untitled; part 10

It’s finally here, eh? My deepest apologies, as Madame Michaelis was… busy.

-

Jared was surprised that Annaleigh Webster would want to dance with him. She excused herself to go to the restroom after the first song, and a lady in red took her place. It was when he had taken a few steps did Jared realize the problem.

            “Holy Jesus!” Everyone around him scowled at his choice of swear words, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fixated on the red lady, who was anything but a woman. His hair was so fiery red that Jared’s eyes watered just by looking at it. The man was dressed in a similar style like Sebastian, except that he failed to carry off the flair like he did.

            “Oh, aren’t you the most wonderful dancer tonight!” the red haired guy practically sang as he took Jared’s hand, which Jared felt his eyebrows shooting up into his hair and into oblivion.

            “I-I beg your pardon sir?”

            “Do dance with me! I have yet to find a lady partner who is just as charming as you.” Much to his aghast, he smiled widely at him. He must have too much to drink.

            Jared meant to say just that when a familiar man rapped the other’s head smartly with his knuckles. He came into view, and Jared recognized him immediately.

            “I have had enough of your behavior for one night, Grell Sutcliff. This certainly won’t do,” the man snapped, his heavy rimmed glasses flashing. Grell? That name was oddly familiar.

            “You’re William, isn’t it?”  It was impossible to forget a guy who magically appeared in your house at night. And the name Grell was nagging at the bottom of his head. It sounded familiar but at the same time it was lost on him.

this serendipity; waking up

The smell of blood was a thick haze. It was in my mouth, my lungs. My breath was ragged and slow. The pain that was so sharp before had now dulled to a dull throbbing.

I closed my eyes and willed it to go away. My body was oddly weightless; I floated as if I consisted of mere dust. The metallic scent was unendurable; it weakened whatever resolve I have left to survive, and it burned. My body was on fire. I was going to Hell.

My eyes flew open as I gasped at the empty ceiling. It was nearing winter, and the weather had a good excuse to be frigid. I guess in my state I had a reasonable defense for actually sweating like it was summer.

I flinched as I felt movement apart from mine-and relaxed when Sebastian came into view. Climbing into my bed fully dressed, he pulled me close. His temperature was always the same-chilly, yet it served as the perfect antidote.

“You had a nightmare.” He ran his fingers through my bedraggled hair.

“It was nothing.” I sighed. “I dreamt of… the full moon.”

“Ah.” Of course he understood.

I looked up at him. His eyes were deep maroon again beneath those impossibly long eyelashes. Sebastian enjoyed silence, so I rested against his shoulder wordlessly. The winter sunlight illuminated his skin in a grayish hue, unlike his usual pale, fair complexion. It was a striking contrast against his black assemble he always wore. I wondered if I looked like that as well.

“We shouldn’t stay indoors with such a wonderful climate awaiting us outside,” He grinned at me. “Let’s head downstairs.”

“Alright.” I managed a light smile. How can anyone resist his charm is quite beyond me.

Sebastian was remarkably good at housekeeping. I didn’t need to tell him that he would make a perfect house husband. Today he’d brewed strawberry black tea, one that I preferred on cold mornings. Needless to say, he understood me very well.

“You are almost like an open book,” Sebastian chuckled once. “‘Almost’ because you are a very easy person to know, and yet you possess an air of obscurity about you.

I sipped my tea and glanced at him. Sebastian never ate, nor did he drank anything I’d heard of. I was astounded at first, but then I slowly began to apprehend him as well. He watched me with an undying concentration I will never have. I stared back at him.

“I’m sorry-I didn’t know it irked you.”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” I was quite surprised. “I was just curious.”

Sebastian was perhaps, the most cryptic character I’ve ever met to date. His actions always raises questions, although not all of them are answered. And I am always afraid of angering him; who knows just how frightening his temper may be. Still, he proved himself to be able to keep a cool head even through the most stressful circumstances.

Sebastian smiled that perfect, mysterious smile of his and took my hand in his. It was obvious that Sebastian cared for me-if that was the correct word. But he refrained from using any words that sound schmaltzy in normal conversation. That was good; I can live with that.

I felt a small nudge somewhere around my knees. I knew that soft sensation very well.

“Emmy!” I picked up the moderately huge black cat and cradled her in my arms. My father had given me the kitten a few birthdays ago, and we were both smitten by her winning charm. He named her Emmy, what appeared to be a shortened form of my name. Emmy had kept me company while Daddy was away, and now she humored Sebastian as well. I had feared that Sebastian wasn’t a cat person, but it seemed that he is the cat person. The way he played with her!

She purred in evident contentment and flicked her tail around playfully as I ran my hand across her sable black fur. She eyed Sebastian and turned her green eyes on me expectantly.

“She likes you,” I laughed, handing her over to Sebastian. He embraced the cat with both arms and scratched the back of her ears. Emmy purred again and rested her head on his knee.

“Or maybe,” Sebastian smiled while he tickled Emmy, “She is just envious that I lavish more attention on you than her.”

“Haha.” I took another sip of tea.

Emmy perked up her ears at a sound well beyond my human hearing capacity. Sebastian heard it as well. He promptly set Emmy back on my lap and rose to his feet, straightening his already crisp suit.

“Your father is here. I will get him.” And he was gone, leaving me to prepare myself for our first rendezvous in two years. My father was always more loose on everything, behavior, dressing, everything. He wanted me to truly enjoy life than being bound to certain wards. He felt that they kept me from really experiencing joy. He didn’t mind that I climbed trees. My hands tightened on the lightly colored skirt of my dress. Those were happy memories. Once.

“Emma.” My father’s voice greeted me at the doorway. I felt a rush of nostalgia and happiness as I rushed forward, running into his arms like I was young again.

“My daughter,” he laughed after taking a good look at me. Sebastian hovered in the background like a silent sentinel. “You have grown. Thinner, in fact.” At that, Sebastian raised his head slightly.

We made our way back to the table. Emmy mewed at her old master’s arrival, and sprang towards my father with the same jovial frolic she had while she was a kitten. He patted her affectionately.

“And my dear Emmy grew bigger as well! It seems that we have a lot to catch up on.”

My father gave Sebastian a sideway glance.

