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Put Me to Sleep Evil Angel

Novel By: Penelope Garenther
Other


Put me to sleep evil angel.
Open your wings evil angel.
Let me die her alone.

For Forbidden's Ultimate Challenge. View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6

Submitted:Aug 6, 2010    Reads: 97    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


I looked out across the ice crusted city. Dawn was barely breaking, sending the horizon into flames as the sun rose to greet the sky. It was still quiet, but it wasn't as quiet as a cemetery where the dead sleep nor was it bustling with life; it was perfect.
Taking out a stool, I placed it on the grass along with a pedestal. Relieving my shoulders, I placed the heavy bag on the wet grass. Dipping my hands inside it, I dug around for brushes and paints, but all I came out with was a brush and a half eaten sandwich from yesterday. Muttering to myself, I opened the bag wider to peer inside of it. I found a collection of oil paints and brushes in cases at the bottom of the bag, hiding from me. "Up you come." I had a habit of talking to myself, especially while I'm painting. People also had the tendency to give me a look that suggested that I lost my marbles before continuing on their trek through the park. Before, I used to bring my IPod and unknowingly I would sing along with the song that was playing. Complaints were soon made and cops were soon to follow to come and tell me - nicely - to shut the hell up because I'm disturbing the peace. I quickly apologized and swear that it was never going to happen, but deep inside I knew I was a filthy liar. So to keep my promise, I brought classical music. The stuff that Vivaldi and Beethoven were famous for; but I soon found out that if the song portrayed any emotion like anger, my artwork would come out in hard strokes that streaked across the page. And it looked like the crap they call 'Modern Artwork'. So now, I either listen to neutral music or I talk to myself and deal with people thinking I'm crazy.
I set my things up in front of a fountain that no longer flowed out water. Around it where small sculptures sat, they were of angels. All four were not the same. They seemed like they told a story, but none that I could think of. I decided the start of the story began with the angel bring a platter and offering it up to the fountain, but its face was a look of betrayal; the next sculpture was of two angels, one with a sword pointed at the other one; the third sculpture was of the angel in a fit of rage; and the one that I stood in front of was the same angel, but it was a smiling skeleton. It's bagging angel clothes hung across his body that still remained covered in flesh. His wings hung behind him dirty with either age or from the sculptor's hand. Muscles were shown off from this half nude body, his arms stretched out to frame a picture of a man with long dark hair and a goatee. His eyes were hard and showed no emotion as he looked out into eternity. The skeleton stood still as if he were the girl who was on that show, Spin the Wheel. Showing off a letter and moving her hands around it elaborately. He smiled like her too - if he were real -, but his smile showed off decaying teeth. I imagine his eyes would smile too if they hadn't sunken into his skull, leaving two sockets showing only vast darkness.
I didn't know what to start with. His face? His body? The wings? The picture? I wasn't sure, so I sat there. For hours just thinking of what to start with. I decided his face was the thing that was going to be most important. Especially his eyes. At some point of my life I read that 'the eyes are gateways into the soul', but how is that possible for something that never had a soul to begin with? I guess it's possible, well it is for this statue for it seems as if it once knew life and for all its grand tragedies.
"Huh, you're a different little fella', aren't ya?" I analyzed the statue. Preparing myself to make the first stroke of the replica of the statue.
"Yes, none like the others."
I was surprised, "Yeah, completely different. Won't you tell me your story evil angel?" I paused, I'm talking to a statue. Maybe I've gone crazy! "I'm mad, lost of my marbles mad. Ah damn, they are going to stick me into a psych ward because of you!" I continued my little rant until a voice stopped me in mid-sentence.
"Or you are mistaking my voice for the statue's." I giggled and turned as red as a tomato. I looked up at the man who owned the voice that I was convinced was the statue's. He was tall with dark hair flowing down to his shoulders. What a striking individual he was. With dark piercing eyes that reminded me of the picture next to the skeleton, but this one held merriment. "What is your name?" He smiled. He has a charming smile with perfect lips.
"Uggh… it's Airlia. Yours?" I stumbled over saying my own name, I AM SO STUPID! Out of habit I started wringing my hands in my lap. He was cute and I was making an idiot of myself. He arched in eyebrow and amusement showed in his brown or are they black eyes? I blushed deeper and cursed myself for being prone to blushing. "Luce. Now, why are you painting this angel rather than the others? He's not as," he searched for the word, "glorifying as the others." Finding it he smiled at me again.
I already knew the answer and spit it out before I could arrange a proper sentence in my head, "he's different like the….ugh… I mean than the other angelic statues. I like him, he entices me." He smiled at my stupid mistake and I didn't think I could blush deeper, but today I found out I could. I wringed my hands even more. "You're going to cut off circulation if you keep on doing that." I smiled and cursed myself again, at this rate I'm going to end up in the ninth level of Hell. He made me nervous, but it wasn't just butterflies from a boy, there was something more. He gave off a dangerous feeling, but I couldn't figure out what was so dangerous about him.
"Um.." He looked uneasy, crap I missed something. "I better go." He ended up saying. I cursed myself again, well I'm definitely going to end up in the ninth level of Hell if God doesn't ask me to come back up. "Yeah, I have to go to work soon."
He smiled, "see you around then?"
I returned the smile, "I'll be here with our friend." He chuckled and cursed myself into the tenth level of Hell. I stood watching after him, "he's a handsome fellow. Wonder if I'll ever see him again."
"Oh you will." A sinister voice said.
"Huh?" I whipped around and saw nothing, "forget it. My mind is playing tricks on me." Packing my things away, I had the sudden urge to sing. "Hold it together, birds of a feather, nothing but lies and crooked wings. I have the answer, spreading the cancer, you are the faith inside of me." I could only remember those four lines and those were the ones I continued to sing. With everything packed up and ready to go, I ran to the car noticing how late it was and sped to my boring corporate job.




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