Fanyasha: Why Do Angels Need People?

She had been taught never to talk to strangers, of course, but she had also been taught to be polite to older people.

“I wonder whose grandfather this is,” thought the girl, sorting in her mind through all of the boys and girls that she knew, but could not remember anyone who could be distinguished by such height, elongated facial features and big blue eyes.

This was because the girl knew for sure that relatives must resemble each other. That was what her mother always told her, showing her black and white photographs of her grandmother and grandfather, noting that they were also redheads and had green eyes.

The eyes of this unfamiliar old man were so clear and transparent that they glowed like two blue mirrors. In them, the girl saw her own tearful reflection and, having remembered her misfortune, uttered:

“I…I lost my doll here.”

“A doll? And what is its name?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t had a chance to give it a name. It was still brand new. It was given to me only yesterday and it was so beautiful and so, so new,” she chattered guiltily and started sobbing yet again.

“And where did you leave it, dearest creature?”

“I don’t remember. Somewhere here, in the yard,” she replied, irritated, spreading her arms.

“How did this happen?” asked the old man in a gentle voice.

“I just got scared of the rain and ran home,” said the girl defensively.

“Is the rain really that scary?”

“It’s not scary, but I…I was worried that my mom would scold me for getting my clothes wet,” she continued, while sniffling, “and I ran home, and now my doll is lost, and I don’t even know what happened to it… Maybe someone took it, maybe it will live in someone else’s house and I will never ever see it again!”

At this point, the girl’s imagination painted a horrible picture in which her obnoxious neighbor with braids played with her doll, fed it and put it down to sleep. The girl could not bear that and started crying again bitterly. She understood how hopelessly and foolishly she had lost her brand new doll, which she didn’t even get a chance to name.

“Allow me to tell you, dearest creature, that I understand very well how difficult this is for you – it is always painful and sad to lose something precious. And today, I want to help you, my dear,” spoke the old man again, and started rummaging through the folds of his raincoat.

Wiping her tears, the girl thought that no speeches, no advice and no gifts would ever replace her doll, yet she observed with interest how this strange and kind old man was searching for something in his endless dark purple raincoat.

“When your heart is full of love, and when you take care of someone, nothing in the world can scare you. Where there is love and care, there is no place for fear. For love is stronger than fear. If you love something or someone, then, despite any obstacles, always remember and cherish that,” the old man continued, and all of a sudden, the girl saw the familiar face of her wonderful beloved doll in his hands.

“This is it! My darling, my dearest!” the girl twittered, nestling the doll close to her. She laughed, stroked the doll’s hair, and kissed its freckled cheeks again and again.

And it did not matter that the doll’s pink dress was wet, or that its small ponytails – the same ponytails that its owner had – were disheveled. What a mercy it was to see her again, safe and sound!

The girl was so happy, so overjoyed by this meeting, that she didn’t notice the disappearance of her doll’s rescuer.

The sleepy ginger cat emerged slowly and lazily from the building entrance to take a walk before retiring for the night. He snorted in discontent when the redheaded girl nearly knocked him off his feet, hopping up the stairs.

“I will name you Alisa! And I will always take care of you!” she said proudly and firmly, tucking the doll in next to her. Then she got under the covers herself and whispered, “I will never ever leave you under the rain, even if there is hail or a snow storm. Nothing will ever scare me again!”

With a blissful smile on her face, the girl fell asleep hugging her Alisa. But of course, she could not imagine that at the same time something wondrous was happening, and that the strange person in the dark purple raincoat was rushing to some new place, carefully pressing a golden parcel against his chest.

Chapter 2:

Love Always Makes Wings Grow

“Very good morning to you, Madame Aros!” said a tall man in a dark purple raincoat with a big smile on his face while giving a golden parcel to a beautiful young woman. “I heartily congratulate you on the birth of your daughter!”

“How wonderful! A daughter! I am so happy! Thank you! Thank you, dear Oshoria,” said the woman quietly, then gently pressed the parcel against her body, peeked inside, and her big brown eyes filled with tears of happiness.

A fresh teardrop fell on the baby’s face, and trickled down her cheek, tickling her. The baby wrinkled her nose, smiled and opened her eyes slightly.

