Wings of Love: A Xmas Miracle

Chapter 1. The Angel from Heaven
Anakin Bailey, disenchanted with the downward spiral his life had taken—his head a Maelstrom of disassembled thoughts, contemplates his future precipitating into the abyss of oblivion. Unbeknownst to him, in the faraway realms of Heaven, a most enchanting angel was curiously peeking in the direction of Earth, catching an ephemeral glimpse of the solitude that was tearing away Anakin's heart…
Such things happen; gentle angels observing human misery and interceding with God's Grace to save the souls so deserving from the despair that sometimes subdues their existence. But this time, it was different. Our angel, the glowingly enchanting Hermione, had gone beyond the simple caring for our friend—the broken-hearted Anakin—and actually felt that magical tingle that angel's hearts are not supposed to feel.
And so, from that day on—precisely one month tis Christmas—Hermione, our lovely cherub, began peeking into Earth more often than angels are meant to. This kind of incipient affection, purest amongst any felt in the heavenly pastures, could not go unnoticed by the gentle Dumbleyoda, her wise tutor, who was in charge of Christmas miracles. So he summoned into his presence the sublime soul that is Hermione, and thus spoke, with the kindness that characterizes the purest, most virtuous spirits. "My dear child, sweetest among the celestial chorus, your heart I sense resonating more strongly towards Earth than our heavenly environs. Is there something you wish to tell me?"
"My noble and fatherly protector," Hermione humbly replied. "Back on Earth I feel a gentle soul pleading for help to alleviate his love sicken heart. I fear that his faith in Love is wavering and, if unchecked, could lead to lamentable consequences." "Yes," the kind master replied. "His will is breaking, and his life's candle fading. His feelings are cascading into an avalanche of emotional angst that, if uncontrolled, could lead him into the dark path of lost illusion. I presume you, my dearest protégé, are longing to aid him navigate this psychological journey that destiny has placed before him. Yet, I perceive something else, as if your involvement were more firmly rooted in a romantic feeling—you can not hide the sparkle in your eye when you talk about him—than in your usual affinity for seeking others' well-being."
Her rosy cheeks flushing, her celestial face radiating a glow that only humans—not angels!—are known to emanate, she had to confront the now evident truth, and accept it before her sage mentor. "Yes, my caring father," the adorable Hermione spoke with that melodically-captivating voice bested only upon the most special of angels. "My wings vibrate nervously when I discern him in the distance, and my halo brightens whenever the thought of him crosses my mind. I can not ascertain its nature, yet I have never felt anything resembling the intense emotions that consume me…"
Smiling knowingly, the good Dumbleyoda interrupted her. "My innocent Hermione," he tenderly whispered in her ear. "What you feel is nothing other than Love. Only the purest of angels are privy to that emotion." "But, what does that mean?", Hermione interjected abruptly, her curiosity, as usual, having gotten the best of her.
"It signifies, my young angel—whom I care for as if you were my own, that you are going to Earth to rescue this young man and, thusly, follow your heart to where
it wishes to be," said Dumbleyoda, trying to occult the paternal tears sliding down his cheeks.
"My heart?" Hermione, astonished by the revelation, eagerly inquired. "But I thought us angels could not dream of such a blessing as a heart. Am I capable to feel, to emote freely, just like humans do? I have never come across this possibility in my readings…"
"Yes, my impatient and quite prolific bookworm," the wise master charismatically
spoke. "Angels can feel, yet only the purest—those most attuned to their inner souls, those most capable and willing to love—can rejoice in the magnificence of unbound emotion. Turns out you, after all your incursions into gathering
knowledge and striving to discover things, ended up discovering what few do: That what you yearned for was not knowledge, but that magical thing called Love."
As Hermione was about to instinctively reply, as curious, wisdom-seeking angels do, she did something unusual in her: She remained silent. It had finally dawned on her: She was in love, and her search for who should be blessed by her passion would know no bounds, except those interposed by her uncertainty about how, precisely, could she, an angel residing in Heaven, indulge her heart and lure this luckiest-among-earthly-creatures towards her…
And is often the case with the affairs of the heart, little did she now that, unbeknownst to her, our good Anakin had begun to feel a glimmer of vaguely nascent
hope in the foggy vacuum of his love-deprived existence, as if Cupid's arrow had fatally wounded him...
Chapter 2: A spark of illusion: Mirage of Love?
