Prologue pt. 2

Prologue pt. 2

A Chapter by (*Fallenarchanglez*)

She wakes up, her body covered in a sheet of moss, clothes of a different era on her. Why was she in a simple tan cotton dress? Just what the hell happened?

Laughing, a girl’s laughter. The fallen angel closes her eyes and takes a breath, the blanket of moss trapping her exhale. The girl’s laughter, louder this time, she had to be closer. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? A boy’s voice, he was asking the girl to be careful. Careful of what, careful for what? The fallen angel’s head swam with the waterfall of thousands upon thousands of questions and questions. Questions and no answers.

As if life was breathed into her, she moved, her eyes flittering open to reveal a golden green light coming down from the filter of trees and the moss. Stiffly sitting up, the fallen angel looks around, blinking, or trying to blink away the confusion. Was this what death was like? Death is just life in a different era?

“Jade! Where’ve you been silly? Fall asleep?” Jade, was that who she was in death? The fallen’s lips seemed to answer before she could comprehend.

“Sorry, I guess I just passed out.” A bubbly laugh escapes from her. A sweet melody that surprised the fallen angel, but not the girl who asked about Jade. A boy walks into the clearing, then helps the fallen angel to her feet.

“Jade, Amethyst, we have to get out of here” With his hand wrapped around the fallen’s waist, he pleads with the strawberry blonde with whom the angel had just been talking to. “I beg of you!”

“Nothing can hurt me. Those stupid stories you guys believe in are just that, stories! Fairy tales told to children so that they behave!” As if a candle was blown out, darkness fell upon the forest and fog in huge dense clouds started rolling into the clearing. “Oh god…”

“God isn’t here, but you already knew that, didn't you dear?” The soft thud of boots hitting the ground, the harbinger of the stranger’s arrival. Long jet black hair, a golden crossbow and an olive complexion defined this stranger as she prowled through the trees, coming to a stop beside the strawberry blonde Amethyst. The stranger starts playing with the girl’s soft hair. “Only me”

“You as in who?” The fallen angel wondered aloud, the gaze of the stranger falling upon her. Amethyst takes the opportunity to run to the boy, who silently holds her to him protectively. “I don’t recognize her”

“You don’t know me? Shameful really, you should know who delivers you unto justice.” Fear slashes across the fallen angel’s companions faces, yet again, the fallen angel remains calm. Not the sane calm that comes with a sunset, the calm of insanity. The kind of insanity from facing one’s worst fear multiple times and becoming numb to emotion insanity. The boy and girl back up, trying to pull the fallen angel with them, away from the woman.

“Why me?” The words pass the fallen’s lips without hesitation, leaving the woman with a smirk. “What is just so god damned important about me?”

“You, my dear, deserve hell, and the eternal damnation of your forsaken soul” The stranger raises her crossbow level with the fallen’s chest. The fallen angel steps back, neither startled nor scared, but protective of the young souls behind her who were scared for their lives and her own.

“You can hurt me, but don’t harm them!” The fallen angel steps forward, trying to send the boy and the girl away. They stayed behind her, not understanding, or not following the suggestion. Did they realize they might die?

“Now now, what’s the fun in that?” The woman steps toward the angel, the golden crossbow aimed steadily at her chest. Determination filled her eyes as she glared at the angel, the strange woman knew that she would be the one to kill the angel. Finally justice for her sins. A small twitch of the finger, the bolt fires into the slow beating heart of the angel and the fallen angel falls to the ground, dead again.

© 2015 (*Fallenarchanglez*)

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Added on November 29, 2015
Last Updated on November 29, 2015



Albany, OR

Fresh off the swing set with self esteem lower than my motivation to write. I'm now 18, but I'm still Wiccan and anxiety ridden. more..