Fanyasha: Why Do Angels Need People?

But fairy tales were the only thing that distracted her from her sad thoughts.

What can you say, it is evident that a special talent is awakened in all grandmothers – they become such masters of voice and intonation when they tell their fairy tales that you forget about everything else, and fly off to a magical world.

So this is how nights were spent: grandmother’s velvet voice lulled Fanyasha, and in her sleep Fanyasha saw extraordinary stories, wondrous events and unusual objects. She learnt about natural phenomena, flying metal ships, various curious creatures, some of which were called “birds,” – they could fly but could not speak – while others, with the funny name “cats,” could neither speak nor fly but could run on their hands and feet, climb trees and, unlike most other ones, could communicate with angels.

When Fanyasha stayed alone in her room, she diligently trained, ran, jumped, pushed off the walls, and flew higher and higher. One time she could almost touch the door, but realized that she didn’t have enough strength to maintain that height. Then she grabbed the soft wall, drooped and jumped on the windowsill of the only tiny round window in her room.

“Wow! How pretty!” she whispered with delight pressing her face against the glass.

Outside the window, everything sparkled and radiated blue light, and semi-transparent and airy pink clouds rapidly flew by —grandmother weaved curtains and tablecloths out of them. In this azure light, here and there one could see thick accumulations of clouds. “These are probably the houses of other angels,” figured Fanyasha. She once heard that the parents flew to visit neighbors and friends.

The houses resembled huge snow-white magical tree trunks, which reached so high, that it was impossible to discern what was up there, and what kind of tops these trees have. Instead of branches, along the trunks hung rooms with windows like large droplets. On the right, the windows were square, on the left, round. In the lower part of the houses were large round or oval living rooms with large windows.

“Oooh! Oh, how interesting!” thought Fanyasha. “So this is how we all live here.” A little to the right she saw a large house with twelve rooms of different sizes, and below, a large living room sphere with panoramic windows.

“My goodness!” she said in awe. “How many people live there? They probably fly, play and have fun together. It’s not like what we have – mommy and daddy are always at work, Bosya is either at school or in his room studying something all the time, and it’s not even that fun with him, only grandmother knows how to live well.”

But then she noticed another house a little further to the left. Only two rooms hung on its thin trunk – one larger, and the other small, possibly a nursery with one round window at the top.

“Would you believe it, a room like mine,” thought Fanyasha, “with a tiny round window. A little girl like me probably lives there.”

“Only there are only two rooms in her house. That means she lives only with her mother or only with her father, or with her annoying brother. And she doesn’t have a grandmother, and no one kisses the poor baby, no one hugs her, no one praises her and no one tells her stories,” she thought with sadness, sighed deeply and slid down.

In comparison to the life of that unlucky girl, her own life didn’t seem so terrible all of a sudden. She smiled, flapped her wings and whirled in a dance around the room, jumping from the armchair to the bed, from the bed to the dresser.

“How pretty and blessed you are! How this yellow lacy dress suits you! What beautiful eyes! And eyelashes! And braids! And lips! And wings! Lovely!” Fanyasha cooed to her reflection in the mirror, trying to mimic her grandmother’s gentle voice.

From then on, when Fanyasha became sad or bored, she climbed on the windowsill, absorbedly studied the houses of other angels and imagined what their residents were doing.

“Efania, are you up?” asked father one morning, peeking into his daughter’s room.

For some time he was scanning the room wonderingly in search of Fanyasha. To his surprise, the little one was sitting on the windowsill, almost below the door.

“How much you’ve grown! You climbed so high! Aren’t you scared?”

“Not one bit!” Fanyasha replied proudly, sticking her nose up in the air and gracefully tossed her braids behind.

“Since you are so brave, it’s time to show you the house,” with these words her father flew up to his daughter and stretched out his beautiful strong arm.

It’s hard to describe the happiness and glee that filled Fanyasha. Anticipating the long awaited exit out of the room, she was ready to scream as hard as she could, squeal, laugh and cry simultaneously, but decided not to waste time on emotions, and hurriedly jumped off the windowsill and dashed for the door, leaning on her father’s arm.