“This young man introduces himself as your butler. I say,” he added looking back at me, frowning slightly, “Isn’t he too young to have such a career choice? I mean, not that I’m underestimating his handiwork-the house is in top condition-but it’s such a waste if he decides to spend his life as one.”

I decided to smooth over that sticky moment by taking the teapot to pour tea for my father. My hands trembled slightly under the weight of the teapot, and Sebastian beat me to it by taking it from me, pouring a cup effortlessly.

“It is my choice, Sir. I have been a servant as long as I remembered, and now I certainly cannot imagine myself doing anything else apart from what I’m good at.” he addressed my father with such politeness that I could tell that he definitely redeemed himself in Daddy’s eyes. As long as he doesn’t ask for an official resume.

My dad took a mouthful of tea and licked his lips at the full-flavoredness of it. “This is excellent tea. May I know your name, young man?”

A courteous bow. “My name is Sebastian, and I serve none but Emmanuelle Rose Meyer.”

I cringed inwardly. Surely he needn’t add that much of flowery speech to his sentence.

My father turned to me. “Spectacular, accomplished. And Sebastian manages the entire house in spotless order by himself?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Sebastian and I exchanged grins on our private joke.

“I have indeed done an injustice to you,” my father declared to Sebastian. “Surely someone as skilled as you have a unique approach in carrying out your daily duties? Emma is truly fortunate to have someone like you beside her.”

Sebastian offered another bow just as low as the first.

“I assure you that I have none, Master Meyer. I’m all but… a butler.”

this serendipity; saving grace

First and foremost, I’m going to give a brief explanation to this new story.

• Beautiful Disaster is discontinued. 
• Two characters from B.D. have been taken and used for this current story.
• This new story has no relation whatsoever to B.D.
• Rest assured, there’s no Heroes here. (: 
• The story is still untitled; that’s just the chapter. So if anyone has a title suggestion, please feel free to leave a comment!
• As usual, read and comment. (: 

this serendipity; saving grace

“Stop!” 

My outburst was not enough to make him halt, however. He had lunged at the man with unerring speed and clenched his neck in a chokehold, pinning him up against the wall. The man let out a high-pitched gasp while his legs flailed helplessly above the ground. He beat vigorously at the arm that gripped him tightly, but to no avail. 

“Please, let him go!” My words were near hysterical. In all my life I’ve never been faced with such a scene. I had never prepared myself, nor contemplate what would I do next if… this happens. Someone was going to die in front of me, and I’m afraid that I will live with it for as long as I’m alive. 

The man was clearly at his breaking point. 

“Yes, release me I beg you-I swear I will never lay a hand on you both ever again!” He muttered fervently, at the same time trying to pry free the fingers curled rigidly around his throat. It was a miracle that he could still spit out his words to form a perfect sentence, but then if under harassment, one could achieve anything. I should know that-I’ve been there.

I ran forward to pull the arm back, but my rescuer’s free arm cut me short. 

“We could just let him go-he can keep this a secret.” 

The desperate man nodded eagerly as I tried my best at persuading, egging on my conversation. Buying his time. 

“Why should I put my trust in someone like him?” His voice betrayed no signs of anger; it was a wave of relative calm as if he had done nothing more than discuss business. But I felt every bit of venom and disgust in every enunciation. 

“Sebastian-” 

“Emma,” He smiled in my direction, a picture of breathtaking splendor. “Let me handle this.” It was remarkable how stunning he looked, yet he was capable of committing murder while keeping his perfection in check. So referring to him as an angel was way off the mark.

“I’ll do anything!” the man cried out wretchedly, clutching at any strings that may save him. “I’m in your debt. If it’s money you want-I’ll pay you, just state the sum. I’ll forget who you are, and I’ll leave.” 

Sebastian’s deep maroon eyes were highly amused, as if this were a game he found interesting. His laughter rang quietly around the empty yard. My heart thudded roughly against my ribcage as I attempted to keep myself steady. 

“That is the mark of a human. You foolishly think that you people can solve things with money? I’m sorely dissatisfied.” 

The man was losing time. He coughed, choked and gurgled in such a way that I actually felt pity for him. Tears streamed down his face as he went from pleading to paltry. With considerable effort, he managed to look Sebastian in the eye, a feat which I was personally awed that he could do it at all. Apart from me, that is.

“I-I’ve a wife and two daughters, sir-I mean, Sebastian.” He stumbled over his name. “They are waiting for me to come home to them.” 

I looked at Sebastian. He seemed to be in a pensive state, weighing his options I suppose. One will never fully guess what he was thinking about. 

“We needn’t kill him.” 

I could hear his anguished sobs in the background.

“Please,” he whimpered. 

Sebastian’s eyes rested on his. His impassive face softened. The only sound was our breathing, magnified tenfold. Then, his lips parted into a smiled that was radiant enough to part the clouds, in my opinion. 

I didn’t even see him move his fingers, but I was certain that he did, to break his victim’s neck. The man hadn’t had time to protest, or yell-the reflex reaction. He immediately fell limp. I let out a panicked gasp too late, and shielded my face from the man’s glassy eyes that gape out from his face.

Sebastian threw him to the ground unceremoniously. From behind my fingers, I heard the grisly thud of the corpse. And I felt his gloved fingers gently prying my hands from my face. 

“You killed him!” I wasn’t sure how I sounded-probably breathless and stupefied. But my words were coherent, at least. The dead man’s face swam before my eyes, and I shuddered. 

“He deserves it,” Sebastian remarked bluntly. I looked at him, and noticed his vermillion eyes. It was always the same hue of red, even on our first meeting. I will never forget that color. It drew me in like flowers would a bee, hypnotic and enigmatic. But his expression softened at my horrified face. He shrugged off his coat and slid it around my shoulders. He knelt down and studied my reaction. I was doing my best to rein back my tears. 

“People like him are not qualified to live in this world. I simply sent him to where he truly belonged. Come,” he pulled me to my feet, “You are cold. We ought to return home.” 

I averted my gaze from the body as we left the dingy alley. I felt his wooden gaze following us all the way from where he lay, motionless forever while his soul begins the treacherous journey to Hell, where souls will pay for their sins by enduring an eternal servitude of endless agony. I wondered what was it like there. Hot? Harrowing? The books I’ve read probably wasn’t ample enough to describe…there.

