This is an awesome flash fiction entry from @Kimmydonn.  Please read and Reblog/RT! 

.Sentry

How many decades had I sat here, watching this square? How long since I was cast down? Centuries, certainly. Centuries of watching people scurry beneath my feet, unmoving, unchanging.

As had occurred to me before, that was not so different from my compatriots, before my fall from glory, before my encasement in stone. Our ethereal bodies didn’t change, and we didn’t ‘move,’ not as humans did. In fact, most of them were as constrained as I, forced to watch their charges without ever really touching them, never quite reaching out.

It was maddening. Seeing the human you were sworn to protect have disaster strike and being able to do nothing more than shift a stone to hold a wall that was falling, not keep it up, just give the human enough time to escape, push the brakes of a speeding car a smidgen more so that it maimed instead of killing. Was it mercy? My fellow angels were never sure. They could still speak with me, even I couldn’t reply. More often, I heard when they spoke to one another.

None were here now, or if either of the humans at my feet had a guardian, he was not making himself known.

The dark clouds swirling over my head had cleared most of the crowd. The rain had just begun to fall, something I couldn’t feel, encased in stone, but my shell did, slowly pitting as acid eroded it. The tiny drops ate away my immortality. If I wasn’t released from this prison before it was destroyed, I would cease to exist. I harrowing thought for one who had never known death, even a life span of centuries seemed short compared to eternity.

Life was much more fleeting for the pair of humans at my feet. The woman clutching her bag and backing away from the man. Why did he pursue her? What would he gain? Some even more fleeting joy purchased with the contents of the bag? I tried not to watch, waiting for the storm to break and drive even them away.

My attention flew back when he produced a knife. He had the bag, now, but continued to threaten the woman. How many thefts had I witnessed? But this would be the first murder. This place was too open for that normally. I had witnessed death, a homeless human breathing his last on the steps beneath me, but not murder.

Lightning flashed, and I felt my shell. I felt the pitting, I felt the solidity, the stiffness, none of them things I had experienced before. I took the opportunity, the moment of reality, to move. Even slow, it was effective. My solid stone foot caught the man mid-stride, knocking him back. In the next flash of lightning, my shell was exactly as it had been, and I felt… nothing. Less than before, less than I had in centuries.

The woman stared up at the statue in wonder. “Thank you, Jesus,” she murmured before running with all the strength she had.

“Thank you,” I thought to her. She had helped me earn my way back into heaven. Eternity was mine again.

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