“What amazing self-restraint and motivation. Bravo, my dear, you take after me,” thought the father and smiled.

“Look, Efania, over there, higher, there is mother’s room right above yours, and across is mine,” told father, and helped his daughter fly up through the wide sun-filled corridor with beautiful oval windows. The higher they rose, the harder it was to fly. Fanyasha felt how tired her wings were. The father caringly took her in his arms.

“And over there, even higher, look, is the room of grandma Nokomis,” he pointed up at the beautiful green door located above the door to mother’s room.

“And what’s over there, even higher? At the very top?” Fanyasha asked with interest when the father started descending. She peered intently up the corridor but could not make out anything except for the movements of the clouds and blurred and scattered purple light somewhere extremely high.

“It’s too early for you to know about this, Efania. Here, let’s look in here and see what your brother is doing.”

They opened the door of the room that was positioned underneath the room of the father. There were notebooks and books of all colors and sizes lying all over the place. Below, next to a large square window, Bosya was sitting at a table and was scrupulously writing something into a white notebook. In front of him lay a large book with a golden cover opened almost at the very beginning, in which magically the words drew themselves carefully and the pages turned themselves. “I wonder what this self-writing book is,” thought Fanyasha.

“Borisey, dear!” called the father, “Take a short break, we are waiting for you in the living room. Fanyasha turns six today, we’ll be congratulating her.”

“But dad, I have exams soon, I don’t have time for celebrating. If I don’t pass the first time, I will have to repeat a year in the Middle School and I really can’t wait to move on to High School,” mumbled Bosya, but did not dare contradict his father. He closed his notebook, then the book, and flew towards the door.

The life of little angels entails staying in a constant state of happiness and love, that’s why for them birthdays are not that important. As for Bosya, he didn’t understand why birthdays were needed. Instead of having fun, he preferred to lock himself in his room and flip through a book or at least to ponder something. Fanyasha, on the other hand, really loved celebrations, gifts and congratulations.

And how wonderful that it was her birthday. That is why father came in the morning and decided to show her the house. What a gift!

“What a wonderful day!” she thought, examining the photos on the walls while descending into the living room down the corridor.

Mother and grandmother were already waiting for them there. Upon seeing the birthday girl, they started clapping and talking over each other, congratulating Fanyasha and kissing her.

“My sweet girl, we have a present for you! Open it!” said the mother tenderly and brought Fanyasha a large caramel-colored box.

“Wow!” shrieked Fanyasha and started laughing when a flock of colorful butterflies flew out of the box and whirled around in circles through the living room. The wings of the butterflies gleamed in the sun and reflected sunrays, and it seemed that the whole room filled with colorful flying twinkles.

Seeing the delight on her granddaughter’s face, the grandmother folded her hands on her chest and also started to laugh. The mother hugged the father, put her head on his shoulder and they both looked at their daughter with enchantment. Even Bosya smiled and preceded to jump and catch butterflies together with his sister, but they briskly dodged their hands and were constantly landing on Bosya’s and Fanyasha’s shoulders, noses or heads, which amused the whole family even more.

“How I wish for her to be a child for a little longer,” said the mother softly. “Childhood is so amazing. Maybe we let her out of the room too early. She is only six. We wanted to wait until she starts school and shield her against the world. There is so much around us that could interfere with her carefree happiness.”

“Not too early at all,” muttered the father. “You should have seen where I found her today! On the windowsill! Yes, imagine that.”

The mother raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“So that means that in the near future she could fly out of the room herself,” said the father very seriously. “Efania is curious and willful; we cannot keep her locked up anymore. It’s time for her to learn more about this world. And by the way, we should remove our photos with the people from the corridor. They hang pretty high, of course, but it’s better to be on the safe side.”

“How fast she is growing,” sighed the mother. “Dear, let’s not let her out till she starts school. I don’t want her to find out about people for as long as possible. Let her live for herself a little bit more.”

Towards the evening, the butterflies calmed down and sat all over the furniture and walls, turning the living into a beautiful colorful garden.

