I know I won't get any reviews on this, but it was so incredibly inspiring I couldn't help myself. I didn't approve of the ending and wanted to make it right.
Alice Hoffman writes Green Angel, and I encourage you to read it.

Green Angel

I am Green, still I am green. Ash has not come back to haunt me, I doubt she ever will. Almost a year has passed, and soon I'll be seventeen. The dreary thoughts of my previous wish for sixteen still trudge through my mind, almost hollowly. I can remember so clearly how I was prideful and shy, so ready to take control of my life. I suppose I did take control of my life, but not in the way I wanted.

I can feel a great deal of remorse in my veins, as clearly as I can now see and feel the river. The embers that once resided in my eyes, partially blinding me, have been cleared away, I allow myself to cry even till this day.

The city beyond my humble home is almost fully rebuilt, and all my tattoos have turned fully green. The blackbirds no longer scare me, but my past will never leave. It's always there, shadowing above me, just as clearly as these vines crawl up my pale legs and arms. My skin tone is no darker than ivory, and my hair has seemed to just blacken. I suppose I'm growing more into my mother as well.

I often visit my pile of stones; they are like a grave, memorial. Black for my mother, silver for my father, and white as the moon for my sister. I will always miss them. I miss Ghost as well, though sometimes when I'm walking through the words for whatever reason or another I can feel him, his freedom, almost as if it were my own. And that is enough, for greyhounds must run free. And my dear sparrows, I can feel them too; they've grown much older I know. My hawk as well. I know it when he soars so high, can feel the intensity of whatever hunt he's participating in. He has probably stayed the closest to me, I can see him flying overhead, and still I don't call him to me, don't bade him to perch on my shoulder. Just knowing he's there, something so real as to see him is more than enough. For me, if a shadow is all I have, I can know that it is at least something. Any fragment or shard I will proudly take into my heart.

Onion is still with me, I suppose he is actually the one who's stayed nearest to me. He is simply Onion, plain and true. He scampers about the house, tongue partially dangling from his mouth. He has so much energy, even as he grows into old age. He still mourns for his master, Aurora, as do I. But together, we always seem to make it through the nights when sleep won't come, and the moon doesn't shine down through the mist in her smile. I truly believe the moon has taken her in. It saw her beauty, one so much as itself and automatically, its heart grew soft. Like mine, it's been opening still. Hasn't finished. The red is such a deep crimson, framed by the green of my soul. Ash still exists though, in memory and heart. She too is a piece of me, she could never fade entirely. I am happy with it that way. Though I am Green, she, everything that's happened, is still a huge part in who I am, my fate. The path chosen for me, not written by my own hands; but tread upon with my feet. I still have the boats and leather jacket, safely nested away. They sit in plain view though. I am not ashamed of who I was, or what I did. I am Green, I was Ash. I'm a portal with two faces.

I am still writing this story, my story, their story, our story. Though I fear soon I will have to stop. For I am coming towards the end, well today, and I cannot chose my own fate, I will have to wait it out I suppose.

Through everything it is true. Only half of me is here. Half of me is somewhere far away, I don't know where, but I know who with. Never will my mind permit me to forget. Never would I want to.


Everyday I think of him, every beat of my heart, every step I take. If I lose hold on what I believe in, what I've made my choice, I rest my hand over my heart, the half I have. I can feel him, I know he's alive; I know he's well. I know he can't forget me; he has a piece of me he couldn't ignore. I think he's like me anyway, even if it hurts to remember, we'd rather. Forgetting is losing, giving up. I am stubborn in ways.

Many men have taking an interest in me suddenly. Now that we're all healing. Children have been taking in by kindly people. Their hospitality is something I thank. Even I have housed a few children, even if only for a few days. I myself am really only a child. No one seems to mind though; no one is running up to me saying I must get foster parents. They know I can take care of myself. They know I'm capable. I've proven myself beyond my own worth, especially when I was Ash. Even though many of them have been taking every opportunity to get close to me, like I in the past always wanted. I could dance with them, or talk with them. I had my chose. But this time it wasn't because they were lost and alone and desperate, struggling to forget it all with whatever drugs they could scrounge up. It was because I was me, and for some reason I appealed to them. But I'd always recline whatever offer theirs were. I without consent from my own self have long ago dedicated myself, heart, body, and soul to someone.


So I gently say I can't for whatever reason, and I leave. Whether I'm shopping or just taking a walk, I leave. Not because I'm afraid they'll convince me, simply because I do not wish to put up with it. Some would be arrogant or sullen about it, and if I hesitate they might think they could convince me. I do not wish to be in such a situation where drastic things may occur, or a fight may ensue. I don't like arguing with people. I may not be quite as shy and timid as I used to be. But still I prefer to keep to myself.

Most of my day is spent weeding, and plating, talking to my flowers. Whispering to them, so they wont be lonely. I know what lonely is, I hate to see that in anyone or thing. Sometimes I hum to them.

Diamond's song.

I cook for myself, and sit listening to the wind. Feeling its cool caress. It brings me closer to Diamond. He was ultimately the one who saved me. Not Ghost or the sparrows or the hawk or Onion.


