една притча..

да прощавате че е на английски, но така ми дойде..

angels exist.. they've always did.. but little was done to understand those delicate creatures and even less to distinguish them from ourselves.. in order not to be punished because of their difference, angels were forced to take human shape, while walking on earth..

and as usual for most people things they didnt see didnt exist.. like i said --for most people..

along came george.. he was a human.. bu no ordinary human he was.. he knew the angels existed.. eversince he was born he knew that there was something higher than his own race.. something in the clouds that helped to shape the destinies of mankind in a softer form -- one that would eventually grant a good life..

this one time as he went for a drink in a pub he knew that an angel was there -- he couldnt see it, but he knew it was there.. he could scence the presence.. smell the devine scent.. he could almost hear the wings flapping.. but he never saw the angel..

until he had a dream -- and in this dream he saw his angel -- gabrielle..

from that dream on george and gabrielle were connected.. whatever gabrielle would have in mind, george would know.. whatever tortured gabrielle would also torment george..

as george was walking he rubbed his shoulders.. something was wrong.. gabrielle was tired of flying and he knew it.. somehow gabrielle had left all hope.. george was afraid that gabrielle might even fall and die..

but angels dont fall.. neighter do they die..

a storm raged inside george's head and soul -- he could feel the angels despair and loneliness.. a feel he knew so well.. a feel he knew would only do harm.. but what to do? how to prove gabrielle wrong?

you are not alone -- you hear me? you are not alone -- yelled george.. and there was noone to hear him.. i mean angels do hear all human beings .. they hear them at the same time.. it is hard to differ all the voices.. to distinguish a prayer from a curse.. but angels could do it..

gabrielle turned.. as strangle as it seemed somebody was calling directly.. nothing.. just the silence.. "i am hearing things.. " thought gabrielle ..

and so george's message was unheard..

with one choice left george cut his arm and begun writing on the ground with his own blood..

he wrote a message to gabrielle.. he wrote about the way he felt.. about how he could sence the angels feelings.. he wrote about how no being was alone.. how everyone had something.. somethings he caries inside.. somethings that makes us not alone.. he wrote about the essence of loneliness.. what makes us feel alone.. he wrote about himself.. how he was left alone, but yet he did not feel that way for he carried in his heart and mind so many things that he could not ever feel alone..

as george finished he was barely alive.. he could feel the life slowly slipping away.. but he didnt mind.. he was happy that he did it..

yet he was worried -- gabrielle had not yet read it.. george was hoping that one day as the angel flew over the land he would see the message.. he hoped that the angel would read it.. he hoped that angel would never ever feel alone and mark the words colored in his blood..

and then the most amazing of them things happened.. a pair of snow-white wings appeared on george's back.. his wounds healed.. he felt strong again..

for his devotion george was awarded.. he did what only angels would do -- he helped a stranger without expecting nothing in return..

***

понеже притчите се предполага да имат някаква поука.. въпреки че това не е точно притча.. мисля че мога да формулирам някаква поука все пак..

самотата е измамно чувство.. самотата е онова нещо което ни кара да се чувстваме слаби когато сме далеко от хората които чувстваме близки.. но ние не сме сами -- никога..

винаги има някой до нас -- може и дори да не го знаем, но има.. както джордж е до габриел.. важното е и да носим някой със себе си..

ангелите -- ангелите са хора, които помагат на другите, без да очакват нещо в замяна.. добрите дела не умират -- съответно и хората които са ги сторили..

но дори и добър човек може да се отчая.. може да загуби надежда.. може да го заболят крилата и да се умори да лети..

надеждата е хубаво нещо (се казваше в един филм) вероятно най-хубавото нещо на света (след любовта добавям аз) .. нещо заради което си струва да се бориш и дадеш живота си дори..

и последната поука предполагам ще е -- никога незнаеш къде ще намериш подкрепа.. може да я получиш от най-малко очаквания човек..

п.п.
и както казах в едно предно произведения.. гениалните неща ги забравих.. останаха само проклетите клишета и паразитните изрази.. така че не ме критикувайте много..