Anakin felt an odd tingle, an oasis of illusion in a desert of desolation…Unable to yet understand its meaning, he promptly dismissed it—as the signs of Love, and specially True Love, are the hardest to discern—and shifted back his focus to the fabulously important event he had been training so hard for over the past few months: The Kessel Run, the most important race on Earth, were humans test themselves
to the limits and only the truly worthy—those able to raise above the challenge by sheer will and the unbreakable desire that stems only from the most sublime inspiration—are able to succeed.
And so, the Sun set…and rose again. The next day, it did the same, as it had obediently done for millennia—and perhaps longer. But this time, as Anakin's eyes opened, an oddness—which he could not yet assess in his still-half-asleep state—intrigued his overly-curious mind, summoning his heart into a delightful joy—a feeling hitherto unfelt in his experience, as regular humans are not to be offered
these privileges: Such rejoice can only be received when they have merited, through their noble deeds, admission into the heavenly pastures.
What could this mean?—he wondered. Could there be, amongst the vast spectrum of human emotion, an unchartered feeling he was been granted exclusive access to? Could this be related to the exquisite tingle he had—only two days ago—dismissed as romantic nonsense? Further, might this be somehow related with the unparalleled brightness the Sun, as it filtered through the blinds, was kindly bestowing upon him this most beautiful of mornings, just like the night bygone had kindled his heart with the luminous streak of light he, from his early forays into the study of the
heavenly spheres, had immediately identified as coming from the usually dimmer Venus?
Might there be unseen forces conjuring some magical incantation of passion of which he was invited to be the fortunate recipient? As his mind pondered these
mysterious intertwine between odd celestial phenomena and the future that lay ahead of him, the faint vibration of the phrase "…who knows? Lightning could strike…"—originating in front of him, from the film he had fallen asleep to the night before—awoke him from such absurdly convoluted day-dreaming and refocused his mind on the challenge that was, ever so imminently, drawing nearer: The fatidic race!
It's peculiar, how humans think. Just a few days ago, our good Anakin had been most excited about the upcoming event yet, in one of those epiphanies that sometimes spring from human minds, he had perceived, as strongly as he had ever before, that something was missing; he couldn't yet pinpoint it, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that this mysterious "thing"—as he could not yet clearly ascertain what it was—was the key that would complete the disjointed puzzle that was his life, and unlock the secrets of his existence. And so, his mind dumbstruck from this cryptic
revelation—if that's what it indeed was, he suddenly felt contempt, even disdain, from the world he now increasingly begin to consider had molded him away from his real self, and thus prevented him from finding what he truly seeked—whatever that was.
And that is why, two days ago, Anakin's darkest emotions had, unhindered, surfaced, swelling above the purity his heart had, till then, so profusely irradiated. Now they threatened to annihilate his zest for life, that priceless possession bestowed by our Gracious Lord upon the kindling of the flame that gave birth to human souls.
On that note, had this cold November, unprecedentedly-shiny Saturday morning begun, when Anakin woke up and readied himself for the race he no longer considered important. Yet, he had committed to undertake this task and he was not going to forego his honor: He would race…if only one happy thought could propel him from the dismay of disillusion and carry him over the course of the challenge he unwantedly was about to take on…
Chapter 3. Tear of Love
As Anakin battled against that most terrifying nemesis, the darkness latent in his inner-self, a delightful angel obediently listened to the last instructions kindly being offered by her counselor: "…and remember, you must not interfere with human
affairs. It is his task to complete, unaided he has to prove himself worthy. You are only permitted to observe, never to interact…"
"But how am I supposed to express that which I feel"?, inquired the ever-so-impatient Hermione. With his gentle arm, her protector lifted his finger to his
mouth—a sign interpreted by humans and angels alike as a request for silence, softly caressed her lovely wings, and offered his last bit of advice. "Go, my sweet child, past Venus, 'round the Sun and into Earth shall you journey. Go, my adored angel, seek and find that which your heart yearns so intensely for." And then, he smiled…
As Hermione covered the distance between Heaven and Earth, her path lead her towards Venus, where, with her radiant presence, she eclipsed the planet named by
the Greeks to honor the Goddess of Beauty. As she outshone Venus and swiftly stroked through the starry night, she rounded the far side of the Sun, her glowing face emerging over the near side…just as the early beams of sunlight indicating morning's arrival were hitting Earth, and waking Anakin up…
By the time she got to Earth, the rain had ceased; a most splendorous Arco iris—those that through their opulent magnificence end wars and restore faith in human's souls—was coinciding with her arrival…as if it were there for the sole purpose of greeting her.
