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The Angel of Berlin

Released 23 May 2011 by Flying With Red Haircrow

The Angel of Berlin

 

 

Available at Smashwords, Amazon Kindle Store, All Romance Ebooks and other online distributors.

Published: May 23, 2011
ISBN # 9781452441665   

Description: "When young Robin, a university student, saves the life of a beautiful youth, he finds he's made a devoted friend. But without memory or voice, the newly named Angel is a mystery. Occasionally exasperating with his child-like qualities, he still has touches of darkness that make Robin wonder what kind of being he's really taken in.

A speculative fantasy of magical realism and innocent love set in modern Berlin."

 Cover art by Red Haircrow.

 

• From Top2Bottom Reviews: "There is no doubt Red Haircrow has a gift for descriptive prose; the vivid imagery the author presents through the selection of language sketches a picture for the reader that is rich in feeling and atmosphere. It is, in its way, quite poetic, and in the case of The Angel of Berlin lends to the dream-like quality of this lovely fantasy."

• From Bibrary Book Lust: "A contemporary fairytale. It's beautiful and magical, with subtle touches of the supernatural. If you're willing to sit back and immerse yourself in the dream, I promise you'll wake delighted and refreshed, with a smile on your face."

• From Brief Encounters Reviews: "If you are looking for a story set in a foreign city, with a very lyrical quality to the prose and lush descriptions, this is a good choice."

• The Romance Reviews: "...was written so beautifully that it felt as if I've never read anything even remotely similar to it..."

 

EXCERPT:

 

Chapter 1

 

 

The youth walked along as if everything in the world was new to his eyes.  Long blonde hair the color of old gold under candlelight blew in a light breeze.  Clear blue eyes like a winter's crisp afternoon sky fluttered from point to point in wonder, taking in each shutter-click of the scene. 

In a faded t-shirt and jeans, tattered sandals seasonally inappropriate on long feet, with child-like naiveté, yet profound self-possession, he looked about himself.  To his left, a trio of teen-agers casually tossed a Frisbee between themselves quick to jokes and laughter.  To his right, a couple still entranced with each other relaxed back on a blanket as their children tumbled about them at play.  So many others were enjoying the fineness of the clear autumn afternoon. 

The laughter of the children delighted him.  He smiled.  The animated discussion between bicyclers enjoying a moment to stroll intrigued him.  He stopped to watch them as they passed.  In the fading light between buildings, the flashing whirl of bicycle wheel spokes made him gasp with wonder as a vendor behind steamed glass jubilantly called out his slogan as eager patrons decided on which would be best, a hot chocolate or glühwein. 

 At a nearby corner, a young man waited for the traffic light to change, the fingers of one hand tapping his bike's handlebar before reaching to adjust his backpack to a better position.  He released a visible sigh. 

The blonde youth liked the way the young man looked.  He had a narrow face with spectacles perched upon an equally narrow nose, was clean-shaven except for a little tuff of hair on his very pointed chin.  The soft brown hair was neatly cut quite low, and though clearly he was impatient for the signal to change in his favor, the fine lips looked like he could smile at any time. 

Traffic was nearing rush hour.  The headlights of the cars, if the youth turned his head just so, looked like comets flashing through space.  He felt slightly light-headed moving his head slowly, rhythmically back and forth.  Dizzily looking up at the tall buildings surrounding the park and square, he seemed unaware his feet still moved. As if mesmerized by the shift and flow of elements, he stepped off the curb. 

Horns sounded suddenly, tires screeching on pavement.  He was startled as a strong hand gripped his arm, pulling him back to the safety of the sidewalk.  As he regained his balanced, he looked down into the face of the earnest young man. 

"What were you doing? You might have been killed!" A head was shaken at him.  The youth didn’t understand the words as yet, nor the urgency.  "You should be more careful." 

Smiling, the youth continued to look unmoved by the accident that might have occurred, yet gave the shorter man his full attention. 

"You don’t get it, do you? Perhaps you speak German instead."  The man switched to that language from his native French that, since startled, he had used first without thinking. 

Pointing downward, he pronounced as if to a child, "Stay on the sidewalk unless the signal for walkers is showing."  When he looked up, it had just turned so.  "Well, take care!" He called back over his shoulder as he pedalled away. 

With an overwhelming urge to follow, the youth noticed a similar means of transportation leaning against a light-pole, its rider having abandoned it only seconds before to hurry to the vendor's kiosk.  The youth found he knew how to ride without thinking. He sped off after the narrow-faced young man. 

