Mon Bel'Ange

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Waiting like a caged bird...when will I be free...?
That's how the angel of the story feels when she lives a life imprisoned in a huge mansion. She lost a very important person in her past, but how will she remember him after reading his journal?

Submitted: December 30, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 30, 2011



There's a rustling at the window. I stop browsing the endless library to check. I see only leaves from the oak trees. My hopeful thoughts drop like a rock. I turn back to my daily distractions. I pick up the books, one by one, to just replace them back onto the shelves. Dully, I glance at the titles, not actually searching for anything.

Rows and rows of books, long enough to take weeks of exploring, full enough to take a lifetime reading, exciting and informative enough to keep one's  attention forever...but nothing appeals to me. I will stay here and read, and read, and read with all supplies needed and, with only a faint beckoning, it will be there, but I will never have anyone to share pain, silence, loneliness, or anything with. Angrily, I shove a brick of a volume back in its place. With tears burning my vision, I swiftly swerve away, heading towards my room. THUMP! It crashes to the desk like thunder.

I'm wide-eyed as I turn back. A journal, only about an inch, lay innocently sitting there. Suddenly, piano music fill my ears. The melody is sad, but pretty. It's light and gentle, but it puts a weight on my heart. It's the song you used to play. Dancing, singing, reading, laughing, we had so much fun. We used to do so much,, I wouldn't let myself remember.

I reached the journal. Leather-bound; your favorite. The soft, fading material feels cool as my fingers brush it. The latch looks old. I look around for a key, but as I do, it drops out from in between the pages. I give a soft, disheartening chuckle. That is so like you. Click! The cover falls open with a sigh of relief. Dust disguises the true color of the yellowing paper. I wipe it off.

Some ink writing catches my eye. A single word that makes me think of nothing else; the word you wrote: \"happy\". I quickly wipe the rest of the page, curiosity taking over. Only a few pages are actually written on. Most of it are actually doodles and drawings. I laugh. A true, \"happy\" laugh. I surprise myself with it.

\"Hmph,\" I whisper, \"You always WERE the only one who could make me smile.\" I begin to read the page with more interest.

\"Today I've been sent to stay with HER for the rest of my life, locked up with her. Why should I? She was the one being punished, why must we be punished as well?\"

More pain fills my heart as I finish reading. \"I'm sorry,\" I whisper. I continue to read.

\"I meet her at last. In a castle-like mansion where all needs can and WILL be fulfilled for a lifetime for more than one hundred people, I meet her. Quiet, sullen, and depressing is what she is. Reading, reading, and reading. I guess that's why the library makes up more than a third of the entire mansion plot. Whenever she has company, she stares off into a dream world. She isn't someone I'm supposed to like, she's the reason why we're locked up, too! Yet, whenever I see that delicate and sad face of an angel, I can't help but want to cheer HER up; the girl who never knew true happiness.\"

\"We are becoming friends, believe it or not. I'm not allowed to tell her my name, and neither is she, so she calls me 'Nicholas', after a hero she once read of. It is close enough to my name that I don't care. I call her 'Angel.' She asked me why, but I couldn't tell her, I was too shy. Her soft, pink lips; wavy, gold hair; deep, blue eyes; delicate, white skin; fragile figure, they ALL resemble an angel. Pure, untouched and unstained by the cold world beyond her walls. I asked her if she liked being protected and spoiled so. She looked at me with such hurt and despise that I was shocked. She told me, 'What good is protection if I do not see the danger from which I'm being protected? What good is being safe from the outside if the outside is in danger? This \"protection\" is nothing more than walls of prevention! I have no freedom to go where and as I please! I would give anything to be where they are now. I am nothing but a caged bird.' And she turned an walked away. I think about it now, and I can't agree with her more.\"

My face is buried in my arms. No, I must keep reading!

\"How much time has already passed since I first wrote in this? It must have been weeks and weeks, or maybe even months! Time passes so quickly with Angel that there was no time do write at all! She truly smiles now. The first time she did, she shined like the sun. I love seeing her smile.\"

I laugh at this, tears still streaming.

\"We do so much together now! We sing (oh, how her voice rings. She's more beautiful than even the the most pleasant birds!), dance (she's so terribly light on her feet! Sometimes I fear I might step on her even though I'm the one who taught her to dance!), and read. But what I love to do most, is play piano. She says my hands are the most beautiful voice. She loves it. When she is frightened or just wants to hear it, I'll play. She will sit beside me a I do. I play for so long that she relaxes and drifts off to sleep. I wish I could do this every night. That way, I don't need to hear her scream and cry in her dreams. Every time I hear her in pain, knives stab at my own heart. Tonight, I will perform for her the song I wrote for her. I call it, 'Mon Bel'Ange,' 'My Beautiful Angel.'\"

\"Idiot.\" I remember that night. How sweetly the notes drifted. His song was a gift for me. I was happy. I never had a nightmare ever again.

\"I'm sure it has been more than years now. I learned that Angel is only one year younger than me. I am seventeen now, and I will turn eighteen at the end of the month. At that time, I will be released from here. I will have to leave Angel alone in this mansion of unhappiness. How can I do that? I love her too much. That is also the reason why I am being forced to leave her now. I can't leave her; I won't! We will escape. Angel and I will escape together. Then she will never have to be trapped again under the rule of her tyrannical father. We will stay together and never be separated. I have made my decision.\"

I begin to close the book. That is the end of our story together, I think to myself. There is nothing more to read. Then I notice more ink.

\"Amy, (yes, I have learned your true name, my angel.) if you are reading this, that means I have failed you. It means that we were not able to escape together. I am sorry that I couldn't save you like your Prince Nicholas in your story. I cannot save the angel from imprisonment like the story went. Chances are, they haven't killed me. If they did, then don't cry, my beautiful Angel; I will always be in your heart and in this journal, as few pages as there are. I will also be in our song. I left you the music notes and taught you how to read and play. One day, if you practice enough, you will play in a way that you will remember me. If they have not killed me, then please wait for me. I will save you one day, as soon as I possibly can. I swear to it. No matter how long it takes, please wait for me. I will work hard so that, when I do save you, we will be happy together. Please wait for me. From your dearly beloved, Nathan.\"

Teardrops rolled down my cheek no matter how hard I tried to hold them in. It's been five years since then. Five lonely years. I smile. Hope floods into my entire body. \"I'll wait for you, Nathan. I'm waiting for my Prince Nicholas.\"

Tap, tap.

I twirl around to face the window. A familiar face peeked in, smiling. I run to the window, throwing it open an climbing out. I gasp with joy. I realize, the angel has finally escaped with her Prince Nicholas.

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