I had my nightmares awake that night.

Beautiful Disaster; Part 7

But, before that, let me just post a quiz result here:

Super corny, but frankly, it’s a better way to die than being tortured to death right?

I decided to take my time in uploading this, because not-rushing it would be better, I guess. (:

Anyway, as the title suggests.

-

Angela Petrelli couldn’t help but feel anxious. She forced herself to remain in a state of calm. It wasn’t the first time she was meeting them, yet she always felt the unmistakable sensation of fear.

The two people approached her with footsteps that echoed in the dark. The shorter of the two spoke first.

“Robert’s been dealt with; I’m quite sure the press made that a clear statement.” He was smoking a cigar. The lazy fumes drifted slowly into the already humid air; the smell of the smoke was thick with anticipation. 

“He knows too much. He knows about you as well. It is only reasonable that he was silenced.” Angela regarded the two with an unreadable look. “Surely you don’t want to be exposed.”

“We like it this way,” the short man said, exhaling a clump of smoke, “But then you said that your sources tell you that there’s something else that we should take heed of.”

“Indeed. Even I don’t know what it is. Vague, but you better take my word for it.” 

The man coughed. “While finishing that fool Peterson, Hei didn’t kill a woman who saw the entire thing.”

Angela snapped up. “Well, did she see his face?”

“She better damn not! Even if she did, she got away unscathed,” he growled. The tall man next to him said nothing as he snapped at him, “Hei you idiot, I’d tell you to kill any witnesses! To think of the consequences if she reports this to the police!” 

“She wasn’t a threat,” the man named Hei murmured. “I made sure of that.”

“Stop going around with your I-trust-my-instincts-stuff,” the smoker muttered, “One day you will find that they cannot be trusted.” 

“I did not meet up just to listen to your bickering,” Angela snapped, her old demeanor returning gradually. “the matters regarding the Company must be protected. I would want to know if you are keen on this assignment. It’s a long running one, so… I understand if you want to back out.” 

“I already said that we’re in,” the short man stubbed out his cigarette. “What about you, Hei?” 

Hei’s face was unreadable. His long, unkempt fringe fell over his heavily hooded eyes, giving him a permanently sleepy expression. But his black eyes were as bright as a clear sky. 

“We will join your Company.” 

“Good.” Angela nodded. “You will follow me back to Odessa first. There is someone I need you to meet.”

“You go, Huang,” Hei murmured to his acquaintance. “I want to stay and keep in touch with things here.”

Huang stared. “What? Me, alone?” Then his eyes narrowed. “I told you that you ought to finish off that woman that night. Now you’re hesitating! Just kill her, for God’s sake, you’ve been doing it all your life!”

“She’s special. I know it.” Hei looked up into the sky. It was void of stars, like the very night he saw her. Her eyes were as bright as the stars, and a different story was reflected in her shadowy pupils. Her terrified stare, her rapid breath as he was about to murder her, to rip her soul ruthlessly from her body… Is this what his victims see and react when they are about to die? His fists tightly into balls.

“Don’t tell me your conscience is creeping up with you again.” Huang sounded almost exasperated.

“You need not kill her.” Angela’s voice broke their conversation. “Just keep a good eye on her. But if she’s really gifted and also smart enough, she will know that it’s wiser to leave us be.”

Hei glanced up at the sky again. He wished he was up in his apartment with his telescope.

“Perhaps.” 

-

Emma woke to the drowsiness of daybreak. The rain from last night still lingered in the air. She yanked the bedcovers over her head and nestled deeper into the folds of her bed. 

Was it a Saturday? She reached out of the blanket and felt her way blindly to her bed stand. When she was affirmative that her hand was firmly around her calendar, she pulled it under and looked at the date.

It was a Saturday. She closed her eyes. The familiar sensation of the fever was seeping into her slowly. She felt frigid, even though she had enlisted the help of her blanket, comforter and what not. On a normal day, she would be melting under the covers. Today was one of those days. She suppressed a shiver. 

Her thoughts drifted towards Sebastian, and what he had said. Was she not human anymore? Her eyes had that searing effect, even in the mirror at her own reflection. So how could she possibly still be sick? 

As if on cue, a hand laid itself on her forehead. Her eyes opened and she immediately recoiled from the sitting form of Sebastian.

“I have to get a restraining order against you.” She wrapped the covers defensively around herself.

Sebastian smiled, his gorgeous features lit up with the simple gesture. His eyes were a deep maroon red. 

“In that way, I wouldn’t be able to show you to your new life.” He sighed. “I have been eluding from you the truth for so long, but it seems that I must spill the beans.” 

She sat up, but at the heavy throb of her head, she sank back onto her bed. Without moving an inch, he somehow managed to conjure a glass of water from nowhere. He handed it to her.

“Drink, and I’ll talk.”

“If I’m not human, then why am I sick?” she blurted out.

 He raised one eyebrow, still managing that perfect look all the same. “Drink, or your fever will not subside.” 

She took a mouthful obediently. 

“You see,” He murmured, “I have never done this before-I mean saving you. So even I myself have just as many uncertainties. But-” his eyes gleamed with a strange excitement, “-you will have… abilities. Though I am not sure what yet. That, I am very interested in seeing. Apart from that, you can do most of what I can do, which we can take that for a test run soon.”

Emma drank half of her glass and set it aside. “So what you’re trying to say is, that you have turned me into… something else?”

“Not just something else…” he allowed himself a small laugh. “Because demons don’t fall sick, at all.”

There was a hanging silence at his words. Emma tried to unstick the words that seemed to have congealed at her throat.

“I am a WHAT? So is that really what you are?” She originally intended to jump out of bed, but her strength wouldn’t permit her; she turned on her right ankle and leaned too much towards her right. Sebastian caught her with ease and set her back on the bed. She continued to gape at him, at a total loss for words.

“I am a demon.” he dropped his eyes down to the floor as if to imply he really did came from Hell. “And yes, I roam amongst humans. And what I did to you… I have made you one as well. Actually, a small part of human still resides within you; you will still retain your human characteristics… at least most of them. You can imagine, I have been living since the Victorian era. Boredom is one part of walking through time.”