The father, mother, grandmother, Bosya and Fanyasha settled into the large puffy couch and played the cloud game, guessing the color and size of the next cloud that passed by the window. To everyone’s surprise, grandmother was leading by a large margin, as if she herself sent the clouds of the right color and shape.

Later, the whole family discussed how they should make a new couch and how to better enlarge the living room: to widen it on the side of the front door, or by enlarging the windows across the room. That‘s how it was usually done when a child grew up in an angel family – luckily, houses made out of clouds could easily be enlarged and remodeled in any way you please.

“And now it’s time to thank our beautiful butterflies, say good-bye to them, and let them go,” said the grandmother all of a sudden, and started flying towards the window. “We will open the windows and ask the wind to take care of them.”

“But… why? Why do we need to say good-bye? What happened?” Fanyasha was about to burst into tears. “I thought they would sleep, and tomorrow they would fly again, and we’ll play together again. Why? Why do we need to let them go?”

“Efania, dear, please understand, these butterflies won’t fly anymore. The lived a wonderful day and their time has come,” the father explained in a calm voice. “Everything in this world has its time, everything eventually ends, and we need to accept this with gratitude.”

Fanyasha pressed against her mother, trying to hold back tears but they streamed down her cheeks nonetheless.

This was the first time in her life she found out that everything ends, that we need to be able to bid farewell and let go. It was unbearably painful and sad, but at the same time she felt a quiet joy that she was maturing, and that she was finally trusted with secrets of this extraordinary, mysterious world of adults.

Grandmother flung the windows open, whispered something under her nose, stretched her right hand forward, spread her long fingers and traced three circles in the air. At that time, the room filled with a strong cold wind. The curtains flew up and twisted; the wind lifted and whirled thousands of small colorful butterflies, and then led them outside one after another.

Chapter 5:

A Person will be Born Specially for You

From the moment Fanyasha saw the house, she became more joyful and free in her movements. Now she did not need to spend all of her time in her room, she could easily go out into the corridor and then slide down into the living room.

The world became wider for her and gleamed with new colors. How much she enjoyed helping her mother decorate the renovated living room with new lace curtains and colorful throw pillows. How fun it was to watch Bosya and her father puffing and groaning while widening the corridor, which they did by putting their feet against each other and pushing the walls apart with their bodies. Sometimes her parents were delayed at work, and Fanyasha would fall asleep in her father’s large armchair listening to the magical tales of her grandmother.

Fanyasha also loved to stop half way down to the living room and look at the family photos on the walls, while holding onto the bookshelves.

There was her grandmother in her youth with long loose curly hair and a charming smile holding Fanyasha’s mother in her arms. And there was a photo of her father, taken in flight, against the background of their house, looking so slender, handsome and, as always, serious. On one picture, Fanyasha saw little Bosya on the lap of a tall silver haired man in a blue coat with big brown eyes. So this is what grandfather looked like. She wondered when he was going to return. Fanyasha really wanted him to finally see his good and talented granddaughter grow up. Next to that was an incredibly beautiful shot – the scarlet red sky during sunset, with her mother and father sitting on a cloud hugging each other and looking into the distance.

And here was Fanyasha, so small, wrapped in a golden cloth in the arms of her mother, her father next to her, and Bosya peeking behind his father’s back. And next was the picture of happy grandmother in a wide green dress, holding her hands up and catching a laughing Fanyasha. And next to that she was constructing a new pillow out of clouds in her room.

“Wow!” whispered Fanyasha with a glad smile. “I even have my own baby pictures!”

It was funny that Fanyasha decided to consider herself an adult after her sixth birthday, and the experience with the butterflies.

“I wonder who took all those pictures.” She tried to remember if she saw anybody at the time the photographs were taken, but could not.

“I will need to question Bosya,” she decided, and tried to fly higher in order to study the other pictures.

Alas, it was unbearably difficult. She felt that as she rose higher up the corridor, the air became heavier and the wind became stronger, and it was harder to fly. She could barely reach Bosya’s room and sat down next to the door. She didn’t have the strength to fly higher, but it was probably very interesting up there.

