a fragment of memory

something happened on my way to the other world: hell or heaven or whatever you want to call. I ended up somewhere else, where a moment was cursed to stretch to eternity unless someone or something that does not belonged to the place showed up. I was that someone. And when I reached that place, I saw the crimson red sun envious of the ground, for it was drenched to its core with blood and scattered with flesh and bones on the surface. So many that you would not be able to count even in an eternity. Your memory would not be big enough to remember the last long number! And yet, more creatures rose from the ground and took up arms. With my arrival, the moment ended and the creatures stopped rising and the sun once again began to go down; probably faster, for I'm sure it did not want to watch this gory place any longer. Hundreds more, may be a few thousands more creatures left, grouped in a circle, fighting. But this thousand is insignificant, shamefully insignificant to the number that lie slain. Were they fighting themselves? If so, it would not be a surprise, for they are so savage, so brutal, so strong and fast. But, no. They are not fighting themselves, for a moment later I saw the warrior or rather a part of him. He had wings! I saw the wings raised above. I saw only the wings. Black wings dripping with scarlet red blood. And then I heard a chanting in some strange language and then I saw thunder striking down a few hundreds of those horrible creatures. It made me shudder. I no longer knew which to fear: the ugly and the savage beasts or the lightning wielding warrior who killed hundreds of them in a moment. I saw more beasts fall. And then when the number reduced to a hundred, I was able to see the warrior. And I saw the warrior in full glory. The warrior was a she warrior! Her movements were fast, so fast my eyes could not keep up with the speed. I saw her wings and both the hands move and it seemed to me that in one thrust of her wings and hands she killed around twenty of those beasts. She seemed to have noticed that the curse was broken. She looked hastily for the object that entered the world. It was when she paused to do this, that I saw a long slender bluish silver sword in one hand and her other bare hand clutching a heart and crushing it. I saw her eyes fall on me, those red-black eyes that seemed to have tried to pierce me but failed. Something about her attitude changed. She seemed to have been relieved that the curse was broken and yet, she seemed sad. Her fury and vigor revived and she swayed her sword one more time and she faltered, fell on her knees while it rained blood and flesh of the remaining foul creatures. Falling on to her knees, she thrust the blade into the ground and clung onto it. I was considering approaching her. My path to her is laid with a thick wet carpet of soft and bloody flesh. Nevertheless, I walked to her. She did not seem to have the strength to look up. So I bent down and tried to raise her up to her feet. She was surprisingly light, though it should not have been a surprise. A winged creature, she is. She ought to be light. I slid her arm across my shoulder and tried to walk her away from that mess to somewhere else, though it was the same gory scene for as far as my eyes could see. She removed her sword from the ground and dragged it along. Her face was so close to mine. She was beautiful. I wanted to see her face more clearly and absorb all the details. I turned to see her face and then without knowing what I was doing, I kissed her cheek. I saw a drop of water down her eye and then it started pouring from heaven. It became too dark for dusk and it was raining so hard, I felt miserable thinking that this lady must now feel cold after such a epic battle. She did not open her eyes, nor lift her face. Not when I kissed her. Not when it started raining. But I saw the rain wash all the blood off her. She did not have a single wound, except for one straight cut across her wrist on the hand she is holding her sword. I realised she is beginning to regain her strength, for she was now weighing lesser and lesser on me and her steps became more steady. All of a sudden she stopped, looked into my face, held me across my waist and stretched her wings and .......
We are now sitting, very close to each other. I have never been so close to anyone when I lived. We were sitting on a hill top, a very tall hill, for the wind was blowing against my face and I could hear the feather ruffle in her out-stretched wings. She seemed to be enjoying this. But I could only see tears in her eyes.

At this the scene fades away!
Now, is this a figment of imagination? or a fragment of memory? I only know I heard so distinctly the ruffle each feather in her majestic big black wings made against the wind.

Jade.