The race has already begun, and as Anakin, struggling up a hill as if he were pushing Sisyphus' boulder, seemed to falter, he felt a glimmer of hope illuminating him from the sky. Could this be the happy thought he had—seemingly for eons—so strongly longed for? Could this ethereal force, guide him away from his recently unveiled dark emotions and show him the way towards the joy he so desired?—he silently wondered, as he looked up and saw nothing but unfriendly terrain ascending as far as his eyes—still sore from crying for the dream he so passionately
longed waking up to—could discern…
As she saw him losing strength, battling not the unmerciful road ahead, but the inner demons that obscured his heart, the pain corroding Anakin's will fused with her…and she let a tear drop: A tear of love tenderly being taken down by a gust of wind—as an autumn leaf would—and being carried off onto Anakin's forehead. Showered by this unexpected gift, he looked up…and saw a rose proudly blossoming from the ground, as if spring had suddenly arrived. Not knowing why, he picked it up and, as quickly as that villainous epiphany had summoned his heart into darkness, he felt an infusion of hope, as if the most perfect illusion were encapsulating his body, imprisoning him in feelings so joyful he had not, to that day, even dared to entertain the notion of imagining…
He wasn't despaired anymore. Somehow, without his knowing why, he felt someone guiding the way; his body miraculously brimming with energy that, though its source was yet undetermined, made him feel as if love-powered winds had suddenly been affixed to his corporeal frame, jetting him forward with unrestrained acceleration. His body was racing just like he always had dreamt, yet it didn't matter anymore, for what he was savoring was something else altogether. His heart was being rendered captive under an aura of magnificence preeminent above all feelings; that stealthy entity usually referred to as Love had, he instantly recognized, inescapably trapped him in its net. What was to be the guiding purpose of his life had finally manifested before him.
As this realization crystallized in his mind, he realized that this elusive Love, loftiest among feelings humans are permitted to flavor, had been in front of him throughout every step traveled during the voyage of his life: It was until now that he had finally allowed himself to unveil it. So close yet, so far away, he marveled as he wondered why it had taken so long for him to waken to this joyful experience…
And then, he heard it…a chorus of angels chanting "Twelve days of Christmas", that most captivating Christmas jingle he so dearly loved—yet didn't even know why. It is said that when an angel chooses to give her wings, the whole of Heaven bid her adieu by singing this song, for a Christmas love song is the most appropriate way to say goodbye to a dearly loved angel who has chosen the bliss of True Love over the Graces of Heaven.
As Hermione's wings dissipated into infinity, a déjà vu struck Anakin's mind: Wasn't this the song that he had, every single night since he could remember, heard in his dreams? Initially he had thought it must have been an angel, caringly watching after him. It wasn't until he felt an intoxication of joy, as Hermione's soft, tender hand held his own and spoke the words "Hello, Anakin," that he recognized the voice that had for so long resonated with unbridled passion in his heart.
"Hello, my beloved Hermione," he replied, his voice trembling from the emotion of True Love—that which he had so strongly yearned for yet never imagined would be graced upon him.
Then, as if ordained by Heaven itself, Hermione's love tear dislodged from his forehead and ascended to Heaven, where the always caring Dumbleyoda gently captured it and placed it inside his Treasure Chest—the place where he kept his most priced possessions. Oddly, it was empty, except for 2 beautiful doves which, upon the opening of the chest, gracefully emerged from the heavenly palace that Hermione's generous master had offered them. As the venerable Dumbleyoda closed his treasure box, he lovingly gave a last glance to what—in the form of a tear of love, was to be the remembrance of the most enchanting angel Heaven had ever known.
Chapter 4. Turtledoves of Love
As this transpired in Heaven, the white doves, undulating gallantly across the sky, descended into Earth, softly approaching Anakin and Hermione. Upon meeting them, they soon became aware of a little, tiny, insignificant inconvenience: The two lovebirds were actually too immersed in each other to actually notice them…
It is told in Heaven that True Love can be recognized when two souls are so absorbed together—their hearts resonating in unison, as if fused in one—that the Universe slowly disappears before them, until only 3 elements remain: They and True Love…permeating with its magical spark all that exists. Judging from the scene before us, perhaps this legend—recounted in Heaven since times immemorial—is, actually, true.
