Angels Can't Get Cancer

by The Tones

    The itch was back again and this time, it was stronger than ever. A sigh filled the air, soon to be followed by the scrambling of still-bloody fingers against denim as the man found his pack of cigarettes; cigarettes that he had promised to himself to discard earlier but never had. He was glad he hadn't now. He needed something to do with his hands that wasn't work related before he attempted to handle the crying bundle of mess that was the young girl that he had just saved from near death. Blood covered the both of them though none of it was theirs.

    Instead, the blood belonged to the man-turned-corpse on the ground beside the girl; his face bearing the same expression as all angels who had been damned; with a burning hand print on his forehead and his eyes burned to lumps of coal in his head with his mouth agape in death. The feathers from his now shedding wings were turning grey as the light from the former angel carrying them faded with his death. Cathriel had been his name.

    He lit up a cigarette, sighing in relief as the toxins hit the back of his throat and the poison filled his lungs. He didn't need this junk. He didn't suffer from nicotine withdrawals or any withdrawal for that manner. Not being human had its perks. Breathing smoke into the air he looked down at the girl once more; her crying having faded to nothing as she had fallen asleep from the exhaustion.

     Finishing his cigarette in a few more long drags he flicked the butt away before kneeling to the side of the girl.

    "Well," he said, "I'm Samael, and I guess I'm your new guardian angel. May God have mercy on your soul."

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