by David Green
“Why?” Ruby muttered to Nick.
They knelt beside the sleeping Suraz, his raven hair encrusted with filth and grease. Scabs and sores covered the Nephilim’s obsidian skin.
Track marks lined his exposed arms; used needles lay scattered around him.
“We all have vices,” Nick replied with a sigh.
“No,” Ruby whispered, tears in her eyes. “It’s like he wants to die, but he can’t.”
Nick grabbed a blanket and covered the fallen angel.
“He’s seen perfection.” Suraz’s eyelids fluttered as he dreamt a drug-infused dream. “Lived there, then got cast out. Never to return. I’d do anything to forget too.”
David Green is a writer based in Co Galway, Ireland. Growing up between there and Manchester, UK meant David rarely saw sunlight in his childhood, which has no doubt had an effect on his dark writings. He has been published in places such as Black Hare Press, Nocturnal Sirens, and Eerie River Publishing.
Twitter: @David Green (twitter account does not exist–anny)