“So exorcists will come and kill us now?” She can’t decide whether did she prefer to die on that day or being saved as a demon. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

“Very funny.” He grinned, white teeth gleaming. “There are no exorcists that are so hard-pressed into hunting demons nowadays. Even if there are, they are not known as exorcists any longer.”

Emma frowned. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means,” Sebastian ignored her wary look as he slid a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “I’m not the only dangerous person out there. The city is filled with strange people, apart from you and me.” 

She looked towards the balcony. People with abilities. So much for stranger than fiction. It certainly was now. Another glance at the clock told her that it was supposedly time to get a move on. The day was moving by, whether she wanted it or not. She leapt out of bed again, and felt her body betraying her again.

“Why are you so adamant?” Sebastian sounded amused when he wrapped his arm around her waist with the uncanny grace of a dancer. “But tonight, we will have our share of fun.”

She felt a chill, whether it was his arms around her or the fact that the night excursion didn’t sound so good, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was both.

“What are we going to do?”

He smiled that blinding smile. “You will find out.”

Beautiful Disaster; Part 6

“Matt, there’s something I need to tell you.” A small voice chipped up by the doorway. 

Matt knew who it was, and turned down the volume of the television. He turned in his sofa. A young girl with long straight hair lingered uncertainly by the corner. She shuffled her pink slippered feet and looked extremely nervous. But at the sight of Matt, she went forward and hugged him tightly.

“What’s wrong, Molly?” He stroked her hair. He had a small hunch on what it might be. Molly was a strong, tough girl for her young age. She was incredibly mature to be only thirteen, and it had everything to do with her ability to track people-simply by thinking about them. She often dreams, and they were full of possible predictions of the future. Matt knew enough to take her seriously now. And besides, they have no more secrets between them.

Molly shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to say it out. Why not you read my mind, like you do to others?”

Matt sighed. “I don’t want to pry into people’s heads, Molly. You need to tell me yourself. It will make you feel better if you do.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been having the same dream over again. I see a bird in my dream. It was attacking me. I couldn’t run; it dived at my face, and I woke up.”

He cradled her in his arms. Molly had taken the loss of her parents in her stride. She no longer brooded over their absence. Matt was impressed with her quiet way of moving on with life, something he had yet to perfect.

“Don’t worry, we will figure this out. Peter and I will.” His eyes strayed to the paper, the headlines marked in bold. 

Crime boss murdered in dark alleyway-police suspect foul play 

Peter had gone to find Elle Bishop, a woman with the uncanny power of electric manipulation. Robert Peterson had died of an electric shock, and Elle was known to knock off people whom she resented. She used her power whenever she wanted, but she wasn’t sloppy, and she was good in covering up her tracks. But people like her, Matt for instance, know when someone “special” is involved. Peter had yet to call with a reply, so Matt guessed that he was probably trying to talk with Elle. 

“I’m scared, Matt.” Her voice trembled. “Someone’s here, and I can sense the danger.” 

“I’ll let Peter know about this. Do you know how this person looks like, at all?”

“No. Every time I see that bird.”

“What kind of bird?”

“… I don’t know. It’s black, and it has a high, keening cry.”

Matt didn’t tell her that there were various possibilities of birds that fit that description. He however, whipped out his cellphone and dialed a number on speed dial. He waited until the call went into voice mail.

“Petrelli, this is Parkman. Molly’s having dreams again. I need to talk. Call me when you’re done with Elle.” He hung up. 

Molly said nothing more. She made herself comfortable on the sofa next to him. 

“I’ll protect you, Molly. We will find out about this.” After all these years of being a cop, his voice wasn’t so sure now.

-

Nessa’s eyes fell on the paper. The headlines conformed her fears. The man she saw by the street was dead. Crime lord or not, he was killed before her eyes. And the chilling encounter with his killer sent shivers down her neck. She was so sure that she was going to die. The unknown assailant was still loose in the streets, and that was getting to her. What if he decided that she was a threat and chose to finish her off? Her grip tightened on the plates she was supposed to be carrying back to the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Kate’s voice drifted over. She was genuinely concerned, unlike her other nosy colleagues who like to gossip in their free time about anything in general. Nessa didn’t really need this waitress job; she was doing well as a freelance photographer as well as illustrator. Her work often appeared in magazines and she is currently setting up her third exhibition at the main gallery in the city. But she knew that everyone has a humble beginning, and she definitely didn’t forget hers. She wanted herself to know that. She looked at Kate.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” She smiled, and Nessa felt the warm wave of emotions that flood over her as she spoke. She knew that her friend meant well, and it was more than a hunch or close bond. Since young, she had been particularly sensitive to people around her. She had a feeling that someone is lying through their words, and she was always right. 

Lately, her senses were always on red alert and perhaps the reason lies in the encounter that night. Although she was willing to forget it and move on, a part of her was curious to know about this mysterious vigilante and the truth behind it. It will need some digging in the dirt.

Time to get out her shovel.
-

Emma walked as fast as her legs permitted her to. The rain gave her a total wash-through as she tried desperately to cover her already-soaked head. She really needed an umbrella, but it seems that its purpose didn’t shine through until now. She ran up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring the stares of its other occupants.

Everyone gave her a wide berth in the elevator. She walked out gratefully, leaving a trail of water all the way to her home. After a bit of rummaging around in her drenched bag, she wiped the slippery key ring on her jeans and slid a key into the doorknob. 

Her apartment was quiet, untouched. She sighed to herself, and shook off her wet coat. She made a mental note to drag all her laundry to the dry cleaners later. A glimpse of herself in the mirror was quite shocking. She looked like a cat who fell into the washer with her dank hair, plastered to her face.

“I look like a corpse,” she said out loud.

“Hmm, maybe,” Sebastian’s voice drifted over. He was standing on the far side of the living room, perfectly coiffed and dry. She realized that she was dripping on her own floor, and she balked.

He swiftly handed her a towel.

“Erm, thanks. But I need to bath anyway.” A clap of thunder roared, followed by a streak of lightning. She fought back a yell and planted both hands over her ears. The sound reverberated around the room; she felt her body seize up and and her feet turning numb. 

“Are you…” he cocked his head slightly. “Afraid?”