Feeling neglected, the celestial doves softly caressed the lover's shoulders with their beaks, and began singing a beautiful melody in their ears: The verse from "Twelve days of Christmas" which recited "On the second day of Christmas my True Love gave to me two turtledoves and…"
To their dovish bewilderment, Anakin and Hermione's love-enthralled spirits—still consumed by the majestic emotion that heralds the arrival of True Love—precluded them from noticing anything beyond each other, unknowingly ignoring their feathered friends until, as they distinctly heard a faint noise reverberating through the night—their senses now attuned to the magic of the environment that paternally manifested before them—finally glimpsed their melodious avian companions and acknowledged their regal presence with a joyous smile.
As our lovers marveled in ecstatic bliss at the grandeur of the music they were being treated to, the now familiar sound—whose all-encompassing echo had awoken them from their love hibernation, now clearly discernable, fully overjoyed them.
"Ho, ho, ho", the merry voice laughed jocundly, as ringing bells became audible and a luminous red light intersected the sky. Stealthily mixing with the profuse white beard of Père Noel, crisp flakes of white snow began to softly populate the heavens,
tracing white lines through the canvas of the starry sky…a heart shaped figure commencing to take shape, momentously emerging—seemingly out of nothing, and inundating the firmament with its imposing glow: A heart a-warming the cold, splendorous Christmas night, magnifying with its captivating opulence the magic of
the instant that passionately transpired back on Earth. A fitting image, if there ever was any.
As Santa's sleigh crisscrossed gracefully through the night, inaugurating before our lover's eyes the most magnificent Christmas Eve ever remembered in the annals of Heaven (Yes! It was Christmas: 28 days had elapsed since our lovers, nurtured by nothing but their love, had locked eyes between each other), the affable Kris Kringle gently dropped his magic reindeer dust on top of the sweet-singing doves, who suddenly ceased their Heaven-inspired chants, smiled and, as if under a Spell of Love conjured by Destiny, turned into turtledoves...
Anakin's heart rejoiced, as he, without the slightest hesitation, recognized the significance of this magical transmutation and, overwhelmed by excitement, extended his arm towards his soul mate, offering the celestial dove to his sweetheart. "I love you," Anakin's trembling voice spoke, his eyes fixating lovingly on Hermione as if Her was everything, and beyond Her there was nothing deserving of his
attention.
"I know", Hermione cockily replied—her innocent smile brightening the sky and merging with the Heart her magnanimous mentor, the ever-so-kind- Dumbleyoda, had painted in the sky to celebrate the consummation of her Love.
Luminescently grinning at the nine flying reindeer that decorated the overhead sky, she accepted Anakin's token of love and reciprocated his gesture by offering her dove to him who, immersed in the purest delight, gently took it and held it close to his heart…while a smile of unrestricted, blissful joy formed across his face…and his hand slid against Hermione's soft-as-snowflakes skin, holding her tight…treasuring
the transcendence of the instant than in his heart would last eternally…and beyond.
Epilogue. Wish upon a Star.
It is said that when a pair of hearts are conjoined as one—such as appears to be the case—the grandness of their Passion is so profound as to transport their love-entranced souls into Cupid's Earthly abode, Niagara Falls, where its gentle breeze lifts their kindred spirits above the tender embrace of the ground and swiftly propels them across the stars and beyond, till they return to Earth in the shape of what is commonly referred to as a Falling Star which, upon being first sighted, fulfills the wishes of those who believe in its magic.
As Anakin and Hermione's lips neared each other, a pair of diffuse sounds—arriving from times past—became audible in the distance, seamlessly coalescing together "I wish to find my…" said a little boy's voice, while the most adorable of angels completed the very same sentence: "…True Love whom I shall treasure eternally."
Then the sound fainted away…but not before Anakin and Hermione had remembered that childhood instant when, upon gazing at a falling star, they had wished for the moment whose arrival they had for so long awaited and were now, years later, finally enjoying…under an imposing Christmas Eve sky lightened by a bright-glowing beacon of red light--emanating from a shiny-nosed, flying reindeer--and punctuated by the tender voice of Fatherly satisfaction coming from the ever-watchful Dumbleyoda—who was none other than God Himself—who proudly intoned the words "Wish fulfilled…"