 

* * * *

 

Robin, the young man, still shook his head over the youth he'd encountered though his legs pumped furiously trying for greater speed from his third-hand ancient bicycle.  He'd been late to work already once this week.  His employer was not an understanding man, caring nothing for the heavy load of schoolwork Robin struggled with, this being his first year in a foreign country, his first year at university.  Robin was lucky to have the job at all. He certainly could not afford to lose it. 

As he pulled up to the popular little café, red-cheeked and winded, a co-worker was stepping out to change the menu on the chalkboard to the left of the door.  Previously they'd only exchanged passing pleasantries for the young hostess was polite but distant, yet this time, half-jokingly, she scolded him for his tardiness.  Still, he shrugged with good grace, hurrying to secure his belongings to the bike rack. Another person rode up beside him as he turned. 

"What are you doing here?" he exclaimed in surprise, nearly bumping into the youth he'd saved from possible injury or death at the square corner.  "You followed me, but why?" 

Long lashed eyes blinked innocently at him as if the youth didn't know.  The fine lips parted to say something, but then closed in consternation.  Next, they curved up into a smile, eyes brightening as the slight frown disappearing as if it had never been. 

Making a certain assumption, Robin laughed lightly, shaking his head.  "Sorry, but I haven't the time now. I'm late for work."  He turned to go into the shop.  The youth didn't move, and only stood expectantly watching him so that Robin felt the need to go explain further.  "I’ll be here a few hours at least. Don't you have somewhere to go?" 

The handsome face saddened.  The youth looked about himself disconsolately, biting his lower lip. 

Robin yelled a clipped affirmative as the young woman called again from inside, then turned back to consider their situation.  "Look, I've got to go. Really."  Thinking furiously, Robin found he didn't want the youth to go away no matter how short or long the time. 

"Just come, come inside the door. If you don't mind very much, you can wait for me at the backstairs until I’m finished, alright?" 

With him now standing on the bistro steps and the youth on the pavement, the two were about the same height.  Robin looked into bottomless blue eyes full of trust and quiet joy.  They took his breath away.  He felt himself pulled forward as if drawn.  Despite the noisy commotion coming from the dining area through the cracked door, Robin whispered softly, "Come, I'll show you."  Robin took the willing hand in his own, leading the youth inside. 

 

* * * *

 

The shift manager allowed Robin's new friend to stay as long as that "guest" kept in the background, out of the way.  At his first and only break, dropping down tiredly a step below the youth on the back stairway still lit faintly with the light from the landing window behind them, Robin finally had a chance to get to know him better.  Setting two bottled beers to the side, he stretched rackingly, emitting a huge yawn. 

"Ah, that's better," he sighed.  "It's truly a madhouse in there tonight."  Muffled conversation and music floated up from the floor below.  He opened one bottle then the next, handing one over to the youth.  "On me!" he pronounced, "go ahead." 

The youth only looked at dark glass perplexedly, running a finger down its sweating side, rubbing the moisture between fingertips. 

Robin smiled, taking a long draught of his own.  "You drink it. It’s beer!" 

The youth sipped cautiously, widened eyes, gave a cough then blinked.  He quickly looked at Robin, who'd burst into laughter. 

"You're too funny.  What's your name, after all this time?  I'm Robin, by the way."  He waited, watching as the other young man took a longer taste.  "What, can't you speak?" 

A small frown before a glance downward then back up caused Robin to sober empathetically.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize,"  he said, touching the youth's shoulder briefly, yet his naturally cheerful nature took over again.  "But I have to call you something!" 

Robin leaned back against the cool plaster of the wall, thoughtfully rolling a mouthful of pilsner around his mouth before swallowing. 

"With the light behind you just so, shining in your hair...you rather look like an angel fallen to earth," his pleasant tenor making the statement poetry in the lull from the sounds from below.  "Truly, like an angel.  That's what I'll call you I think: 'Angel.'" 

Angel leaned down to him, touched his hair then grinned like a little boy.  Soft touches lingered over Robin's eyebrows, the curve of his cheek, nails explored the little goatee he proudly groomed each morning.  Robin closed his eyes savoring the gentleness thought his heart sped fiercely up to a frenzied pace. 

"Robin, are you up there? Robin!" called a voice from below, heavy but female.  He quieted his annoyance before answering Sabine the shift manager's query.  The owner might yet come by this evening, he was told, and they'd not even begun preparations for the special desserts for tomorrow!  Quickly, she said, up to the storage room to retrieve the pans needed! 

"Want to come with me?  We can look off the rooftop also.  It's one of my favorite places to go.  Oh, and don't forget your beer.  We can finish up there." 

Robin quickly located the pans in the storeroom, setting them on the landing before unlocking the door to the roof.  "Come on, Angel, it's like a different world!" 

