"How I fell - An Angel´s Story" by Emma Lydia Bates

I fell a while ago. It doesn’t really bother me that much any more – after all, I’m in high-and-mighty company doing it. People – angels – can make an almighty fuss about going from the side of the light to the side of the dark, from the good to the bad, from up there to down here, whatever your euphemism of choice is. I like to tell it how it is. I fell. That’s life.

         It was a ridiculously minor issue, in the way that a schoolchild gets expelled for the last small transgression in a list of hundreds. The final straw. The mattress that stops you from noticing the pea. However you want to put it.

         It was a moral issue, and I didn’t even get to see the big boss about it. You know the big boss. The top cat. You know. G – O – D. Nope, just some lesser seraphim, and even then they only sent a message on a cloud. It’s like being dumped by text if you’re human. They didn’t even come in person. That’s one thing I prefer about being down here. Surprisingly, people get treated much better. I don’t mean the mortal souls, obviously, but the demons get great service. The view’s rotten, but seriously, there isn’t that great a difference between this and life on the other side of the clouds, so to speak.

         Anyway. It was minor. I was on guardianship at the time, and although I can do the guardian bit as well as any other subordinate winged drudge, this time… well. They’d promised me a world leader, which was quite an honour. I mean, you still get eight hours of sheer boredom every night while they’re snoozing (why do you think Margaret Thatcher and Napoleon were so successful? Their guardian angels were less bored) but at less the other 16 hours in the day might be somewhat more exciting.

         What they didn’t tell me was that this particular world leader wasn’t currently a world leader. They’d given me a future world leader. Being more specific, someone who would become a world leader in about forty years. Someone who was currently all of eleven months old.

         Angels are sexless. Outwardly, our appearance is that of one sex or another (if we’re of human shape, rather than being burning pillars of flame) but inwardly, we have no characteristics generally associated with one sex or the other.

         Demons, on the other hand, most definitely have sexes. And to be honest, when I fell, it didn’t surprise me that I turned out to be male. That’s my defence. I’m male. All babies look the same to me.

         And yes, I should have been sensing its aura and checking that it was still the same baby that I was ceaselessly watching, but nobody actually does that. I mean, how hard can it be to watch a baby and send the odd hope-vibe to it? Prayers aren’t all that hard to answer when thoughts revolve around two things – food, and mum.

         Well, clearly, yes, it can be hard. That much was made clear to me.

         And yes, sending hope-vibes to the wrong baby probably was a mistake, especially considering that particular other baby was to grow up to be the Antichrist.

         But how was I to know?

         It was a mistake anyone could have made. If they knew I was going to be crossing paths with the Antichrist, why did they send me? I’m not… I wasn’t well known for my general reliability. I worked best with teenage boys. Prayers concerning football and girls are also easy to answer.

         So they didn’t have to push me. Yes, that is what’s called, at least in angelic slang. They push you – you fall. Or, in theory, you ask for redemption and it’s granted. Which I’d done a few times before, with all the other minor mistakes I’d made. They didn’t deserve pushing either. I mean, I gave the little boy an interest in art, not politics! It wasn’t my fault he was bad at it and bitter about that.

         I just didn’t feel like asking again. I’d done my best. I’d had enough.

         So, I fell.

         And like I said, it didn’t really bother me. The work’s not so different – you’re just inspiring different people. Everyone needs a change, and a job’s a job.

         Besides, everyone says I make a much better demon. Mistakes get you rewards around here. Who cares about angels? This is the death.