They all helped dramatically. But Diamond was who I changed for. He broke my own will, broke Ash's will. I don't even know how. I won't deny I miss him, I wont deny I love him. Diamond. I don't let my hopes get up though. Don't let myself be assured he'll return. For he may not. I simply force myself to be happy with the shard I have of him. Once though, my hopes were raised. About a month ago, I heard some people talking about a grim young man they'd seen, and about how he wouldn't speak to them. I listened further, expecting them to go on about a half burnt face. A trait not many would forget or let be unspoken. Though they didn't say anything. I let somewhere deep inside me believe it'd healed considerably or they'd already mentioned it. Though surely he'd of come back by now if they'd seen him. I know he wouldn't pass me by if he'd really returned. My hope had eventually hurt me, and now I am happy with what I have. And in a way, I still do have hope in him.

I'm sitting all alone, just sitting thinking, out on the porch, listening to the wind. It seems to have called everyone so far away from me. Though I know they're all always with me. I can feel them.

The hawk is circling. I let a smile escape me. He's flying towards the city and my eyes follow him. I can see a tall figure heading up the road, towards my house. It's a man, I can tell. I wonder if it's another to come ask me to be with him. I prepare my short and hopeful un-painful let down.

There was something about the way he walked. Just the aura he gave off. He followed the wind, the one that was simultaneously whipping my hair around my face. It'd grown almost to its previous length. The man neared, he was tall, with a leather jacket. I felt the hope inside me swell up, though I commanded it not to. It forced me to stand in awe. It couldn't be him. But deep inside I knew it was. As though the other half of my heart was returning to me, filling all the empty spaces left. Washing out all the embers and ash. I would have runt o him if my legs had permitted it.

It suddenly hit me. I looked so much different. I was Green, not the Ash he'd known. What if he didn't recognize me. Like my sister in my dream. It filled my half heart with dread. But I realized how foolish I was being. This was Diamond. Wonderful, perfect Diamond. Who'd known me before I could remember myself. He'd done a picture of Green while Ash still stood tall in proud in front of him. He'd know me. It wasn't about words or looks. It was just there. Just something that was. You learn in life, there are some things you just don't question. And this would be one of them. Besides, my home-done tattoos would give me away, even if they'd faded into green.

His strides were more hurried as he neared. Trying to reach me before anything prevented him. I didn't know how he could still be calmly walking. I couldn't even move. If I could, I wouldn't be able to walk, hurried strides or not.

When he was but a few short steps away he slowed to a stop. I figured the same reaction in me had hit him. I stared at him a moment. There was silence. Always silence with him, but we didn't need words. I could see his face. Still charred and burnt, but healing. The scars wouldn't fade for years, if ever though. But that didn't matter to me. Other girls would have shied away. Looking for a flawless porcelain face. But I wasn't other girls. I was Green. And to me Diamond was flawless.

Finally he moves, slowly at first, but he seems to gain confidence. He stopped again directly in front of me, questioningly almost. His eyes hold so much, and I need no words. He's afraid I can tell. I don't think he was happy with what he found while he was gone searching...I don't think he found her. And maybe he was afraid I wouldn't welcome him, that he'd lose me too. That now, when everything was rebuilt, and everyone had moved on, I would too have moved on.

I reached out and held onto his hands. It was cold, and I was welcoming him inside. No words, they weren't needed. He understood. And I could see the smile spread across his face. He wasn't afraid anymore.

The first things he did when entering was look through the window at my garden, the one he'd healed for me. He smiled again at all the lovely blooming vegetables and flowers. I thanked him. Finally I got to thank him. He shook his head modestly. I know he was telling me that all she'd ever needed to do was believe. I told him I believed now. And he seemed slightly surprised that I'd pinpointed his feelings so perfectly. I could sense him remember the short part of his life with me. Sense him slowly falling back into it.

I've realized in the past that not only did he have half my heart, but I have half his. Now we shared one. A feeling I didn't wish to disperse.

When Onion saw Diamond I was cooking us dinner. Onion promptly began licking at Diamond's hand, so happy to see him again. I could see the hawk outside the window, circling over the skies. The hawk too was pleased to be reunited, even if from afar.

We ate in silence, and I don't really remember ever being happier. When night fell he left towards what I presumed the barn. I stopped him though. Instead leading him to my room. I know other girls wouldn't have allowed him to sleep next to them. But as I've repeated many times over, I am not other girls. I am Green. And I could trust him; he wouldn't try anything so soon. I wanted to be near him, and I wanted him to have a warm bed to sleep in. He understood me, and I understood him. Relieving all conflicts that might have occurred with a normal couple. I suppose that's what we are. Only much different. I am Green, and he is Diamond. We are different separately and together.

He'd already shed himself of his leather jacket, and didn't bother changing anymore than that. I decided I've have to get him some new clothes.

His warm arms encircled me. And I decided that earlier when I thought I'd never be happier, I was mistaken. I kissed bother sides of his face as I'd done once before. And he kissed me. I'm mistaken again.

I could hear him let out a sigh. As though a long journey had just finished, and a new sun had finally risen. His forehead was rested against my own. Then, for the first time he spoke, his voice was ruff, out of practice, he'd not spoken for so long it didn't know how to sound. I didn't need him to say what he did. But it was the first time anyone had ever said it to me. He said:

"You're beautiful…"

I'll never be sad again.