Amredin didn't like such places. They made his wings dizzy, inciting an irresistible urge to flee. Unfortunately, a Guardian Angel doesn't choose where he wants to be. Like it or not, he follows a person.
Ralph sat exactly as he left him. Propping his head on both hands, he stared at the empty bottles of vodka.
The pub was one of the worst in the city. It was swarming with drunks and criminals, and Evil hung heavy in the air. Although the main scent was the smell of burning cigarettes. It was difficult to spot anyone standing three meters away. The entire room was filled with a thick, gray fog. At such moments, the Angel was glad his Creator hadn't gifted him with the ability to smell. The place was painted a dark, repulsive color. In the corners, unswept for years, spiders had carved out their own kingdom. Cockroaches scurried along the walls, unchecked. People sat staring blankly into glasses churning with an amber liquid of unknown origin. Occasionally, a stray cockroach would fall in. If it didn't drown first, it would perish in the drinker's powerful jaws.
Most people in the bar no longer had their Angels. They were alcoholics suffering from depression with no prospects for the future. Even the Devils weren't interested in such people.
Amredin spotted only two Angels. One stared blankly at his protégé; he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The other was swatting a fly away from an old, toothless bartender dozing off on a stool. He also spotted a Devil. He sat alone, drinking beer, not in the best of moods. Contrary to appearances, they weren't much better off than the Angels. Leading someone astray became so easy that after a while, it became tedious. And on top of that, television and the Internet were taking away the Devils' jobs. No wonder they were breaking down too. More and more of them began coming to the "Under the Broken Wing" tavern to drown their sorrows in alcohol with the Angels.
A sharp blow to the back interrupted the Angel's thoughts.
"Amredin! Old friend!" The sooty Devil smiled at him amiably.
"Bernt! What's up!?
They'd been friends since time immemorial. Even back when Bernt was an Angel.
" "Come on! The old man is furious with me for saving a girl from drowning. Did he send me on a three-day training course on "How to Overcome Good Reflexes?"
Amredin laughed.
"Oh, you still have some Angel traits. You never became a true Devil, and you probably never will.
" "And what's a true Devil supposed to be like?" That's silly talk. I've never been a true Angel either.
They began to reminisce… How Bernt had switched the key to the Gate, so St. Peter couldn't open it just as St. Faustina arrived. Or how he had untuned the angels' harps on the day of a concert honoring Elvis Presley. And how he had cut the Archangel Gabriel's robe so that it fell off while he was delivering a sermon on modesty. All of Heaven laughed. Except for the Archangel Gabriel, of course.
"Oh, Bernt, Bernt, you were always causing trouble.
" "Yes, now I'm causing trouble too… It's nice to hear my old name from a friend.
" "What's that old name?" Amredin asked, surprised.
"They changed it. They thought it was too angelic. Now I'm called Wazygard.
" "Ooooh… that's really terrifying," laughed the Angel, and the Devil joined in.
When they had calmed down, Bernt asked him what he was doing. He nodded at Ralph, who was sitting next to him.
"Hmm... A hopeless case," the Devil muttered.
"You have no idea how bad it is. I have absolutely no idea what to do to get him back on track.
" "A tough case. There are plenty of them these days." Bernt pondered. "Maybe a little accident? Remember, you can always count on me in these matters." He winked at the Angel.
"I don't think it'll help. He has nothing to lose."
The Devil's face lit up. "Or maybe..."
Ralf reviewed his entire life. Raised in a normal Christian family in the poorest part of town, he quickly fell in with bad company. He dropped out of school because it was so boring. He was sent to a reform school for three years for breaking into a jewelry store. After his release, he began working physically, getting drunk every day, spiraling ever deeper into decline. And all this along with his friends, two of whom were currently serving time, three of whom had gone abroad, and one of whom had committed suicide. This last course of action seemed most appropriate to him. Suicide… Suddenly, it was as if something, or someone, had lifted him from his chair. He glanced around anxiously, but saw no one. His feet moved of their own accord toward the exit. With a dancelike gait, so unlike himself, he left the bar. He didn't know what was happening to him. Had he had too much to drink? Yes, that was definitely it. He tried to stop his legs and lead them back to the bar, but it was no use. So he stopped resisting and let himself be led, wondering what would come of it all. He passed other stuffy bars; dirty and stinking tenement buildings; liquor stores and brothels. He entered a narrow, forest path he'd never noticed before. He finally reached the shore of a lake. He stopped above it and caught sight of his reflection in the water. He noticed that he hadn't shaved in a long time. He looked older than he actually was. Suddenly, his mouth dropped open, though he didn't want to say anything. He heard his own words:
"Look at the state you've gotten yourself into. Aren't you ashamed?" Ralph felt something akin to shame.
"I should shave," he thought. But the voice, and it was his, continued.
"It's not about whether you shave or not. It's about your whole life."
The voice seemed to change tactics and said,
"I'm happy because I want to be happy. I want to be happy, and that's why I'm happy."
Ralph considered his words. I want to be, and I am... How simple.
"There's someone who loves me and is always with me. I can always turn to them for advice or help. And I'll always get an answer, because they love me.
Who is it? Who loves me and wants to help me?"
He heard the faint rustle of wings, and another figure was reflected on the water. She stood next to him in a gray, soiled cloak, with feathers sprouting from her back. He thought she whispered,
"It's me."
But when he looked next to her, he couldn't see anyone, but she was still visible on the water's surface. The figure smiled at him sympathetically.
"I'll always be here," he heard, and felt a warm, friendly touch on his shoulder. After a moment, only Ralph's figure was reflected in the lake. He knew, however, that someone was standing beside him, and that they had always been there, but he was unaware of it.
He stood for a moment longer by the lake's shore, admiring the sunset and breathing in the clean, refreshing air. Returning home, he marveled at the chirping of crickets and the hooting of an owl on its hunt. It was all so beautiful. He wondered why he hadn't seen it before. He returned with a deep conviction that everything would work out. And he was no longer alone.
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