She caught her breath and started to peer upwards with interest. She saw doors to her mother’s and father’s rooms, and a little higher up a green door to her grandmother’s room.

“Hey, and who is that over there? Next to mommy and daddy?”

Unfamiliar people stared at her from the pictures that hung on the walls next to

her parents’ rooms. Moreover, mother and father smiled joyfully, standing behind their backs, and even hugged them in some photos! These strangers were half the height of her parents, dressed in strange colorful cloths, and their faces were not beautiful, they had such small eyes and… oh, how horrible, they didn’t have wings on their backs! Why were her parents with them? Who are these beings? What if these strange wingless creatures are people! Bosya mentioned that every angel would need to dedicate its life to a person. But how come? Why are these people the way they are?

Fanyasha became dizzy from excitement; she swayed and grabbed the door handle of her brother’s room in order not to fall.

The door opened. Bosya wasn’t there.

Below, on his table, Fanyasha saw a large golden book, that same one that was writing in itself when Bosya was studying. On the cover, the emerald letters traced:

THE BOOK OF LIFE

PERSON: PHILLIP LOURIE

Dare of birth: 11.27.1970

Date of death: _____________

ANGEL: BORISEY AROS

Date of death? So people die? Like the butterflies? What if angels also die?

Fanyasha squinted, then covered her face with her hands and shook her head. She felt that for her it was enough new information for today. After all, she was just a little ten-year-old girl.

She shut the door, sneaked into her room, sat in from of the mirror, grabbed the hairbrush, loosened her braids and starting brushing her long curly hair. The grandmother said that a woman could calm herself down and get rid of heavy thoughts this way.

***

“Fanyasha, dear,” she heard her mother’s soft voice, and felt her gently stroking Fanyasha’s head. “You fell asleep, darling. Today your brother graduated from the High School of Angels. Let’s go and congratulate him.”

In Bosya’s room, her father and grandmother listened to the details of his day with pleasure. With atypical excitement, Bosya was swinging his arms and loudly bragging about his successes in Human Science and having the best grades in Technology Management!

“Dad, imagine this, Phillip is only eleven years old, but he got first place in the cyclo-cross competition! And one more thing! Today I was the first to receive a diploma! And also, my name is now written on my halo! Here, look! That’s how it is…” suddenly Bosya saw Fanyasha, and abruptly closed the box that was in his hands. Then he quickly flew to the table and closed the golden book.

Fanyasha noticed how everybody scrambled and tried to change the subject, attempting to distract her attention from talking about school.

“Ah, whatever,” sleepy Fanyasha thought to herself. “As if I really need to see this halo, and I already saw the book anyway.

“Just think, he has this person – Phillip,” and her face twisted, expressing how unpleasant all of this was for her. “Nothing special, nothing interesting. And anyway, I don’t want to know anything about these people. And about the fact that they die! Nothing, I don’t want to know anything!”

Offering everybody to move into the living room, mother hugged Bosya, gently ruffled his curly hair, praised him for his successful graduation, and kissed him. “Well, congratulations from me, too,” said Fanyasha, then kissed her brother on the cheek, and was the first to fly out of the room.

The evening passed very merrily. Grandmother invented a new game and made everyone fly in the living room and catch the rays of light. With a ringing laugh, she tirelessly shot them in the different corners of the room. Father was the fastest at catching those that flew fast and far. Fanyasha was very agile and caught the ones that did not have a chance to slip away, while mother and Bosya gathered the ones that hid behind the furniture and in the walls. Father was in the lead, but Fanyasha tried to catch up with him with all her might.

All of a sudden, a tall old man with a long beard, wearing a dark purple coat appeared on the front doorstep.

“Allow me to wish you all a wonderful evening, the Aros family!” he said with a wide kind smile.

“Oshoria! Good evening! Come in, please! We are always glad to see you!” said father and led the guest into the living room. “Today we have a celebration, Borisey graduated from the High School of Angels with honors!”

“I know, I know,” replied the old man and glanced at Bosya approvingly. “I took a couple of great shots during the graduation ceremony. I will drop them off later.”