“No,” she answered, too quickly, to stem the flow of fear and also the truth that threatened to spill out from her mouth. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

She wanted to ask why was he kipping at her place, but she thought that she’d leave that question for later. Emma half-ran to the bathroom. Another explosion tore through the wet air, and she nearly tripped in her frantic attempt to seek refuge. The bathroom floor was cool and dry; she hadn’t used it all day. Emma reached towards the handle and turned on the shower. The familiar sound of water splashing against the linoleum eased her a little. She took in deep breaths, and stepped under the shower, fully clothed. It didn’t matter; she was already wet.

You have to get over this, she told herself determinedly. It’s a thing of the past, and you have moved on.

There was another shriek from above, followed by a blinding flash of lightning that briefly illuminated the entire space. The roar sounded like the angry scream of a dragon; it’s wrath was every bit as terrible as the weather. 

She covered her ears and screamed. She saw brief flashes of it. Her nightmare. It filled her eyes, it choked her, and left her gasping for air. 

“No, don’t kill them! Let them be!” 

“Emma? Emma, are you with me?” She heard Sebastian’s urgent voice somewhere nearby. 

“It was so loud…” she felt tears streaming down with the water. “So blinding.” 

Sebastian didn’t speak. His face was unreadable. His hair was also soaked; he had stepped into the shower. 

“Go away.” She managed it out in a voice too high unlike her own. 

“You’re not okay,” he said curtly. “Something is-”

His words were drowned by another loud roar. Emma kept her hands firmly on her ears, but she was now crying in earnest. 

The rain splashed noisily against the windows. Sebastian settled himself down on the wet floor next to her.

“The thunder can’t harm us,” he whispered, “It should fear us instead.” 

She felt him pry her hands away from her face. 

“Now,” he murmured, “Let’s just… rest.” 

She had a strong urge to refuse, to hesitate, but at the sound of those words, she did feel tired. The aftereffects of battling her way home through the storm was starting to surface.

Sebastian sang a strange, quiet lullaby, and she fell into the sleep she so deserved.

Beautiful Disaster; Part 5

She set the new books down on a trolley. The store room was stuffy, humid, and oddly claustrophobic. The dust motes were her constant companion, and they made her sneeze. 

Emma. She thought her name to herself. How strange. Her resurrection had brought about a wave of amnesia, which was thankfully temporary. She didn’t want to be nameless, yet she shied away from the name Sebastian gave her. Serafina. The name send shivers down her spine. It sounded powerful, confident, everything that she wasn’t, and she knew that she will not be able to carry that name with suitable composure. 

She loaded more books onto the trolley. Her job at the small bookshop wasn’t paying that well, but it was comforting to get some pay once a month. It sufficed to let her live herself by. Her other job as a part-time artist was also moderately successful; she was busy from time to time, but never too busy. That was good. She stacked them neatly, prodding back the oddly arranged books. Her elbow knocked the topmost book to the floor. It fell with a muffle thud, sending a cloud of dust wafting into the air. She raised her arm to avoid inhaling the particles and stooped to pick it up. The book was no longer there. Emma squinted.

Sebastian was dimly visible through the fog-like dust. A scream rose in her throat, but she had barely gotten it out when he’d clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Um, is something wrong, Emma?” one of the staff, Joe’s voice carried past the door.

Emma pulled his hand away and called back.

“Just a lizard!” She stared furiously at Sebastian.

“What the hell are you doing in here? It’s more than my job’s worth if my boss catches you in this room, with me! What will the staff think?” 

“Calm down, you’re going to attract attention,” Sebastian said breezily, as if they were seated at a proper place, rather than a cramped room. “I just wanted to check on you.” 

“Not now,” she gritted her teeth, picking up the checklist of books and examining it. “Saving my life doesn’t give you the consent to follow me around.” 

“Really?” His red eyes were iridescent under the lights. His smile was blinding. 

She sighed. “Just don’t give me a heart attack.” She ticked a few books off her list. 

“You are working.” His voice didn’t sound like a question. Instead, he sat down on one of the boxes and proceeded to survey her, like a specimen under observation. Emma stared.

“And is that illegal?”

“No,” he murmured, “Human life is so tedious to fall into.” 

She didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. “I’ve been there.” 

Sebastian watched her work in silence, his eyes taking in the book list, and the numerous volumes she had stacked up on the trolley. 

“You haven’t told me what you are.” she looked at him. 

“That…” his lip curled. “Is something you may not want to know. But… if you are really so curious, I wouldn’t mind sharing with you, since we’re almost of the same kin now.” 

Emma gulped. “I suppose that can work too.”

Sebastian raised his head abruptly. “Someone is coming to check on you. Perhaps we ought to save this conversation for another day.” He stood up. “But before I leave, be careful.”

“Be careful of what?” she demanded, but he melted into the shadows, and presumably, disappeared. 

Merely seconds after that, the door swung open. Joe stuck his head in. 

“Were you talking to someone?” he sounded wary, concern that his co-worker was probably losing her marbles after spending too much time in the store room. “Do you want to switch?” 

“It’s okay, my time here is almost finished.” Emma rounded off the last few books on her list. She folded the paper and slid it into her pocket. Joe helped her push the trolley out of the room. Emma glanced back, a reflex movement to see if she had left anything behind. Her heart missed a beat as she alone saw Sebastian standing behind the shelves, his eyes more pronounced than ever. 

-

“The killing of Robert Peterson is not a coincidence. He has many enemies.” 

“Naturally, you suspect me.” 

“I’m not saying-” 

A burst of electricity fired across the room; it struck the walls, sending a small tremor through the room. The lights flickered rapidly for a moment before it stopped. Bits of alabaster fell from the ceiling. 

“Would you keep your temper?” the male speaker snapped irritatingly. “If you keep exploding out like that then everyone would suspect you.”

“How could I be calm when you’re pointing the finger at me? He died of electrocution, for goodness’ sake!” the other speaker was female, and she flicked her blonde hair angrily. Her blue eyes were steely with anger. She sat down, breathing heavily. She deftly avoided the man’s gaze.

“Look, we can investigate this and figure this out. We’re still unsure if that’s really his power.”

She glared. 

