Color of Angels' Souls
Read Color of Angels' Souls Online
Authors: Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian
A Novel
Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian
THE DIFFERENT COLORS OF MIST
Positive emotions of the living
Crystal blue for loyalty
White for satisfaction, a feeling of accomplishment
Silvery gray for compassion, empathy
Light blue for elation
Turquoise for healthy desire
Dark blue for love
Light purple for happiness
Dark purple for positive excitement
Gold for victory, complete fulfillment
Negative emotions of the living
Green for jealousy
Yellow for envy
Light pink for irritation, the first signs of anger
or for unhealthy desire
Dark pink for unhealthy excitement
Light red for anger
Dark red for unhealthy anger
Orange for revenge, vengeance
Light brown for sadness, slightly guilty feelings
Dark brown for extreme fright or intense sadness
Black for murder or perverse desires
The Taste of Death
Jeremy was dead.
His head had been cut off by a samurai.
In downtown Manhattan, in the twenty-first century.
In a state of shock, his mind reeling, Jeremy stared down at the bodyâhis body. He was anything but a coward, but he had never been so terrified in all his life. A deep, dark fear gripped him, a primordial sense of dread.
Then he was startled by a man's cheery voice: “Well hello there, Angel!” it called out behind him. “Welcome to the land of the dead!”
What had happened was finally sinking in. He ignored the stranger. In a complete daze, he looked down at his lifeless body. A small stream of blood was lazily making its way down the sidewalk and coagulating in a puddle, like a big tub of cranberry ice cream. Strangely enough, it made him hungry for a second, but the sensation soon subsided without completely going away.
He tried to remember what had happened.
He had been interviewed earlier that evening by one of the major television networks and afterward, he had been strolling along, slowly making his way back to his apartment. Jeremy was twenty-three years old, a young financial wizard who had come over to New York from his home country, France. He had finished high school at the age of fourteen, immediately gone on to college, and when he was only eighteen, had published his first thesis paper. It explained a new equation he had developed for adapting investments to market fluctuations. Even his enemies had to admit that he was a rising star in the field, and his name was often in the headlines. The specialists often praised his astonishing intuition, and were already calling him “the next Warren Buffett.”
Jeremy lived not far from the Pierre, a legendary hotel across from Central Park. The entrance to his building was right next door, and he felt safe coming home late at night due to the constant comings and goings at the hotel. But on this particular night, the sidewalk along Fifth Avenue where he was walking was deserted and dark. Strangely enough, it looked as if many of the streetlights along the avenue had been broken. It was close to midnight, but instead of playing it safe and walking on the residential side of the street, Jeremy had been strolling along the edge of the enormous park, relishing the fresh, clean fragrances of the tall trees. He was almost across from his building when â¦
A girl. There had been a girl. A pretty blonde. Scared to death.
She had walked up to him, but it was hard to make her out in the dark. There was a small white rectangle in her hand. That was when he felt a heavy blow to his neck and intense pain. His head fell to the pavementâbefore his body.
He had been blinded almost immediately, but still had the time to make out the blade of a long sword flashing by. Jeremy had seen the girl streak past too. She had screamed. The murderer had rushed towardher, but had tripped over Jeremy's head in the dark and sent it flying into the gutter, giving his prey just enough time to flee.
And then he was
really
dead. He had gone over to
the other side
, at a loss to understand what was going on, and could only watch in shock what happened next. A police car had turned into the street just then, and the murderer had muttered an oath under his breath and melted away into the shadows of the park, like a poorly drawn sketch that you quickly erase. Jeremy had only had time to make out the long kimono the man had been wearing over an elegant black suit. Then he pulled off the kimono and sped away in the night. Jeremy had also gotten a glimpse of the man's face: He was of mixed race, but looked vaguely Asian. His black mustache drooped down over the corners of his mouth and his eyes were burning with hate. For some strange reason he had made Jeremy think of Genghis Khan. He had the same chiseled features as the Mongols who overran about half the civilized world back in the thirteenth century.
Now Jeremy was petrified, incapable of thinking or moving, incapable of using his brain at all. He looked around him. The street now seemed incredibly bright. It was as if a weird aura was glowing around everything. The light made him winceâit was much too intense, as were all the noises around him. It was as if the eyes and ears of the soul, once freed from flesh, could perceive things much more intensely.
He was still terrified when he turned to face the ⦠what was it he was facing, anyway?
Another Angel?
“Mmmppfmmgmgggllmm,” he muttered, as a bunch of inarticulate sounds escaped from his lips.
