DON'T WORRY I'M ALIVE!
I have yet again been awesomely lazy and deserve to eaten by an escalator- Yes, I saw the final destination IN 3D! and that was by far the most awesome death ever.
I know nobody really wants to hear about my life etc etc so I'll treat you to something I wrote a few weeks ago which is really just a completely random idea. I wasn't going to post it because it's so horrifically bad, but I'm just trying to distract you from the fact that I haven't typed up any more Soul Searching.
I have no idea for a plot or anything with this yet, it's simply a scene that came to my head, and it kind of fizzled out before i could properly finish it, so I hope it actually makes a bit of sense. I've given it a little title of Waiting for Angels- hence the title of this blog. If you like it let me know and maybe you'll get a little bit more ;)
The moon light trickled through the open window and the gauzy white curtains fluttered in the breeze. Leah waited for the angel.
Maybe tonight he’ll come. Please. He has to.
She was sitting cross legged on her bed, looking up to the big silver moon that gave the air around her a bluish tinge. Leah had only met the angel once before. She closed her eyes and remembered the gentle swoosh of wings as he came to land on her windowsill. Beautiful white feathers that shone against the midnight sky. His eyes were the colour of sunlight, set amongst flawless, angular features and framed by a halo of golden curls. He wore jeans and nothing else, an upgrade from the traditional white robe pictured in the paintings of long dead believers. His bare feet padded across the carpeted floor with the stealth of a cat as he came to where she sat on the bed, as she sat now.
Even if Leah had wanted to she couldn’t have moved as she melted under the angel’s gaze. His eyes never left hers, not for a moment. He moved with purpose, even with his huge wings folded tight against his back the tips of his feathers still brushed along the floor behind him.
The angel stood over her so she had to crane her head to keep his gaze, he looked down at her, taking in every inch of her bewildered expression, her flyaway mane of white blond hair, the big white T-shirt she wore to bed that left an indecent amount of leg on display. He took her hand, gently, and her skin had the feeling of being bathed in evening sunlight under his touch.
Leah found herself standing as great white wings enclosed her. Something cold was pressed into her hand and she curled her fingers around it, unable to tear her gaze away to see what it was. He looked at her a few seconds longer and then bent down as if to kiss her, with his mouth at her ear he whispered so softly the words sounded as if they had been carried by the breeze.
“Safe, Leah.”
And then he was gone. Leah shivered with the sudden lack of his feathery embrace, feeling the bite of the night breeze as she was released from his spell. She climbed back into bed, too tired to stand any longer, and began to drift, all the time with the Angels gift clutch tightly in her palm, like an unopened present.
The next morning Leah awoke to the sound of birdsong through her open window, and dreamlike memories of feathers and sunlight. A sight escaped her lips.
It’s always a dream.
Leah rolled over to face the window which was streaming morning sunlight and a soft glinting caught her eye. Her arm was sprawled across the pillow next to her head; the glinting came from something enclosed in her clenched fist. Slowly, she opened her stiff fingers like a flower unfurled its petals. Twined around her fingers was a slim silver chain, and hanging from the chain a silver pendant. A feather, so detailed that when she touched it she almost expected to feel the softness beneath her fingertips. Her mind travelled back to the depths of the night before and she stumbled towards the window, the muscles in her legs still relaxed from sleep.
Something fluttered, caught in the window frame. A white feather, a real one this time. As Leah carefully dislodged it she could almost hear the rustle of wings. She closed her eyes and stroked the softness of the feather across her cheek, basking in the warmth of the morning sun.
That was no dream.
She turned and swept her hair over her shoulder, clasping the chain around her neck.
Safe, Leah.
Maybe tonight he’ll come. Please. He has to.
She was sitting cross legged on her bed, looking up to the big silver moon that gave the air around her a bluish tinge. Leah had only met the angel once before. She closed her eyes and remembered the gentle swoosh of wings as he came to land on her windowsill. Beautiful white feathers that shone against the midnight sky. His eyes were the colour of sunlight, set amongst flawless, angular features and framed by a halo of golden curls. He wore jeans and nothing else, an upgrade from the traditional white robe pictured in the paintings of long dead believers. His bare feet padded across the carpeted floor with the stealth of a cat as he came to where she sat on the bed, as she sat now.
Even if Leah had wanted to she couldn’t have moved as she melted under the angel’s gaze. His eyes never left hers, not for a moment. He moved with purpose, even with his huge wings folded tight against his back the tips of his feathers still brushed along the floor behind him.
The angel stood over her so she had to crane her head to keep his gaze, he looked down at her, taking in every inch of her bewildered expression, her flyaway mane of white blond hair, the big white T-shirt she wore to bed that left an indecent amount of leg on display. He took her hand, gently, and her skin had the feeling of being bathed in evening sunlight under his touch.
Leah found herself standing as great white wings enclosed her. Something cold was pressed into her hand and she curled her fingers around it, unable to tear her gaze away to see what it was. He looked at her a few seconds longer and then bent down as if to kiss her, with his mouth at her ear he whispered so softly the words sounded as if they had been carried by the breeze.
“Safe, Leah.”
And then he was gone. Leah shivered with the sudden lack of his feathery embrace, feeling the bite of the night breeze as she was released from his spell. She climbed back into bed, too tired to stand any longer, and began to drift, all the time with the Angels gift clutch tightly in her palm, like an unopened present.
The next morning Leah awoke to the sound of birdsong through her open window, and dreamlike memories of feathers and sunlight. A sight escaped her lips.
It’s always a dream.
Leah rolled over to face the window which was streaming morning sunlight and a soft glinting caught her eye. Her arm was sprawled across the pillow next to her head; the glinting came from something enclosed in her clenched fist. Slowly, she opened her stiff fingers like a flower unfurled its petals. Twined around her fingers was a slim silver chain, and hanging from the chain a silver pendant. A feather, so detailed that when she touched it she almost expected to feel the softness beneath her fingertips. Her mind travelled back to the depths of the night before and she stumbled towards the window, the muscles in her legs still relaxed from sleep.
Something fluttered, caught in the window frame. A white feather, a real one this time. As Leah carefully dislodged it she could almost hear the rustle of wings. She closed her eyes and stroked the softness of the feather across her cheek, basking in the warmth of the morning sun.
That was no dream.
She turned and swept her hair over her shoulder, clasping the chain around her neck.
Safe, Leah.
The words echoed through her head.
You can tell from this how much difference a second draft makes. :/
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