“I’d like to meet the killer in person. I can do him a favor.” Her hands twisted together in a fluid motion.

“We’re not doing it alone.” He stood up and paced the room. “Parkman can help us. He’s on the case.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Peter.” she drummed her fingers across the tabletop. “Even I know he is dangerous, and I’ve only heard of him through the newspaper.”

The man named Peter stared. “How’d you know that this person could be a guy?”

She shrugged. “I know by instinct.”

“Well, you have the same abilities as this killer, and you are a girl.” Peter sighed. “I can’t rule that out.” 

“Whatever.” She got up as well. “How do you propose we track this electric-bender?” 

Peter smiled grimly. “The same way how we always do our thing.”

Beautiful Disaster; part 4

Nessa was shaking. Not because of nerves, but the steely gaze of the patron that pierced her innards like frozen knives. The intensity of it was unnerving. He was looking at the woman opposite him, but as she approached, he allowed his eyes to drift slight towards her. And it was like being shot. She sat down the dish she was supposed to serve, and hastily backed towards the kitchen. When she was safely behind the thick doors, she smoothened her uniform and tried her best to reassemble her face. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Kate, her chirpy colleague danced past the swinging doors just as another waiter vanished through them.

“Nothing.” She looked at the chefs preparing the dishes. 

“Oh, come on, I’ve got something to show you.” She tossed her blonde hair back and yanked her out of the doors. She refused to release her until they were behind a pillar. She jerked her head towards the same guest whose penetrating eyes had bore into her earlier. 

“Is he just gorgeous? Marie was just hyperventilating back there.” she grinned. “Except the fact that he’s going out with someone.” She sniffed at that.

“I thought we don’t normally butt into other peoples’ relationships while at work?” She tore her gaze away from them. The woman seemed uncertain and confused; she often wore a look of surprise on her face, if not, sweeping her hair back. There was something strange about her too. Nessa sighed.

A low, sultry voice reached their ears. On the small podium, a pretty brunette played the piano while belting out a slow number to serenade the guests. She was radiant under the lights. The music soared beautifully in the atmosphere. Nessa didn’t say anything more, and neither did Kate; they had orders to carry out. The crowded night kept them both busy, and she was grateful. She kept a wide berth from that man with the unsettling stare.

After work, she stayed behind to clear up and left when her colleagues locked the place down. They offered her a ride back, but she turned it down politely. She didn’t want to get too dependent on her friends. Clutching her messenger bag, Nessa walked down the quiet walkway. Her apartment was just a couple of blocks away. It was a night that was void of stars; the clouds blotted out the sky like cotton candy. She shivered as the frigid wind blew past.

Also, there was a sense of unease in the air. She watched a well-dressed man from the corner of the street. He took a long drag from his cigarette and dumped it on the sidewalk. He squashed out the flame carelessly; the lighted tip burned on, and walked slowly ahead. He seemed too finely suited for this place. She urged her boots to keep on walking, trying to fall into the lyrics of the song playing on her iPod. 

There was a shout ahead that carried all the way in her direction. She froze. The man ahead had vanished. She could hear murmurs. One was talking rapidly, anxiously. The other spoke so low that all she heard was a dull muttering. She continued walking. Gang bangers were everywhere in this city; they were just as a part of it as the taxis and skyscrapers. 

The panicky speaker let out a cry of protest. She stopped again. From his incoherent sobs, she guessed that he was pleading. Her mind jumped to a conclusion: he was in danger. Dare she come to his aid? 

“Please, no!” His terrified cry was the last straw. Nessa ran as quickly as she could in the direction of his scream. She skidded around the corner just in time to hear a tortured, strangled scream. The man was standing, but his back was arched unnaturally backwards, his head raised to the sky, a horrible sound issuing from his mouth. Then it was over. His screams were cut off abruptly, and he crumpled to the ground like a lifeless doll. Nessa saw the shadows move before she could even react. She was pinned against the wall with such force, it knocked the wind out of her. Her assailant was completely in the dark, but she felt the cold tip of a knife against her neck. A strong, firm arm held her entire body in place. She was in trouble alright. Her breath came out raggedly. 

“Please,” she was begging for her life, too. Her voice sounded too high.

“Keep this a secret,” The low voice who had threatened the dead man whispered, close to her ear. And like a ghost, he disappeared into the darkness that was night.

-

“What do we have here?” 

“A whole bunch of dead people, Detective. I’m kind of up to my neck here. Our city’s getting pissed.” The medical examiner grinned to himself as he gestured to the corpses laid out on the steel operating tables. They looked even more stark under the glaring lights. 

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” He nodded gravely. The rising body count lately was more worrisome than usual, particularly with the ongoing clash of the two rival gangs that were the bane of the polices’ existence. The city was pissed.

“Anyway,” he moved on to a body covered with a white sheet, “This is your most recent guy. But,” he pulled back the sheet, “You’re in for a surprise.”

The last, twisted scream of the man was still etched on his face, as if condemned to an eternal life of suffering and agony. Clearly his last moments were not meant to be relived. 

“This is Robert Peterson.” The detective sounded interested, yet not surprised. Cops always aren’t surprised to see the bad guys on their table. It was what they do. But then, they die and leave behind a whole pile of crap for them to clean up.

“He’s the guy who own three strip clubs in this area.” The doctor sighed. “And I’d say he had gotten what he deserved.”

The police glanced down at his face and couldn’t help but agree.

“To what degree of pain did he suffer before he kicked the bucket?” 

“Actually,” the medical examiner adjusted his shirt, “He died of electrocution. Instant death. His heart took the fatal hit and the rest,” he nodded, “Is history.” 

“Ouch.” They both winced. 

“Oh, and I’ve go another guy here, who’s much, much weirder.” He beckoned the other guy over before pulling off the sheet from another cadaver. “Pale, normal looking, but unless my knowledge is failing me, which doesn’t always happen, he was drained completely of blood.”

“You meant to say vampire, don’t you? Halloween’s only 2 weeks from now.” 

“I know.” He sighed. “But someone has to say it, right?”

“True,” the policeman stood by the door, a hand on the doorknob. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t know the naked truth about our dearly beloved city.”

The doctor chuckled. “You know it, then?”

