Fallen Angel, Sophie Luna [best books to read for students txt] 📗

missing - the groom. They probably saw her hungry fluttering eyes from a mile away - poor thing. Slowly, I finally propelled myself vertical; curious to see in what stage of metamorphosis she currently was in.
“He might be the one,” Jenna interjected, in a dreamy tone.
“Maybe, you never know when that perfect someone will walk in the door,” I returned, watching her, forcing an upbeat face, not wanting to be the one to squash her vivacious personality. That girl has been knocked down so many times and yet kept bouncing back. One reason for my defiant compassion over these beings, their tenacity. Some of their stories were so awful; it’s a miracle they persevered. Faithfully, they just keep on trucking, hoping for a brighter day.
With her face pressed up to the mirror, she carefully glued on her inch long eyelashes, laying a wide line of eyeliner around her eyes that would make a raccoon envious. “What are you waiting for? Get ready! We have to be at Luciana’s Bistro in fifteen minutes,” she choked.
“Sorry,” I called rushing to my closet. It would be unthinkable, to miss such an event.
This hissing sound of a thousand cobras followed me as she sprayed on another film of lacquer to her helmet hairdo. Jenna was going for elegant party hair tonight. She was convinced it made her look sexy, adding a couple inches on her petite frame.
“I’m ready!” I yelled back, pulling on a little black dress.
Giving a shake to my long cherry brown hair, I slipped on my red stilettos and in a blink of an eye shot out of my room. I lounged in the living room waiting for her to douse herself with perfume and another layer of fortitude. Opening my compact, I swiped my lips, ruby red. Oh yes, the guys always like the blood look. There was no denying with my heritage, I remained a hopeless tease.
Surveying my pale face, I powdered my right cheek. The jagged scars had nearly healed. My body had taken quite a beating yesterday, my latest death.
A horrible affair, swallowed in the agony of crushed bones, while my muscles and skin were ground to a bloody pool, like getting run over by a bus. And that is exactly what happened, I was hit by a bus. My great grandmother, Queen Isabella would roll over in her grave, if she still rested there. Without thinking, I jumped in front of the barreling vehicle to save old lady McArthur from being squashed into human jelly. An unthinkable infraction of our law, we were forbidden to help the peasants, not even their dead spirits, as our counterparts.
The public transportation in this city was atrocious; the driver never appeared to notice that frail blue haired lady. In the late afternoon gloom, she putzed along the crosswalk, pulling her little cart of groceries. He just sped ahead to make the green light. The shell shocked woman stood frozen in the intersection of Washington and Lincoln. What’s an angel to do but protect her? Although, I knew without a doubt, my actions would have been the same if not possessing such attributes, it was the human thing to do. The passing thought pressed a smile on my face.
Subduing the impulse to save every delicate mortal in danger was much easier now. I had developed a thick skin shielding my eyes to their torment… most of the time. However, this calamity came so unexpected; I had reacted without thought. Besides, dying was a thing I avoided, being racked by physical and emotional upheaval, ripped and jolted, the pain was unbearable. It wasn’t a thing to use for this purpose anyway. Every time it happened it took my body and soul longer and longer to reunite.
Pushing her out of the way, the big tank plowed me over. Screams and sickening thuds filled my exploding ears while I was pulverized into the foul smelling concrete.
For nearly four hours, I volleyed between this world and the next, as usual; my soul left my invincible body to heal. I woke up in the morgue. The nighttime attendant, would recover, so stoned on whatever he was smoking, the memory would linger as only a foggy nightmare.
“How do I look?” the life size Barbie popped out of the hall. Startled, I bit my lip holding a smile, attempting to hide the staggering look of overdone to her.
“I love that shade of eye shadow, turquoise isn’t it? And that dress, it's so pretty on you." I spread my compliments thickly. It was only a partial lie; she was attractive in her own way and held an overwhelming heart of joy. Another superhuman power that came in handy, reading the intentions of these ordinary people. It radiated around them like halos, warm and loving, or sick and corrupt. It was her lovely aura that held me.
We left, arm and arm, laughing in the carefree moment, waiting on the landing for the elevator. The bronze metal doors slowly parted and out limped Mrs. MacArthur.
