Angels - Chapter 1

The year was 1940. The world was writhe with war, poverty, and death. Bodies upon bodies, lay amongst the battlefields of war. Lives snuffed out like candlelight for the whims of power-hungry humans.

Humans, the scourge of the earth, polluting and killing. It gave way to the occupation of death walkers. Religion would call them demons. Depict them as horned, goat like beasts but this was far from truth.

They were humanoid, created by Death himself. Angels with black wings, created for the purpose of collecting and transporting souls from the human world back to the underworld where Death himself would decide where they belonged.

In contrast to the death walkers, were the life walkers. The white winged angels, depicted by religion as being holy beings. Their purpose was to provide life, give second chances, miracles. An ongoing battle ensued between them, life versus death.

The cities were quiet, silent, eerie as they walked through the blitz ravaged area. Fallen houses, bodies littered amongst the stray bricks and destruction.

Two death walkers were amongst it. A tall, muscular blonde-haired man alongside a tall, athletic black-haired man. Both wearing black suits, a large, hooded cloak surrounding each figure.

They worked quick, using their scythes to cut the bodies, an invisible gash that released the soul from the body but showed no evidence. Each soul raised from the body as they were transferred into a wooden urn, they both possessed.

They had gotten to the scene first before the life walkers. The bodies of men, women and the occasional child that wasn't evacuated lay lifeless before them. It was an awful job, but the death walkers knew nothing else. They were created for this purpose, there only meaning was the collection of souls.

The only sound in the streets were the echoes of their steps. The occasional distant sound of houses collapsing and screams from the area. The siren had subsided. The people would come out soon, to inspect the damage, to see whether or not tonight would be the night they would be homeless. The bomb shelters were close, they did not have time, they were not supposed to be seen by humans, they did not understand.

They were done here, all the souls were collected, it was time for them to take flight. The dark-haired angel walked forward, attaching his urn to his belt before turning to give the order.

When he turned, he was no longer in the destroyed street, there was a dark brick wall behind him, the smell of damp in the air. His fellow angel gone from behind him, he was imprisoned. Some kind of jail cell, but how had this come to be?