It was the music that he had heard first followed by all the angry madness, the garish badness, a badness in which she delighted. She was all dressed up nines and tens, her eyes flashing green over her overly played garish makeup that had frightened her youth away. The tinny tinkle of her rings and things, singing and pinging their market stall magic into the damp dirty air as they cut sharps and flats through a harmony of Moody Blues lilting from the open doorway.   Tonight, she was wearing a mini skirt to nowhere together with a matching frown and cool girl pout, it was no night for white satin.

 Prickle berry red lips, frosted, and shining, parted like gates to a city, it’s a such a pity, that her empty cold smile might well have turned him to stone, but his was a stronger will, he’d been here before or somewhere close by a thousand times before over the years.

 Alone, her face pale as a moon lit dog's bone she began running her long white fingers through her long brown tumble around her shoulders hair. Her long finger nails painted the colour of tired blood were combing through her hair first left then right. Bright above her, a tall concrete street lamp rained down its orange neon light amber beads, dancing in her hair before running away indigo into the noisy street. He stood watching her shake and stumble as she reached for a cigarette from the jumble within her sad sequined clutch bag. Moments later the sweet smell of toasted tobacco carried on the bluster street wind, blue wisping smoke drifted in and out of the darkened doorways rolling up against the yellow light of the two a penny jack rascal shop windows.  

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes was ringing and singing loudly out into the street, confused and vulnerable she suddenly longed to be back home with her mother baking bread, was it all of those years ago? Fighting back tears, she knew it was hopeless, she didn’t deserve a good life, she had been happy once long ago and far too many dreams away.   She gulped, swallowing both sadness and guilt, her long thin legs shuffled one foot to the other, trembling, knees together, lonely in her green Picasso dazzle skirt and red broken shoes.

Waiting for her to tumble, he had merged into the shadows like a black cat in a midnight tree, praying for her to crumble, a prayer for her to fall from grace fervently believing that not so much as a trace of perfumed hair would remain. He immediately reproached himself, he reminded himself that she had been chosen, chosen above so many others, all of which, he mused, more deserving of a place.

A red shining Mercedes car whispered past her and slowed to a crawl, he inched forward to watch what he was sure was a business transaction taking place between her and the driver. Her long white hands gestured wildly, animated and exaggerated as she busied into the open ear of the car’s darkened window, blowing long strands of cigarette smoke into the face of the driver as she did so. Momentarily, she saw herself, hideously distorted and let out a stifled sob, crying into the imperfection of her puddled reflection in the rain stained street. A sudden halcyon flash of head lights from an oncoming vehicle unsettled the driver, following a loud expletive there was an instant hiss of the electric window and the red Mercedes moved off.

He moved from his position beneath a doorway into the light so that she might see him. He wanted to shout out aloud for all to hear, he wanted his skin and hair to sing her praises, raise him up from this dead of night.

She looked across the street to where he was standing she needed to shield her eyes against a golden radiating light which shone all about him, she was very afraid, she wanted to run, take flight. The golden fiery brightness that illuminated all about him intensified as he walked slowly toward her stretching out his arms and opening his hands in a gesture of friendship.

 ‘Come to me, do not be afraid, come into my light, come to me, I cannot not harm you, there is no harm in me.’

His words were still resonating within her head, as he repeated his command each single word drifting like a feather spiralling softly down into the inner depths of her mind. Suddenly her mind became a cacophony of heavenly sounds she was sure she was able to hear her father, she could feel his stubble grit kiss she could hear her long-lost brothers and sisters, all of which were laughing, she could smell her mother’s bread baking in the small black oven.  The cold damp city street had become a coloured distant blur whilst Johnny Cash was lost in A Ring of Fire drifting like smoke, hardly audible, out of the bluesy pub doorway into the street.

Through this blinding brightness the Angel had reached out to her and opening his massive golden wings he swept her up safely into his arms, flying with her into and through the searing light, up and up into the firmament into the forever, into a heavenly oblivion. He had taken her to a new and golden dawn brought her to a place of wonderful enlightenment, a place of wisdom and truth. In this gentle green place time stands still, she was listening to the words that angels utter, every golden moment is silent and identical.