On the Wings of Hope: Prose

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“Greeting, people!” Angel smiled.

“And who might you be, we wonder?” they muttered.

“I am a son of God,” answered Angel. “I have come to aid you.”

“We didn't call for you!” they have bitten.

“Of that, I know,” replied Angel. “That's why I have come to you.”

“Because you weren't expected?” men burst out laughing.

“No, because you would never call for me yourself.”

“The stub is clear, the day is ended,” they have been mocking. “We are living pretty well even without ones like you!”

“Oh, that I see,” Angel has sighted. “Have already collected stones to banish us, have you?”

“What was that?” a shout came from a crowd.

“Throw away your stones from the bosoms,” said Angel. “Better, if on the road.”

“Well, you know,” people have choked. “What if they will still be of some use to us?”

“Going to throw them in the sky, are you?” Angel smiled. “Or have you forgotten of the gravitation invisible?”

“We have forgotten nothing! Of all the natural laws we are aware of, taming it!”

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