Angel followed him up the narrow stairs, which opened out onto a flat rooftop bordered by a red brick parapet.  From here, one could just see the tops of the trees half clothed in browning foliage, the tall buildings at the city's center far off to the west.  The sun had already dipped below the horizon, but the sky was still awash in soft crimson, apricot and deepening azure.  A wind had risen, cool and touched with frost. 

"Nice, isn't it?" Robin said, though verbally, he knew Angel wouldn't reply.  "I love to come up here.  It's so peaceful.  Everything seems so far away."  He looked back to the east for a moment, where the first stars were beginning to appear on an indigo field. 

"Are you cold?  You're not really dressed for the night at all."  He shivered himself though wearing his usual layers in muted tones: undershirt, shirt, then pullover and wide whaled corduroys.  Winter was truly coming soon.  These were the last fine days of fall before the rains came, the gray days and long nights, the dirty snow and ice of a northern city's streets. 

"Angel?" he queried.  The youth had wandered near the edge to look down to the street of the building's front, his hair lifting like wings back over his shoulders. 

"Angel!" Robin called more sharply, moving, remembering the street incident from the afternoon.  "Don’t get too close to the edge!"  As he neared, Robin continued more moderately, "You can you lose your balance easily, you know."  He tried to draw Angel away, hand on his bare arm.  "I have to go back down now, and it’s getting cold anyway.  They’ll yell even more." 

Angel lingered despite Robin’s urging face now turned up at the sky, eyes wide, lips parted.  Angel gave a soft breath of sigh before finally allowing himself to be drawn away. 

"You scared me back there," Robin laughed, as they clattered down the stairs. "Again!" 

 

* * * *

 

The owner didn't show up after all, so the previously necessary cakes were unceremoniously moved to the walk-in cooler for tomorrow's opening.  After washing up the last of the dishes and mopping the floor, Robin was allowed to leave.  Be on time tomorrow, reddened his ears as they left, but he winked at Angel, closing the door behind them.

Unlocking his bicycle from the rack, Robin said, "Two things. I don't suppose you have any place to go now either, do you?  And that bike you rode earlier wasn't yours, was it?" 

Angel looked to the side, raised eyebrows, gave a playful toss of his head. 

"Where do you come from?" Robin asked in mock severity, yet the youth's face fell as if he didn't understand the humor behind his words.  "No, no, it's ok. I was joking! I do know where you can go." 

Angel looked interested then.  "With me, of course. I've just a little place, just a room I rent, but you're welcome." 

 

 

Chapter  2

 

It was a reasonably spacious room with a high ceiling, boasting two sets of large, windows showing at this time of night row upon row of windows on the opposite side of the street.  Some were bright with light while others flickered dim and blue, but most were dark as empty eyes. 

The room was like its renter: mostly neat, clean and perfectly ordinary, yet with noticeable colorful touches.  Near the window on the left side, behind a painted screen, a covered mattress filled a corner of the floor, a few odd pillows decorating the top.  In front of the partition was a makeshift couch of sorts; crates stacked together, a low table on which books overflowed to the wooden floor.  On the right wall was a desk with a battered chair tied with ribbons.  Sprouting from the wall above it, like blossoms from twining vines were a number of paper lanterns, the kind one might find in an Asian garden.  Angel liked those especially, reaching out to touch them curious hands. 

"It's not much I know," Robin said, hanging his pullover on a coat-rack in the nearest corner, "but it's home."  He smiled somewhat shyly, yet proud also, "I like it very much. It's the first place I've ever had on my own." 

Kicking his shoes off to the side, he directed Angel where he could place his own.  Robin explained that he rented from a person he'd found in a local newspaper, as he straightened up the clothes lying over a chair and the papers scattered across the floor.  It had been an older gentleman searching for a quiet tenant.  The landlord was seldom home, usually quiet himself, allowed usage of the kitchen as he needed, and to have friends over as well. It was a perfect arrangement. 

Since they'd shared a meal of leftovers at the bistro before leaving, and Robin had had a long day, he suggested they simply retire for the evening, excusing himself to use the bathroom across the hall.  When he returned Angel was standing in the same place. Robin scratched his head, apologizing. 

"If you want to come this way, I'll show you," he directed Angel through the doorway into the short hall that led to the facilities.  As he'd almost come to expect from his new friend, Angel immediately fell to trying and testing each of the new things presented.  Off, on, off went the water.  Fingers probed the electrical socket before being snatched away with a warning. 

"The toilet...you know how it's used...or do you?" Robin began.  "Hmm," he pronounced, "well, I'll leave you to it. Press the button here when you are done. Come back to my room when you're finished." 