“That’s who takes the photos,” thought Fanyasha and looked at the silver haired guest with interest.

“Efania, meet our city postman, Oshoria,” said the father.

The postman smiled wide, bowed and solemnly announced, “Actually, I came here for a reason. Today, my dears, you have another celebration!”

Having said this, he took out a silver envelope out of his large coat. On it, in a beautiful handwriting, was written:

For Efania Aros

Fanyasha was surprised. This was the first letter she had ever gotten. The old man took a roll out of the envelope, turned to Fanyasha, looked at her as if he had known her for ages, and solemnly read:

Dear Efania Aros!

Congratulations!

Today a miracle happened on earth – the conception of your person. In nine months, a girl will be born. You will study in the Elementary School of Angels over the course of nine months, and be ready to celebrate the birth of your person. You will dedicate your life to this person, guard her and love her until the end of her days. We wish you luck!

Respectfully, the President of the Board of AngelsRadolir Felch

***

Fanyasha stood transfixed in the middle of the living room; in her head her thoughts swirled with a frightening speed: “What will happen? What will happen now? A person will be born for her? So small, ugly, and without wings! And she would need to dedicate her life to her? Love her? How can that be? Love her for what? Why? Was she not taught to love herself, her life and her loved ones? And now there is some person? How terrible! How is she supposed to live now?”

As if in a daze, Fanyasha saw the silver haired old man, felt her mother and grandmother hugging her, her father saying something about the beginning of a new life, learning about many new and interesting things, and Bosya shaking her hand.

***

When Fanyasha came to on the bed in her room, her mother was looking at her lovingly, and stroked her head. “I hope this was a dream, a horrible dream,” she thought.

Of course Fanyasha wished to grow up sooner, to learn to fly and to discover the hidden wonders of the world around her. But her wonderful plans for the near future did not include going to school, studying, and, in nine months meeting her person to whom – oh goodness! – she would need dedicate her life.

“Fanyasha, darling, you got so nervous that you fainted. Sweetie, everything will be ok! You will like school, there will be girls your age and you will learn a lot of interesting things. Your father and I will always support you, your grandmother will be close by, and Bosya will help with homework.”

With horror, Fanyasha realized that it was not a dream.

“But, mommy!” she begged. “I don’t want to! I don’t want a person! I will never be able to love her! I saw them on photos, they are so ugly, they have small heads, small eyes, and no wings! I saw Bosya’s book and it talked about death! People die, then? What about us? Angels? Do we die too? I am scared, mommy!”

Fanyasha pressed herself against her mother and started crying. The mother scolded herself for forgetting to take off the pictures with people, and for the inability to protect her daughter against unnecessary and untimely information.

“Forgive me, my dear, forgive me,” she whispered, holding back tears. “I truly wanted… I tried so hard… to make your childhood happy… but I failed. Forgive me…”

“Mommy, mommy, please don’t cry, just don’t cry,” Fanyasha was saying through tears. “I am very, very happy, and you succeeded, but let’s stop everything, ok? Let’s ask the postman to give the letter to some other girl. I don’t want to grow up anymore, let it all stop, let everything be like it was before! I want to be little! I want to play and listen to fairy tales! I don’t want to grow up anymore!

“My sweet little funny girl!” replied her mother lovingly, hugging and kissing Fanyasha. “That’s impossible. We are unable to stop time. That is how the world works. One day you must grow up. We, angels, are created so that one day a person would be born for us. This is our destiny, the reason for our existence – to help people. Your person will be born especially for you, she won’t be able to live without you, do you understand?”

“Mommy, but how? How will I help a person? What if I don’t like her?” Fanyasha asked excitedly.

“That’s not possible,” her mother smiled. “You’ll see, you will definitely like your person. She will be just as you make her to be. And you will love her for sure; there is no way around it! For you, your person will be the very best and the most beautiful in the world!”

Her mother’s quiet gentle voice, her words and tender embrace, helped Fanyasha to calm down and fall asleep. She imagined drawing the very best and most beautiful person for herself.