Chapter 1

 

      Skip. Skip. Skip. Jump! Skip. Skip. Jump! Cassandra laughed as she jumped over yet another puddle. “Papa, why does it rain?” It was one of her better days and she enjoyed her good health, a certain bounce in her voice and walk.

      A large man walked beside her, burying the tiny hand in his. He looked down at his daughter with a smile. “It rains when God is sad.”

      “So God is crying?” She glanced down at the water dripping off her clothes as she trotted along the muddy street. “But Papa, why is He sad?”

      Looking up at the dark sky, he said, “I don't know, Sweetheart.” He felt a sharp tug on his arm as Cassie used him to jump again, and relief when she landed with a splash. But she did not continue to skip. Instead, she stood on the edge of a small pool of water, her gaze fixed on an old abandoned building across the street.

      “Look!” she squealed, tugging on her father's arm. “Look!”

The man looked to where she now pointed. A woman with long black hair sat slouched against the broken doorway of the shabby structure. He turned back to the town, then to the old house, unsure of what to think. Where did she come from? She had not been there when we passed by earlier...

      “Do you see the lady, Papa?”

      “Yes, I see her,” was all he could manage.

      Suddenly, Cassie let go of his arm and ran toward the woman, not bothering to jump over the puddles this time.

      “Cassandra!” he cried, running after her. When he reached the little girl, she was standing in front of the house, gazing in awe at the woman, unashamed of her stare. The mysterious woman's eyes fluttered open to look the odd couple, and wearily closed them again, her body slipping down the damp wood of the door frame. He saw that she had bright blue eyes and was taken aback. With such a drab appearance they were quite unexpected. However, she was very beautiful. A red silk blanket was wrapped around her, ripped and filthy. Who is this woman? So many questions surrounded her. Puzzled and fearful of her appearance, he grabbed his daughter's hand and began to pull her away.

      “Come on, Cass-”

      “No!” Cassie yelped. She turned and faced her father. “We've got to help her, Papa. She'll die if we leave her.”

      “We don't know who she is...” he whispered, trying to rationalize the whole situation in his head. This woman most definitely needed someone's help, but there was something off about her. He kept remembering her eyes...

      Cassie yanked her hand from his. “Please, we have to help her. Maybe it will make God happy and he'll stop crying. Please, Papa.”

      The way she looked at him almost brought tears to his eyes. Damn this soft heart of mine. The man sighed. “Perhaps it will.” His daughter was right. They couldn't just leave her. Death, it seemed, was already knocking on her door. His thoughts were interrupted as the woman slipped further down the door frame, her whole body loose and falling. With one quick step, he swooped down and caught her before she hit the wet porch. Bringing his other arm underneath her, the man picked her up, standing upright. She was surprisingly light in his arms. Only this close did he notice a white feather entangled in her hair. He tugged at it, but it did not budge. He was distracted as the red blanket slipped off her shoulder and he quickly pulled it back up, tucking it between her body and his.

      So many things were happening at once. He let out a long deep breath and allowed the cool rain to run freely down his face. Cassie tugged on his shirt and he looked down to her. He sighed again. “All right. Lead the way, Darlin'.” She smiled and started skipping back down the street to their house, which was now barely visible, only a dim flicker of light in one of the windows.

      Drake sat at the kitchen table, the main attraction in the small house, sharpening his knife with a stone. The blade was clearly sharp enough by now, but Drake wasn't paying attention. He stared off at some distant spot on the wall, the constant movement and sound of the metal scraping against the stone dull, yet calming. His mind wandered to other things. It was as if a dream, but she was there. I touched her. I saw her. It couldn't have been. But it has to be - Suddenly, the door flew open and banged against the wall as Cassandra pushed it open, the now heavy winds doing the rest. Drake set the knife and stone down and slowly stood up from his chair. His father walked in carrying a young woman in his arms. All three of them were dripping wet from the new downfall of rain. Coming to his senses, Drake walked over to the door and forced it shut behind the large man, turning back to the inside of the house. He glanced at the figure in his father's arms and gasped. “No...” he whispered, rooted to the spot. Drake looked up at him. “Get her out of here.”

      “What?”

      “She does not belong here. At all. Get her out,” Drake demanded. He still stood in front of the door, fists now clenched.

      “What has gotten into you, Drake? She needs out help. She stays,” he replied roughly.

      “Why?” Drake demanded again.

      “Because I said so!” the man roared.

      He doesn't understand, Drake thought, He doesn't know who she is, what she has done. He just doesn't understand! He looked down at the wet floorboards. “You say so because Cassie says so,” he mumbled.

