of someone who has come here very recently?

Then she turned towards me and smiled at me.

Did I say that I was floored? Yeah I was. I wanted to say something (anything) to her but found that I had got a speech impediment.

She came near me and again looked towards the horizon. She was comfortably close enough to me that I felt uncomfortable. I could not feel any discomfiture in her. So I followed her gaze towards the horizon.

When the sun broke free on the distant horizon I realized she was no longer there beside me. Wondering where she was I went back to sleep.

The next night I was there again on the terrace hoping to see my Angel again. I had come to associate her with an angel. Just when I was about to leave after an hour or so I found her standing beside me again. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. By daybreak she was gone again.

The next two nights she was not at our usual place at the terrace.

The third night when we met again I gathered up enough courage to speak to her.  She never answered me about a few questions though. She wouldn’t tell me exactly where her house was. She always answered that she lived quite close by. She never told me her name. I always called her my little angel.

The angel did miracles for me. I was always happy. I was always smiling. I was always helping others and I thought there really was a God and He loved me.

Two months flew by. It felt like the longest ever high one could have ever had without side effects. We always seem to talk forever during the nights but I knew precious little about her. We talked about everything possible under the sky and beyond. The happiest days of my life.

One fine day she never turned up. I waited in despair and anxiety for a week, but no Angel. After a week I even started calling out her name out loud in the vain hope that she will hear me and come back. I wondered if she had gone back to the place where she came from. I wondered if she had come here only for summer vacation. I wondered if she could have had an accident. Maybe she just lost interest in me. I was in turmoil and pain and disbelief.

I decided to find who she was and where she lived. I tried all the flats in my apartment building to no avail. I was desperate now. I enquired at the nearby tea shop. The owner did not know she was. I was perplexed. I asked the nearby grocery shop, they thought I was weird asking about a girl without a name and only with vague descriptions.

As I was walking out of the grocery shop I was stopped by an old man. He told me a story about a girl of the same age and extraordinary beauty who was murdered a couple of years ago in the building where I stayed. I stood transfixed. The old guy nodded understandingly and walked away.

That night I waited again on the terrace. Within a minute she materialized before me. She asked “Why Anwin, why? Why did you have to find more about me?”

With reproach in her voice and accusation in her eyes she disappeared. I’ve been waiting for her every night. Sometimes I can feel her beside me. But she has never spoken to me or appeared before me again.

But I still wait. I know she will come back one day. I know it as sure as the sun sets in the west and rises in the east. She will come back for me. I will wait for her until my dying days.

Note: This is not a horror/love story. Some people who read this blog or know about me know that sometimes I get the vivdest dreams. You may remember one more story I wrote some months ago after having one of those dreams. This story is also like that. I saw this girl on the terrace (in my dreams of course) who seemed to float towards me and speak to me. She was all white and glimmering with goodness. The gist of the story came to me then. So I wrote it now.

A month passed…

The old man awoke one fine day and weakly called for the Monk. Immediately word was sent that the old man wished to speak to the Monk.

“I have brought word from Rome, from the highest orders. Your time has not come. This is not your war. The sign will be RED. You are to await for the sign.”

“But…”

“You have looked after me like a Son. Now listen to me. I know you want to get this over with. That is your destiny. But it will not be when you expect it to and now. You will have to wait for the sign. You will be tested by the Evil One and his many forms and minions. You have a long way to go beset with perils unknown. Bless you, Son”.

With a sigh of expelled breath, the old man died!

I won’t be reading anyone’s blogs or updating my blogs until next monday. So, here is something to keep my unseen readers occupied.

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An old man knocked on the gates of the monastery. It was nearly three in the morning. The wind was cold and it was snowing heavily. A bell rang in the courtyard.

After ten minutes the Monk opened the gates. He found a frail old man at the gates. He was shivering in the cold. He had nothing but a cassock of sorts on his thin body. The monk carried the old man to his quarters where there was a fire burning in the fireplace. The old man had a raging fever and was delirious. After a quick word with another monk hot tea and blankets were brought in. The Monk kep a silent vigil over the old man.

At the break of dawn the Monk went to his usual place at the top of the mountain. The sun rose and the Monk walked away with a slight disappointment on his otherwise impassive face.

The old man at the Monk’s quarters did not get better that day. He was looked after by other monks now and was put in a special room. He was never left unattended for a moment and the Monk checked on him every hour or so in between his prayers and other chores.

He was at a loss as to why he had not received a sign yet. He prayed to the Heavenly Father to show the sign. He knew he had a lot of work to do when the sign is shown. The inactivity was getting on his nerves. He tried to calm himself as he prayed and looked after the old man.

A month passed…

Raphael flunked his exams.

I am sure we all know the reason why. Most schools don’t pass you out if you don’t write a single word in your exam papers. It was one month since the absence of Raphael at hell’s school and so he was flunked by default.

By this time, the Dark Lord had found out that Raph had been adopted by God to be His Holy warrior. So there was a ban in hell with pain of eternal burning in hell for Raph.

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On one of the obscure mountain ranges by a frozen spring, a monk stood on one of the highest peaks. It was early morning and he was looking towards the east. He was young, in fact much too young for a monk in these parts. His face was strong with dark brown eyes.

He stood there for over and hour until the sun was bright enough to be morning. With a shrug of his shoulders, he walked away to the monastery located a little farther down. Many other monks were waiting expectantly at the courtyard. By the look on his face they understood that there was no special news.

Inside his room, the Monk sat down in the lotus position and started meditating.

Long time since I’ve written a short story. Jo was killing me everyday and nagging me every other day for not writing a storey for a long time. So here goes…its a bit long…forgive me…

It was a chance meet. Call it fate, call it destiny or call it just plain coincidence. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened when we two met again.

And then she walked away.