“Ah,” the man chirped, as a horrified Jeremy quickly clamped his mouth shut. “Take it easy now. You don't have any air in your lungs. Just give them some time to learn how to breathe again. You have to form the words in your mouth, without trying to say them out loud. You'll see, they'll come out all by themselves. It's easy once you get the hang of it.”
Eyes wide, Jeremy did as he was told. But it was difficult at first.
“Wass, what's going on?”
The guy was wrongâthere was nothing easy about it!
“Well, I've got some good news and some bad news,” the stranger quipped.
Jeremy could only stare at him, impervious to any attempts at humor.
“Oh. I can see you're still a bit overwhelmed by it all. To make a long story short then, I was just passing by when I noticed that you were about to get your head sliced off. So I decided to wait. That's a pretty traumatic way to die, so I figured someone would need to explain to you what had happened. Looks like my hunch was rightâthe guy did knock you off. Quite an original way to go, actually. I hadn't seen anything like that for quite some time. So I will now proclaim that you are officially deceased.”
“And whuh ⦠what's the good news?” Jeremy finally managed to spit out.
“That
was
the good news. The bad news is that you're not the only one.”
He made a gesture at the crowd of people all around them, and Jeremy suddenly realized that there were thousands of peopleâghosts, Angels, whatever you wanted to call themâin the street, walking, laughing, crying, running, jumping ⦠even flying through the air. It was complete chaos.
The strangest thing about the people was all their different colors. Some were cloaked in a beautiful, dark purple color, much like the color of the summer sky at dusk. Others were a bright red, so intense that it hurt his eyes. In between he could make out all different shades of blues, and also reds that ranged from the lightest pink emanating from the living to a fiery reddish-orange. The man talking to him was blue. Curious now, Jeremy looked down at his own skin. Ah, it was a light blue, with a few hints of pink and a little bit of orange.
Jeremy looked up again. The world had changed as well. When he looked at the sky, up above the buildings filled with sleeping people, he could see strange vapors rising into the night. There were white mists, and mists tinged with all different colors, and he could also see silhouettes flittering about in their midst, as if they were warming themselves in the vapors, excitedly performing some intricate dance.
The whole scene seemed to be shimmering before his eyes, pulsating like a giant, slowly beating heart. He was struck once again by how incredibly clear everything looked. Even though it was nighttime, he could clearly distinguish all the buildings on Broadway down to the last little detailâeven the ones a few miles down were as clear as if they were right in front of him!
Suddenly realizing that his jaw had dropped, he quickly closed his mouth.
“Oh yes,” the man sniggered, “I know how surprising it all is. Now, let's go over a few basic rules, shall we? Do you have any idea how many human beings have died since our species has existed?”
Still not trusting his voice, Jeremy just shook his head.
“Approximately eighty billion, if we include our cousinsâthe Neanderthals and their lot. That's a lot of people. But there aren't nearly that many of us. I would estimate that there are about as many of us as there are human beings currently living on Earth. A mere six and a half billion. As for me, I passed over in 451 A.D.”
“Passed over?”
“Exactly. That's how we refer to our arrival here. We
pass over
. And when we introduce ourselves to someone, we say: âHello, my name is Decarus Pompei, but you can call me Flint. I passed over in 451 A.D.' It helps us to keep track of everybody. So, how about you?”
“Name's Jeremy. I passed over ⦠uh, just now.”
Flint gave him a warm smile and held out his hand.
Without thinking, Jeremy grasped hold of it. The hand that squeezed his own felt just like a living one. He could even feel the bones beneath his fingers. He instantly clutched hold of Flint's hand as if his
life
depended on it.
“Easy now,” Flint said. “Feeling a bit low? Don't worry, everything will be fine.”
Tears started to stream down Jeremy's cheeks and his knees grew weak. He began to slump over on the ground, still clinging to Flint's hand. Flint had no choice but to crouch down next to him. He waited patiently for a moment, letting the fear wash over Jeremy as he tried to help the young man calm down.
“Um, do you think I could have my hand back now?” he finally asked.
But Jeremy had been seized by more than just simple fear. A crushing, all-encompassing wave of terror had grabbed hold of him, and he felt as if Flint's hand was the only real thing he could clutch on to. There was no way he could even imagine letting go of it.
“Why?” he stammered. “Why? I'm too young. It's not fair. I'm too young to die!”
“You
were
young. And what's more you'll remain young for all eternity. When you see the sorry state that most of the dead are in, you'll consider yourself lucky to have passed over at such an early age, believe me!”
When Jeremy tried to wipe off his face he suddenly realized that he was holding someone's hand. He finally released it, to Flint's great relief.
“I ⦠I'm crying?” Jeremy finally gasped.