      “Drake, my son,” his father started, his tone softer, “there is no reason for her not to be here. Why don't you want her here? No, don't say anything, it doesn't matter. She stays. Look at her. She will bring us no trouble.” His son was just about to say something when he cut him off. “That is my final word.” And with that he turned toward one of the rooms and walked in, placing the woman on the bed.

      Coming in behind him, Drake said, “Why are you putting her in my room?”

      His father turned around and looked at him. “Because you will take care of her. All you do these days is sit at home and mope. You need some responsibility, Drake. I have to tend to Cassie before she catches the cold again. Do not argue.” Drake mumbled something as the man passed by him and into the kitchen, but he pretended not to hear his son's complaints. He closed the door behind him, leaving Drake alone. Except for her. Drake walked up to the bed.

      Drake gazed down at the unconscious woman, he skin damp and glossy in the candlelight. Her black hair, also wet, clung to her face. He brushed aside a hair that lay across her cheek. Oh how many times he had longed to caress that cheek when she was away. And now she was here, here on Earth. For good. Why? Because of him. No, he thought, not because of me. She fell because it was her mistake in lusting over me and lying about it. She brought about her own downfall. Drake glanced over to her attire, the same from when he last saw her. Now it was torn and dirty. It seemed to him that life on Earth was not as kind as it was in heaven. Of course not. But God was supposed to be merciful... Drake gently removed the red silk from her body and set it aside. Putting a hand on her arm, he noted how much colder she was compared to when she was a true angel. Just being near her made him warm, and now he was the one that was going to heat her. Everything had turned, and Drake wasn't sure how to handle it all. This wasn't a dream anymore, this was reality. The stained glass painting has shattered, a once pretty picture of fantasy. Now he must tread upon the broken glass and pray he doesn't get hurt along the way. But pain - life - is inevitable.

      As Drake looked down at her naked body, a flood of memories filled his mind and he braced himself against the bed. He remembered the first time he had seen her. Her skin had seemed to glow, even her light breaths had a musical tone to them. It was as if her sighs were carrying a song past his ears, telling him of her love. “A lie,” Drake whispered, bringing himself back to reality.

      The angel still had not stirred. Then something flew past him, a terrible urge that he could not resist. Drake gently ran his hand up her arm to her neck, gliding his fingers across her damp skin. His fingers suddenly began to burn, and felt fire blaze through him and consume his heart. He quickly withdrew, heart pounding and palms clammy. “No.” Those days are gone.

      Drake proceeded to pick her up, pull the covers back, and place her back in the bed, bringing the covers up to her neck. He let slip another glance at her, and abruptly left, closing the door to his room behind him, leaving the fallen angel in darkness. His father sat at the table, staring blankly out the window. Drake could see the moon hanging low in the sky, a cloud lazily floating past it. The man looked up as he heard his son come in.

      “Where is Cassie?” Drake asked.

      “In bed.”

      “Is she well?”

      “For now.”

      Drake glanced at the closed door. “I will sleep in her room tonight, then. Goodnight, Father,” he said, and turned without another word.

Reviews

[Lady]

"Drake set the knife and stone down and slowly stood up from his chair. His father walked in carrying a young woman in his arms. All three of them were dripping wet from the new downfall of rain."

Change to - "Drake set the knife and stone down and slowly stood up from his chair. His father walked in carrying a young woman in his arms. All three of them were soaked with rain."

"He stared off at some distant spot on the wall, the constant movement and sound of the metal scraping against the stone dull, yet calming. His mind wandered to other things. It was as if a dream, but she was there. I touched her. I saw her. It couldn't have been. But it has to be ""

There's a quote mark at the end of this segment that isn't necessary - believe it's just a typo. Also I would make the actual thought its own new indented paragraph.

"Drake mumbled something as the man passed by him and into the kitchen, but he pretended not to hear his son's complaints. He closed the door behind him, leaving Drake alone. Except for her. Drake walked up to the bed."

Get rid of - "Except for her. Drake walked up to the bed."

"Drake gazed down at the unconscious woman, he skin damp and glossy in the candlelight. Her black hair, also wet, clung to her face."

Change to - "Drake gazed down at the unconscious woman, her skin damp and glossy in the candlelight, wet black hair clinging to her face."

"The stained glass painting has shattered, a once pretty picture of fantasy. Now he must tread upon the broken glass and pray he doesn't get hurt along the way. But pain " life " is inevitable."

There's a typo again with quotation marks.

"Drake proceeded to pick her up, pull the covers back, and place her back in the bed, bringing the covers up to her neck."

- Wasn't she already lying in his bed? I just assumed that's where the father had put her in the first place. Might want to clarify this.

Again, I hope my corrections help. Your writing is beautifully done!