Everything around them was glistening and illuminated with a wonderful radiant light, and in the center of this light shined two mirrors, which reflected the smiling baby girl, wrapped in a golden cloth.

Suddenly, the two mirrors seemingly filled with water, and the girl again felt the drops falling on her face and running down her cheeks. She rubbed her face with her fists, opened her eyes wide and saw an unusually beautiful woman leaning over her.

“Ma-ma-ma,” syllabified the girl and laughed.

“Fanyasha! My dear child! My darling, I…I am so happy… so happy you are here,” whispered her mother and stroked Fanyasha’s soft chestnut brown curls.

There was a rustling sound, and suddenly a beautiful man leaned over Fanyasha’s head. His big brown eyes emanated both strictness and gentleness.

“Great job, my dear! Already started talking! You take after your father! You will be very intelligent!”

Newborn Fanyasha stopped laughing right away, pouted her lips and proudly flung up her nose as if wanting to make an impression of a well-mannered and serious girl. The man stared at her for moment, and then shifted his glance to his delighted wife and triumphantly announced:

“Borisey, please meet your sister Efania!”

Behind him appeared the head of a handsome curly-haired boy. After seeing Fanyasha, the boy’s eyes popped out in amazement, and he hid behind his father’s back again.

“Bosya, why are you so afraid? Look at your beautiful little sister!” said his mother lovingly and picked up Fanyasha.

The golden cloth slipped off the girl and flew away, swirling in the gentle playful wind until it got tangled in a snow-white cloud-chair.

Everything was made out of clouds here, as it should be in a typical house of a typical angel family: above and below and on all sides – clouds were everywhere!

The walls were made out of light grey dense cumulus clouds; the windows of light transparent milky white clouds; the doors, tables, and chairs of thin and hard white clouds; the couches and pillows of soft and fluffy clouds, which gleamed with all the colors of the rainbow because everything around was filled with warm sunlight. Fanyasha was examining her house with unabashed enthusiasm. With a mouth open with delight, she turned her head back and forth making her unruly curls bounce playfully on the lacy collar of her purple dress.

“Oh, oh!” said Bosya, cautiously examining his sister. “She is a girl. What am I going to do with her? We haven’t gone over that yet…”

“Don’t worry, my dear, you will do great,” encouraged his mother. “I remember that you recently had a lesson on the five languages of love, and you aced that topic. The most essential thing that the child needs is love.”

“And not just a child,” noted father while looking at mother playfully, catching her affectionate look and kissing her shoulder.

“But, mom!” Bosya became concerned again. “How will I… how will we… she cannot even fly! Look how small her wings are!”

“Borisey, you couldn’t fly either when you were born, but thanks to me, your mother, your grandmother and your grandfather, you learned very fast,” said father strictly, then patted his son on the back, and pointed up. “Why don’t you bring your love languages notebook, and we will distribute the duties among all of us.”

Despite the fact that Bosya was an angel, he was nonetheless a boy, and, of course, as a boy of about twelve, he was not too excited about this new responsibility in the shape of a small girl in a purple dress who could not fly or speak properly. But Bosya understood that it was useless to argue with his father, and slowly flew to his room.

“We all lived in peace and then – bam! – a sister appears for some reason,” he mumbled, flying up the corridor. “And now what? Does everyone need to drop what they are doing? Maybe I had different plans! Maybe I did not want a sister at this point. What is the good of it anyway? If I had a brother, I would understand that. We would have things to do together: common interests, man talk… Eh,” Bosya sighed helplessly and entered his room.

Of course Bosya heard that children are, perhaps, one of the biggest miracles of the world. Moreover, neither people nor angels could know for certain who would be born and when. Still, it was unclear to him why things were the way they were, and why one could not choose the desired time of birth and the gender of the child. Bosya was sure that order could be established in life this way. And he really loved order.

Bosya was not in a hurry to return, and therefore decided it was the right time to tidy up the table and the bookshelves. He started flying across the room and rearranging books from place to place, pondering how challenging his life would be from now on. After all, in a couple of years his sister would be flying on her own, and poking her nose everywhere.