The Guardian

Do you know what it's like to see one of your charges murdered? Yes, you can try to imagine, but really, it's not possible.

I know.

I've seen.

I could see the grotesque plans forming in his mind as he assured her that his childish behaviour was now a thing of the past and that he would like to invite her to his house to watch the peculiar picture box humans seem to take so much pleasure in viewing.

I tried desperately to signal his hideous intensions to her, but alas, without success.

I felt each stab of the knife, each puncture the blade made in her skin. I watched her writhe in excruciating agony on the shabby lino floor. I saw the life drain from her features while a fire tore through my body in response. Every one of my appendages seemed to be wrapped in barbed wire.

The teardrops that cascaded down my cheeks burned like acid. I wept not only because of the pain we both felt, but also due to my failure to protect the delicate, fragile young human who'd called on me.

The hatred I felt towards the young male took shape inside me, and it began to transform my physical appearance.

My flowing hair, previously the colour of flame, darkened to a dull ash colour and the strands became lank. My halo was coated in a blood-coloured rust, now more similar to a bloody headband than a golden ring.

A black ink seeped through my dove-like wings, turning them pitch, and suddenly they were riddled with gaping, ragged holes. Nails and teeth elongated and sharpened until they resembled shards of broken glass, able to tear through mortal flesh with ease.

I threw myself at him, relishing the look in his eyes. His sadistic grin fell away, to be replaced with sheer horror.

I felt my talons dig into his eyes, my snapping jaws catching a hunk of flesh on his cheek. Several bones snapped as powerful feathered limbs made contact with his ribs, arms and legs. I delighted in his screams, his pitiful cries for help and mercy.

His thrashing limbs first weakened, then stopped completely. I beheld the life source abandoning his body, and revelled in it.

I prowled around the house, waiting for the arrival of the human peace-keepers. When they came two days later, I made certain the human boy would be buried in a murderer's grave - arranging everything in the house just so. I even requested the help of a pack of wild canines, who were more than glad to help. For their troubles, I granted them permission to each take a small part of him.

It was concluded that these dogs had attacked and killed the boy.

As a last gesture of devotion to my human, I scooped her essence from her body, and carried her to her final place of rest, where she is at last at peace.

(This story is credited to a person called VendettaVixen.)