The footprints in the snow suddenly ended. Or rather, the snow ended, suddenly and strangely. The footsteps continued, singed into the dry winter grass. Black footsteps continued, an at an even pace, all the way to the dunes.
At first, I thought that they would disappear at the sand, but as I got closer, I saw that they had continued, but the sheer heat had melted the sand into glass. Glass footsteps, glittering and shining, clearly the shape of a human foot, worked their way over the dunes, without any seeming regard for the angle of the dune. I climbed to the top of the dune, carefully avoiding touching these strange relics, and when I got to the top the wide blue sea stretched out in front of me.
The grey sky was empty of clouds except for one and I could see quite far. I didn't know quite where the angel had gone, until I realized what that single cloud was. I fumbled for my binoculars, my original birdwatching trip long forgotten. In the far distance, the winged-thing was walking on top of the water, the ocean bubbling and steaming around him as he took each step. The impossibility of it all didn't seem to matter, least of all to him as he continued to walk across the top of the water.
I was sitting there, cold and shivering in the predawn light. The bright light and giant crash had roused me, and now as I stood watching the angel walk away, I wondered what this meant. The world was too small, too cold for this thing. His very touch burned away the pointless things, his hand was a crucible that left only that which matter. I touched my chest where cold metal hung, and I shivered again, watching the angel walk away. I hoped he did not turn to loo