Dutifully, Angel reappeared after some minutes.  Robin had laid him out a place for sleeping on the near side of the screen, pushing the crates behind the door to allow room.  All of Robin's extra blankets and pillows had been neatly arranged into a pallet.  Dimming the lights to just one small lamp sitting on the floor in a corner, Robin then removed his outer clothes down to his smalls, gesturing for Angel to do the same. 

"You can lay them over the chair, just there."  Angel seemed to think, and then removed his jeans, folding them carefully.  "I put you closer to the door because it's warmest.  I'm near the window where the cold seeps in, but I like to look up at the night sky." 

Still with the faded t-shirt on, blinking sleepily, Angel stood in what must be old style cotton leggings, reluctantly looking towards his makeshift place.  Robin was rearranging his own few pillows to his satisfaction on his usual mattress, shaking out one thin blanket. 

"It's alright, you can lay down," said Robin, looking back.  Angel took one step towards his pallet, but stopped, shoulders lowering.  Licking his lips, he looked as if he might finally say something, emitted a breath of frustration at his own inability, and then gave a single sob. 

"What's the matter?" Robin was instantly attentive.  Angel took a step towards him slowly, then another, paused as if in inquiry, fingers working just away from his thighs. 

"Ah," Robin said, understanding, with both chagrin and guilty pleasure.  "You want to sleep with me?" 

Angel's tension disappeared, his whole body radiated need as he positively trembled with anticipation.  Robin rolled up to disassemble the pallet, dragging the comforters back to his mattress.  It was acceptance, yet he wasn't quite sure to what he had agreed.  Somehow, he could not believe Angel wished sex with him, though it had crossed his own mind as they returned to his room.  Attractive as Angel was, Robin could not imagine him feeling carnal desire. 

Angel helped him spread out the blankets, crawling with him beneath them, moving swiftly to embrace Robin with a happy squeeze.  After laying his head next to Robin's, the youth made no other move.  He only sighed contently like a child, his breath slowing, and then slipped quickly into slumber. 

Robin gave a single sniff of amazement.  No, he revised his first thought, he should not have been surprised by Angel's innocent response.  Settling more comfortably, his arousal soon faded to his great relief though Angel's sweet breath played in his hair, and the heat of the lean body warmed him in a way he'd never experienced, even when in a lover's arms.  He felt no uncontrollable craving for congress, but only a tremendous sense of contentment. Soon, Robin also was fast asleep. 

 

Chapter 3

 

"What am I to do with you?" Robin asked mostly to himself, struggling to pull one of his few extra pairs of socks onto Angel's feet, who wasn't exactly helping or actively resisting.  "Can't take you to class with me, that's for sure." 

Angel did know how to pull on his sandals, which didn't require fastening since their faded leather was worn and out of shape.  He stood clothed in one of Robin's largest pullovers, yet still the cuffs ended well above his wrists.  He looked fresh and neat for Robin had brushed his hair and teeth for him simply for expedience sake.  Squeezing long streams of toothpaste from its tube had intrigued Angel, slowing the morning process considerably. 

Robin had few acquaintances in the city, especially no one who could baby-sit what looked to be at least a twenty-something attractive male without attempting to explore his sense of proper decorum or his origins. 

He cursed softly.  Maybe they would let him leave Angel at work?  He would have to come by after class in any case, for he was scheduled this evening.  He could retrieve Angel then. 

"Come on, then.  Let's give it a try," he decided, gathering up his rucksack, taking Angel by the hand. 

 

* * * *

 

Robin knew he was going to be late for class but Angel looked so pleased at the response from the pigeons.  They were used to taking grain from the regulars in the park and eagerly flocked around his socked and sandaled feet, yet as he reached to stroke them, in a wave they would take flight then settle a few meters away to avoid his empty hands.  Angel kept trying, laughing all the while.  The sound of Angel's voice, unheard before, made Robin's heart contract with joy watching the humorous scene, but soon enough they made their way to the bistro. 

"He's simply enchanting," Robin promised the ladies, "but rather like a small child.  You don't have to watch him every minute, but just the same, he needs supervision. 

Marta, one of the bakers who was a middle-aged ample woman, looked askance as him, her plump, strong hands, kneading dough.  "Since when have you become so responsible, young man?  Anyway, who is this boy?" 

Robin looked perplexed.  "Truth be told, I'm not sure.  I think he's lost, and doesn't remember where he came from or how to get back.  He can't speak either."  

"Poor lad," Marta said, "but he seems happy enough.  You should go to the police or make a flyer and perhaps someone will claim him." 