She stopped, gasped, and dropped her purse. “Angie, I thought… I thought” she stammered. Looking at me with saucer eyes, she pounded the sign of the cross over her chest, three times, muttering saintly prayers. She knew there was something strange about me, she always did. Some of the more advanced populace still held this sight. I only gave her a hug with a peck on her withered cheek, picked up her purse and gently placed it on her shoulder. Waving, we scuttled into the closing doors.
“Thank you,” she released. Just a hoarse whisper from her pursed lips, yet I caught it and held it to me, happy she could live another day.
Jenna and I skipped like teenagers to the excitement of the mysteries that may lay ahead, the click of our heels on the sidewalk sounded out its melodious cadence. If I would put my finger on it, the reason for remaining on this earthly plane; this cherished gift of friendship, even for a short time in the abyss of loneliness.
Sure, I could join my family, still residing in their sequestered mountaintop Chateau, sitting in their royal status. Waiting for forgiveness, from the powers of the universe, they were dead, despite their regal blue blood pumping in their frigid hearts. I wanted more… simply to be content.
Perpetuating in their revolving love of each other, my parents languished in their overabundant wealth. Sadly they had become far removed from mankind, treating them with distaste and scorn.
It was from this suffocating materialistic temple I ran, to the new colonies of America in the quest for adventure and truth. It was a carefree imperfect life I craved, the intangible things money could not secure.
Jenna pulled out a picture from her purse, gazing at again. “What do you think?” she pushed the fuzzy picture in my face. “He has a strong jaw, don’t you agree?” She queried.
“Yes, very strong, and kind eyes,” I added, scanning his image, his chin was enveloped with the other three under it. But living as long as I have, looks are never the most important quality; it was the beauty of the soul that called me. “Plus, he has hair, and a job!” I teasingly interjected. The last two she dated were clean shaven, all over their egg shaped heads, and not one had a steady paycheck.
“It listed him as a Computer Software Engineer. Imagine that?” she clucked, walking faster. “I talked with him on the phone for over an hour. He seemed so warm and friendly, quick witted, had me laughing the whole time. I don’t know Angie; I fell in love with his voice immediately. We seemed to fit, like two pieces of a puzzle.” She dreamily sighed “Do you have any idea how that feels?”
“Sort of,” I muttered.
Still, existing through every era, there remained one truth that every person born longed – to find true love. This whimsical emotion, above all else, held the pulse of the universe. And yes, I had felt its fervor. I had met someone like that over four hundred years ago. Once we found each other, his miraculous soul came bursting through. He was goodness itself, as if a real flawless glorious angel.
I walked fast to keep up with Jenna’s anxious jog. She continued her chattering dialog, to my wayward ears while I reminisced.
It was a sad turn of events, a chance meeting, only spending such a short time with the amazing young man before the second round of death had grasped me. The new frontier in the early 1700’s did not hold such marvelous adventures as I believed - a savage world really. It was a fight every day just to avoid death again and again.
Akawad

, just the thought of his name sliced like a knife. He had held my heart, and then was gone, both of us slain to the musket of the white man. I had been brutally hunted as a witch and he a savage heathen. Just one kiss we shared, that perfect one embrace still haunted me. I could still feel it on my lips even after four hundred years. How I endured afterwards is still a mystery to me. It was during this time, my evilness flowed, his loss burned with an insurmountable rage within.
Surprising, what I had run from had followed, inside me. It took a long time to resurrect the embers of goodness in my soul.
Invariably the thoughts of the past always dredged up sludge so I pushed back the mud into that black barren hole.
Glancing around, in my peripheral vision, a dark mass moved, slithering behind the shops and alleys. Yep, still stalking. Concentrating, I attempted to sense his persona, but was met with a wall of emptiness. My parents must really be desperate to enlist the aid of one so cunning to shield his intent from me.
“Is there someone following us?” Jenna sounded apprehensive, clutching my arm close. Neither of us would dare walk these streets alone after the sun went down. Not from the terror of the unknown, more out of fear of the destitute, drug abusers and villains looking for a free handout. Just last week a girl was attacked and her purse stolen.
“Probably, who could resist two such lovely ladies as we to accost,” I tried to lighten her mood. “But just in case, let’s take a taxi home.”