The Broken Angel

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. Clara was busy arranging plushy tiger cubs in a row, pausing here and now to push her hair back, a habit she had adopted ever since her hair had grew to the extend that it hit her ankles whenever she walked.

“Could you please tie it up in a bun?”, her mama would always ask annoyingly.

But she couldn’t care less. Her hair was the colour of sunrise, bright yellow with a little bit of orange. She wore her hair with pride. In fact, she was very much pleased with her outlook. She had bright blue eyes, the colour of the ocean. Behind her back, were two large feathery wings, the colour of evening primrose. And her halo, she had had it since she was three, something that nobody else in her community had. Her halo would change colour according to her mood- a scarlet red when she was angry, pink when she was happy, turquoise when she was sad. A band of aurora would appear when she had a mixture of different feelings all at once. People would say that she carried the colours of the world-a high compliment. They secretly discussed whether she would be the next successor of the throne, just like her father.

“Tomorrow’s the day dear! Are you done with your packing?”. Her mama yodeled in. Clara continued scribbling a mathematics formula on her make shift paper board, with the tiger cubs as her audience. “You know, when I was your age, I like to arrange dolls in a row and teach them English too. See, I’m a teacher now.” Her mama continued.

This made Clara looked up. “Well, I don’t want to be a teacher. I want to save the Earth. Like how saint Theresa did.  She distributed food and clothing to the poor”

Her mama laughed. “We have different roles in saving the Earth, my child”.

Clara rolled her eyes exasperatedly. She had signed up for a mission team. Every year, this mission team send little angels to the Earth to give food and clothings to humans in need. It was a crucial step in helping with rescuing the human race project. This year, it was finally Clara’s turn to go. Clara had been anticipating this journey so much that she couldn’t sleep for the past one week. She was determined to change the Earth upside down. She wanted to make a difference.

One, two, three. Whoosh! Clara was swooped up in a whirling tornado. When she opened her eyes again, she saw humans bustling about in a hurried pace. She was on Earth. The humans were jostling against each other to get into a long machine. “What is this thing?”, Clara asked a young boy beside her. “It’s a train”, the boy looked at her skeptically. “Oh, really. Just trying to be funny, ha-ha”, Clara knew she had almost given her identity away. It was a dangerous thing to do on Earth. She had read books about it and shuddered at the thought.

 The train haltered to a stop. Clara hopped down along with the other humans and was eager to start her mission immediately. She had to find an old woman living along Richard lane. So much was her eagerness that she did not notice a group of students following her. They cornered her at an alley and eyed her hungrily.

“You’re an angel, aren’t you?”, a young boy asked. The same boy on the train. One girl flapped her arms exaggeratedly, trying to imitate a flying angel. The others sniggered. “Yes I am”, Clara answered bravely, hoping that she would not regret this decision to break the law in the angel realm. No one had done this before. “I’m here to help.” Clara lifted her chin proudly. Humans aren’t that bad-humans are kind and understanding. Clara thought to herself.

“You angels are so self-righteous”. The same boy again.

“Your kind sat above us, high up in the skies for thousands of generations. All you all did was watch.”  Sarcasm.

“Where were your kind when war broke out? When waters swept my home away? When my baby brother died of frog disease? And the last time the devil prompted my mum to jump from the 10^th floor? Guess you were merrily dancing above the skies.” Clara could clearly hear hatred ringing out from every syllable.

Her halo turned scarlet. Couldn’t these humans understand? “But we were always there to help! We knew you humans were in trouble. We gave you food and clothing.”

With that, the humans pounced on Clara in rage. They tugged at her robe and and snipped her hair. Tears welled up as she saw strands of yellow and orange littered the floor. “No, no! Please, stop!” It was useless. The colours of sunrise. Her most prized possession. Her pride. It was ruined.

“Let’s see how she can fly back without wings.” The girl giggled. 

“No…no…please…”, Clara began sobbing and pleading. “I will die without wings.” 

But it was too late. They began plucking at her feathers even though she tried to overcome their restrain. The pain was unbearable. In fact, it was pain she had never felt before. She screamed and flailed wildly, lashing out and kicking with every ounce of strength left.  As the floors were scattered with broken feathers, so was her faith scattered towards humanity. The love that she had once felt for humans had turned into hatred.

Is this what she deserved? Aren’t humans supposed to repay kindness with kindness?

Broken, hurt and terribly afraid, Clara quickly wandered the streets seeking for shelter. It was turning dark. She found a cardboard box and squeezed in thankfully. She had to settle for the night. And so Clara remained settled for a night… two nights…three nights…Soon, days became weeks and weeks became months. Clara was left on Earth for one year.  For one year, Clara had lived on scraps to survive. Some humans would occasionally glance at her pitifully and give her human money. Some others would give her food. On same days, she just had to endure the hunger and the thirst. Not a single human cared whether she would survive the next day and the next day. No one would stop and hear her story. Oh, how she longed for someone to pick up her broken pieces, to cradle her in the arms and softly tell her that everything’s gonna be okay.

“It’s gonna be okay”, Clara whispered into the dark.

 “It’s gonna be okay”, Clara whispered into the silence.

“It’s gonna be okay”, Clara whispered to herself.

And that was the last straw. Clara broke down and cried, and cried, and cried. She had never cried so much in her entire lifetime. Hot tears brimmed on her cheeks and onto the cardboard. She finally understood why the humans hated her so much, and why she began to hate them so much. Because the greatest poverty that exist is not of hunger, thirst or the lack of clothes. The greatest poverty is loneliness and the lack of love; the longing to be acknowledged and to be understood. Behind every heart filled with hatred is a human who once loved deeply. Beneath every facade of coldness is a human who once tried to be kind. A lone ranger was a human who once tried to fit in. And behind every depressed and struggling souls, were humans who once had hope.

As Clara began to understand this, her hatred for humans began to fade away. Her feathers began to grow. She can feel her halo slowly changing colours- from scarlet red to a band of aurora and finally to pink.  Suddenly, there was a flash of big light and Clara was enveloped in a tornado. When she opened her eyes again, she was face to face with her father. Clara rushed to her father and was swept up in an embrace.

“Why didn’t you find me earlier?” Clara cried into her father’s arms.

“I was there all the time, Clara, I was there all the time. I never left your side.” Father patted her head and continued, “Your heart was filled with so much hatred that you could not see me nor hear me.”

Father continued, “Dear Clara, you see, hatred cannot drive out hatred, only love can do that.”

Clara knew that what she had gone through had left her broken, but through her brokenness she finally understood those who are hurting in a better light. She understood what it was like to be left alone, how it was like to longed for love, and that terrible feeling at trying to grasp for hope when all was lost. She knew now that her brokenness can inspire people more than her victories do. She wanted to reach out to those hurting. She wanted to spread love to the cold-hearted.

“Father, what I can do for this broken world?” Clara asked

“Can you be a counselor?”