He smiled. “Of course I do. Everything the city is thinking.”

Beautiful Disaster; part 3

A rummage through her much-ignored closet and a black trench coat later, she and the still unnamed man were walking down the sidewalk. Despite her constant buggering to know his name, he had expertly wheedled his way out of dangerous waters and proceeded to talk about something else. Everybody seemed to stare unashamedly as they pass; the cyclists managed to maneuver their bikes and at the same time avoid getting themselves or anyone killed. The pedestrians were somewhat eyeballing. She felt like a paper being incinerated by a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass. Her name as well, was just as foggy as the lake in the morning. She frowned to herself. 

“Come,” he said suddenly, sliding an arm into hers and leading her up the stairs to a cozy cafe nestled between two gourmet diners. The queue outside all three shops were staggering; everyone was eager to be wrapped up someplace warm while enjoying their piping hot meal. She was just wondering how are they even going to get a table at this rate when he cut through the queue and tapped the young man who was seating the customers. He looked up and was momentarily stunned speechless.

“I-sir, do you have a table?” he tucked a lock of brown hair behind his right ear and flipped through the log book.

“Of course I do,” he said smoothly. When the guy was having problems locating his name, he said, “That’s okay, I’m sure I did call. Rest assured that.” To her horror, he slid a couple of notes into the guy’s pocket. No one appeared to have noticed. Stammering, he asked a server inside to lead them to their tables.

“What on earth was that about?” she demanded as they take their seats.

“Just making sure I got what I want,” he replied calmly as if he had placed an order for a book.

She raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t call to reserve?” 

He merely smiled his angelic smile. The cafe had a self-ordering service. They wrote down what they wanted on a sheet of stationery and placed it by the table side. Then, his attention-including his deep red eyes-focused on hers.

“Let’s talk.” 

“Are you a vampire?” the question blew out of her like escaping air from a balloon. But she was careful to keep her voice to a minimum volume.

He chuckled. A couple turned at the sound of his laugh.

“Let me show you.”

His pale, cold hand encircled her left wrist and slowly pulled her across the table. She sucked in her breath as he guided her hand to rest above where his heart should be. 

“Wait.” 

She waited. And, unmistakably yet impossible for her, there was the faint beating of a heart. It was too dull, but it was beating. She quickly withdrew her hand.

“Can’t you see? I’m alive, if that’s the correct term for it.” He stirred his tea and drank from the cup. She was too absorbed to notice that they had served drinks. 

Adamant to ignore the curious stares more than ever, she muttered, “But you drank my blood! You tasted it, for goodness sake!” 

He held up a finger. “I didn’t say that I was human. Human blood makes me stronger… in more ways than one. I could do many things alone with human blood. I saved your life,” his voice was velvet smooth at the last part. 

“A drop of blood could tell me a bit about you. A mouthful, on the other hand-” he ran his tongue across his lips as if in memory, “-not only tells me more about you, but also allows me to trace you. I know your footsteps, I know where you are, and where you’ve visited. Your blood is absolutely unpalatable, by the way.”

“If you tasted my blood, then you should know my real name.” She took a sip of her tea. The sweet fragrance burned the tip of her tongue. She stirred it impatiently.

He looked wistful, for a moment. “I do prefer Serafina,” he said casually, somewhat reluctantly. “But your real, human name is Emmanuelle Rose.” 

Emmanuelle Rose.

Her face dawned with apprehension. “Oh.” The name felt funny, like she had a Russian name. She lolled over the pronunciation for a while. Then, another question occured. 

“Do you mind if I ask another?”

He raised his eyebrows, managing to look just as dignified as his previous composure. “Of course not.”

“How exactly did you save me? I was dying, and you turned off the machine that was supposedly sustaining my life.”

He smiled again, and leaned forward, his hands clasped together in front of him.

“What better way to save a lady than to kiss her?” he purred.

She stared in numb revelation. Just when she was trying to wipe the memory clean off the slate and start over with a much more rational one, like he’d somehow brought the miraculous cure, or some bone marrow from a donor. But today it was all out the window. 

“I breathed new life into you. I set you free, from your pathetic human body. I reincarnated you as a being who is far more divine, more absolute, more triumphant.” He sounded as if he’d moulded a perfect sculpture. He sounded more and more like a vampire, yet he was denying it with a solid fact-vampires lack a beating heart.

“Okay…” she fingered the fork, absent-minded and confused for the umpteenth time that day. She figured that if he could smolder with his impossibly beguiling eyes, she probably could too. But working how to pull that trick off was another level of socializing she hadn’t even learned in her past life. She shuddered at that word. Guess she had better get used to that. 

She straightened up a little in her chair, and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. Then she too, leaned forward, and turned her gaze on his. 

“You told me my name, now I need to know yours.” 

He paused for a moment, no doubt appalled by her lack of talent in doing so. But his trademark smile appeared on his face and he laughed again, quietly.

“You have far more credit than I give you for,” he said, his red eyes shining with anticipation. “But very well. I shall tell you.”

His words were punctuated by the chinks of cutlery around them as the other guests talked while they ate.

“Sebastian.” His cryptic smile met his eyes. “My name is Sebastian.”

Beautiful Disaster; part 2

Am I in the morgue? She thought vaguely. After all, she felt the chilly air and the heavy silence normally associated with death. Her throat burned with thirst.

Her head snapped up at that. She leapt to her feet faster than she predicted. The room was hers, and it was unscathed, everything still laid in place, from the clutter on the table to the half-closed drawers. The same as when she had left. It felt odd to be back. She strode to the kitchen and grabbed an empty glass sitting by the sink. She didn’t care how long has it been stagnant in that position. Dazedly, she filled the glass and raised it to her lips. The unexpected taste of chlorine filled her senses, and she coughed. Drinking tap water is a definite hint that you’re going insane. After a glass of mineral water, she felt the memories returning. 

She was supposed to die. She felt it. If Death had a stench, she caught its full scent that day. Impossible. The cancer was killing her. It was hurting her, even before she knew of it. She was left to live out her days in the ward. 

Until he kissed her. She couldn’t remember anything about that kiss, except his scarlet eyes and his hypnotic voice. The Angel. 

