Prologue pt. 3

Prologue pt. 3

A Chapter by (*Fallenarchanglez*)

Awake, a fresh breath of air. What had happened? The fallen angel sits up and looks around, shivering. She was on top of a cliff, in a silk slip, similar to the one she had been wearing when the demonic lady had shot her through the heart in front of those poor young souls. . . Were they safe? Her hands travel to the spot between her bosoms, finding no hole in the silk, just as she expected. She blinks and looks around, trying to shake away the confusion that is befuddling her mind. It was hard to think with all the raging water near by.

Turning around, she unknowingly steps into the icy stream, then jumps back out with an exclamation of surprise. She shakes her foot off, trying to dry it before the bone-chilling cold overstayed its welcome.

She hears birds chirping in the distance as she walks with a glide over the edge of the cliff, the balls of her feet padding across the rock and grass. A small giggle bubbles up from her chest, taking flight in the air as she jumps off of one rock and onto another with twirls and pivots.

She was dancing with death, taunting him, as if asking for another advance, yet saying she is unwelcoming to one. She flirted with fate, the silk dress kissing the soft skin of her ebony skin. The soft pale lavender silk of the dress caressed her petite figure as laughter and dance coursed through her. As her left foot taps down upon a grassy spot, she opens her eyes and a growl awakens her from a state of edenic peace.

“S**t” She mutters as she notices a large arctic wolf step closer, his teeth bared and a loud prolonged growl emitted from his throat. “Haven’t you all gotten tired of me not dying?”

The wolf answers by snapping at her hands, causing her to dance away, teetering on the edge. The wolflicks it’s muzzle, wiping away the blood it drew from the fallen angel’s left forearm. The fallen curses under her breath as the blood catches her eye.

“Whatever did I do to you?” The wolf lunges again, snapping at her thighs. The fallen angel falls backwards, losing her footing. The water from the waterfall splashed onto her silk dress, chilling the red-hot pain of the bites into a dull throbbing. “Again? And this one cannot even talk back and delay this from happening, just so f*****g perfect, absolutely f*****g perfect”

The wolf snarls, in a way as if it were laughing. The wolf was laughing at the fallen angel. Can wolves even laugh? “Good boy”

Who had said that? Who even was that? AS she was falling, the fallen angel’s mind was swimming with more questions, and still, none with answers. Every question only birthed more. “Finish the job”

The fallen angel plummets into the icy water, but doesn’t try to move. She knows she’s going to die again. She knows it’ll be painful. She just cannot remember what she has done to deserve death thrice over. Surely she doesn’t deserve it. They must’ve mistaken her for someone else.

A splash of the arctic wolf jumping into the water awakens her from her little world of thoughts. The wolf was just a shadow above her. If only she could hold her breath long enough for it to go away. Precious bubbles of her last breath leave her lips, then are churned into the water by the kicking of the wolf’s legs.

The fallen angel’s back touches the bottom of the lake, her eyes glossing over as the eager water rushes into her lungs. Again, her soul leaves her body...

© 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..