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The angle that rose above

Short story By: Livebecauseyoucan

Most of my stories are short, there is a good reason for this. I love to express feelings and meanings in one shot one scene. I love when not all quesions are answerered. I imagine more then write, so read, don't take in every mistake I make. Just enjoy!

Submitted:Jun 22, 2012    Reads: 33    Comments: 9    Likes: 2   

He came running at me, all senses tuned on me. His face was vicious like a dog's when it had been teased and stirred up. I watched him leap over the room, his long legs dodging the burnt pieces of carpet from my fireballs. I had missed him every time.

There was no time left for me to do anything now, I knew and he knew. If only my brain knew.

I smacked my hand against his head, fist hitting directly in the middle of his ugly, squared head. I pushed him away from me, hand still stinging from the impact of force. I shook it out, and wiggled my fingers in different directions making sure it wasn't broken. My head snapped up just in time and I ducked a punch that was heading to me. Hesitantly, I stopped staring at my hand; I decided to ignore the pain.

"Ugh" I grunted and coughed up blood, backing towards a brick wall the seemed to tower above me, high. I pulled off the foot that had just hit me in the abdomen, and felt my stomach bubble back out. I twisted his ankle, sharply and heard a crack. It looked swollen and bulged with redness where a crack of blood was seeping through. Oh dam I was good, I had broken his foot as well as dismantled the bones.

Now his face was burning with anger, "That's it" He tried to sound infuriating but the rest of his speech became gurgled with blood. And I had had enough.

My foot pounded into his chest twice, kicking his face sideways as he tried to stop it andimitate what I had done. Now blood retreated from his eyes, his face was already going black. And I had won.

No I hadn't. I watched him scoop out his gun from his belt which now hung loosely and worn. He was in the most awful shape you could be in for a demon- his hair hung limply splattered across his forehead, leaving imprints when he had wiped it from sweat. His face looked a puffer fish with a swarm of purple and black skin surrounding it. His lips dry and cracked, with blood smeared across in a way that made him look like a vampire. For all I knew he could be, he took human life as lightly as one. And of course there was his clothes, ripped to pieces apart from a few strings hanging on, each one covered with blood as there was a dark liquid escaping the wound.

I was panicked when I saw him reveal the stashed gun, until again my head register the sight of him. He staggered about, pointing the gun at- what? It wasn't even aimed at me. It was pointed at a nearby tree, shadowed by the two of us. I raised my eyebrows at him, he realised what he was doing and straightened himself up then attempting to keep a weapon on me.

But I knew by then, there was no reason to be scared. He could hardly keep concentration for more than a few seconds. He eyes kept rolling back into his head; he was too defeated to carry on anymore. I didn't know why I hadn't left him, why I hadn't killed him already. Time was ticking on, but I just stood there, expression blank.

Finally he spoke "Just do it" he said words sounded blurry, passing the gun into my hands. He could have had shot me but he didn't.

I sighed. I didn't curl up my fingers and wrench his away like I should of. I didn't even blindly care that he was giving me a weapon to destroy his life. But what I did do was the right thing; I knew so in my heart.

I watched as he collapsed onto the ground, really knocking himself out this time. He wasn't dead, I could tell by the steady rhythm of heartbeat pulsing through his body. There wasn't much I could do for a demon. But I knew I couldn't kill him.

I didn't want too.

I knelt down onto the cold, concrete ground and placed the gun from my hand to his. It was up to him with what he would do with his life. I couldn't do anything more apart from excuse his death; he might still die though his condition was poor.

No. Stop. I told myself breathing in a puff of air that was circulating around us.

He was a demon. I was an angel.

I had to leave.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself off the ground and onto my toes. "Change for the goodness of the world" I wished for him as I took one more look around our destroyed scene.

An assortment of boxes were clashed together all over the room and I realised it was a warehouse of some sort. Too bad the cleaners were going to have to clean it all up. I had to get going.

I said goodbye to the cursed man, goodbye to the scene where mankind could have been drastically changed. Goodbye to the blood and gore splotched on every single area of room. There was a lot of room.

I picked up the gun, I wasn't going home. I wasn't going to kill the demon. I was going to killing myself. I had to go, I had to leave this world.

What I had just done for the man was not anything to be excused from. I was to be accused.

I would have been murdered anyway, in heaven as soon as I left here. Why waste their time, I will do it now- I thought. This move was to signify hell I would become one, sparing another demons life meant exactly that.

Bring on the new life.

I raised the gun to my head.

And I watched the blackness drown out the sun setting in front. Before long, I would be in the place; I would be ready to call home.


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