"Yes," Robin said.  Yet, he felt reluctant to do so.  That someone might come forward to claim Angel and take him away left a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "Well, in any case, I'm off.  I'll be back around sixteen hour!" 

He gave Angel a short lesson.  Please stay here until he got back.  Please do what the ladies asked him to do.  Please do not get hurt.  Angel's fine brows had creased in worry.  He looked like a five-year old left his first day at kindergarten.  Robin had hugged him; assured him everything would be all right, that he would be back as soon as classes were finished for the day. 

Looking back once, twice, and then again before pedalling away faster, Robin told himself that Angel would be fine.  Scarcely five minutes passed before he already missed the pleasant presence of his "foundling". 

  

* * * *

 

Huge mounds of pale dough were lifted out onto a long wooden table.  Pulling and stretching it, adding drops of color here or there, nuts, sweetmeats, chocolate and fruits, the women chopped and measured, kneaded and rolled the ingredients together into fanciful shapes ready for the oven.  Angel was allowed to taste as he pleased, sometimes wrinkling his nose at the tangy tartness of sourdough or rye, or eagerly gestured for more of the raspberry filling for the petit four cakes.  Like a favorite child, he was indulged. 

When Angel grew drowsy from the heat of the kitchen, full as could be, he was sat on a little stool behind the women in one corner.  Marta continued talking to him just as she would her own youngest daughter who was six years old, explaining as she went.  He soon fell asleep to the hum of the ovens and the comfortable clack and clatter of utensils, head upon one shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso. 

 

* * * *

 

Raised voices, threats, shaken fists, exasperation, as usual, the owner arrived at the bistro with chaos on his brow.  Of less than average height and more than average weight, with a receding hairline and slightly protuberant blue eyes, whatever Uwe Stubbe lacked in finesse he amply made up in sheer force of character.  He and Sabine, the manager, were engaged in a fierce argument over operations. 

The other kitchen workers had grown wisely quiet, as the manager reached the breaking point.  Throwing up her hands, turning her back to the owner, she resigned her position then angrily stomped out.  Rudely awakened, Angel sat looking distressed, eyes wide and fearful, instinctual knowledge to remain as still and silent as possible. 

Unfortunately, at that moment, Robin entered the room, late again and immediately spotted. 

"And you, how many times has this been?  Should I pay workers who are not here when they're suppose to be?" yelled Herr Stubbe, stalking up to the sweating Robin, who stammered an explanation.  The forceful statements by his boss, who had warmed to his topic, overrode his words. 

"I should throw you out.  I don't need workers like you either.  Oh, workers I said! I think I should say shirkers instead!  Get out!  Get out of here, I never should have hired you in the first place!" 

Robin first entreated the man fervently, gesturing Angel back to his place for the youth had risen with pale brows puckered together in alarm, chest heaving.  Yet, when the man began to disparage him as lazy along with all the rest of his countryman, Robin's own temper engaged.  In a show of pride, Robin stood eye-to-eye with the owner, grating out, "How dare you!"

Amid the tumult, without prelude, Angel began to cry.  Simply covering his face with long-fingered hands, he wept heartbreakingly, great sobbing cries, totally forlorn.  Robin looked around to him, mouth falling open in surprise.  Completely perplexed, the owner looked also, very round head perched at an unusual angle on his short neck.  Herr Stubbe stared at the weeping youth over the top of glasses that had slipped down to the tip of his nose.  

Drawing Angel into his arms, Robin soothed him with non-words, stroking his back and hair attempting to steer him out of the door and collect his fallen rucksack at the same time.  The owner’s intent gaze followed Angel as if mesmerized, as if he had never seen him before though Angel had been in the kitchen since his arrival at noon. 

                "Who is he?" Herr Stubbe said faintly, on a breath, looking Angel up and down where the two young men had stopped in the doorway.  No one answered.  The owner frowned, licked his lips before his florid face blanched.  "What is he?" 

"He's my friend," Robin finally replied, "I care for him."  His narrow face was closed and troubled, curving lips pressed down into a thin line.  "I don't know what we'll do now." 

A bemused look on his face, Herr Stubbe turned back to the corridor that led to his office staring off into space, saying nothing.  He finally looked back again at Angel, whose sobs had quieted with Robin's tenderness. 

"Be here tomorrow before the booked party arrives," said the owner.  The man now seemed afraid to raise his eyes.  He shook his large head suddenly, as if awakening from a trance.  "Well. Well, just be here tomorrow."

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

BACK TO MAIN PAGE, The Journey of Red Haircrow

Red Haircrow's website, Songs of the Universal Vagabond

 

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