She laughed a coarse laugh, her throat still parched with lack of use. Or maybe, she happened to survive and dreamt it all up from the morphine and chemo. At that word, she raised a hand automatically to her head. Her black hair was still in place, in fact, her mop was more unruly than the day she entered the hospital. She ran a hand distractedly through the tangled locks, and spotted a mirror hanging on the wall. She walked towards it, snatching up her comb. 

One look in the mirror told her that she wasn’t her. The person staring back was a bit longer, as if being stretched during the hospital stay. Her face was thinner instead of the ordinary roundness she was so annoyed to look at. She was just as pale as her cancer-stricken self before. And her eyes, they burned red. 

She screamed in shock; her left hand catching the mirror in denial. There was a sharp stab of pain as the glass fell to the floor in a symphony of smashes. She stared at the shards littering the floor. Those eyes. She felt the horror people usually relate to in movies when they encountered a ghost. They were hers.

“Silly.” A smooth voice reached her.

She spun around. It was the Angel. He stood easily by the wall, looking every bit as perfect, as magnificent when he had came to her.

He smiled at her. Again, that heartbreaking smile. “Did me saving you turned you suicidal?”

She stared stupidly back. And what was she suppose to say in return? That he had indeed turned her mad? Or was she mad and he was a figment of her own imagination? Instead, a sob rose in her throat and tears spilled from her eyes. She sank to the floor; he steered her away from the broken mess.

“You’re a mess,” he said quietly, taking her left arm and examining it. For the first time after she thoughtlessly smashed the glass, she saw her wrist, blood streaming down and even fragments of glass embedded in her skin. Numb, she tried to pull her arm back, but he refused to let her go.

“I’m helping you. Again.” he pronounced the words slowly as if talking to a toddler. He sat her at the kitchen counter. He poked around and returned with a box of needles she kept for sewing up the curtain holes. The sight of the thin, pointy needle drove her to snap. She scrambled up and ran across the room. But he was faster; he seized her around the middle, surprisingly light and gentle and pulled her to a stop. To her horror, he raised her bloody wrist to his lips. His mouth closed onto her skin, and she felt a sharp prickle of pain. He sighed, with an expression she didn’t know how to interpret.

He was tasting her blood, for crying out loud.

“Interesting.” He licked his lips, smiling. 

She tried to wriggle free from his grasp, but he kept her still.

“Would you stop running away when I’m really trying to help?” There was a faint trace of frustration and amusement in his silky voice now.

She allowed him this time. He swiftly pried away the fragments and used a gauze from the first-aid kit to bind her wrist. Now she looked like she was wearing a cloth-wristband. Using his hands, he wiped her tears from her face.

“Now,” he said, smiling slightly at her, “Do you remember?”

She didn’t need him to tell her what. Of course she knew.

“Y-yes.” The sound of her own voice surprised her. She hadn’t heard herself in ages. 

“Do you remember your name?” Again, that quiet, singing voice. 

“My name.” she muttered to herself. It was as if that part of her brain was sealed shut; she had the faint memory that she once had a name, but was unable to recall it. “My name!” She burst out, frantic. “I can’t remember my name!” The words sounded like a shrill shriek. 

The man was silent for a moment. Then he raised his eyes to hers. They smoldered, with a burning intensity of scarlet. She was sure her eyes were the same as his now. “Not at all?” 

She bit her lip to stop the tears. “No.”

“Ah.” He looked at the newspaper. He was dressed in black, changing nothing from the first day.

“Who are you?” She finally managed a question.

He smiled widely. “That-you will find out in due course. But I could tell you, that you and I are very unique individuals.” 

Obviously.

“May I know your name?”

“Ah,” he said again, waving his finger around. “That too-you will find out later. But first, it is your name that we must worry about.”

He continued to look around the place. His eyes settled on some magazines she never read, delivered over by some over-eager publishing company.

“Someone like you deserves a beautiful name,” he said lightly, while flicking through it. His hair fell past his face as he bent low. She stared.

“‘Serafina’. I like the sound of that.” another grin. “Sounds good. Let’s take a walk, Serafina.” 

Her head was still riddled with questions. But that name. 

Serafina.

Beautiful Disaster

I had a very weird night. I dreamt that Lisa Cuddy fell to her death (apparently she was the antagonist) and I was crying myself hysterically over her dead body. Oh no. And Cameron was trying to calm me down as I was shouting for House (?) and he was coming up the stairs. (The setting seems to be this ornate, not-so-brightly-lit place with huge staircases) And then I was crying against him. I remembered that he was wearing grey. In other words, it felt so real. When I woke up, I was feeling confused and I thought I was actually still back there. 

Okay, allow me to breathe…

I shouldn’t go into detail before I terrify my DA friends (: so now, on to those short stories! I may just continue one of them if you have a preference. If you want to have a dream discussion, we should do it… at college or anywhere but here? Or maybe here is okay too. Haha.

-

Music: Stacks, Bon Iver

She didn’t need anyone to tell her the truth. It was so obvious. The heart monitor beeped monotonously, rhythmically, indicating the steady beats of her weakening heart. Every beat sent a spasm of pain coursing down her spine. She was consciously aware of the breathing apparatus that was inserted down her throat. It’s rough texture only rubbed her trachea sore. 

Take it off, she thought dully, just take it off and let me die. 

The room was dimly lit by the thin line of sunlight that peek through the edges of the curtains. The light didn’t bother her, in fact, she was yearning to let go. Anyway, she can’t ask for anything more than light. It was what she wanted.

Death is coming for me, she thought drowsily against her pillow. He will lift me up in his arms and take me away, hopefully to a much better place where I can exist from where I am now. 

As if her words were a herald by itself, she could make out a figure beneath her eyelids. She struggled to lift them, but to no avail. The silhouette was shrouded by the poor lighting of the room, and it aggravated her not knowing, yet she was oddly intrigued. 

The figure approached her sick bed. She opened her mouth to speak, only to realize that the wretched breathing pipe was blocking her larynx. But remove it, and she will die quicker than she could string a complete sentence together. Pathetic, she thought angrily to herself. You are, that’s what. 

Whoever the person was, there was no conversation, no question. As the shadow glided further into the line of light, she could make out a male form.

It was Death. He came for her. It struck her now, but then, you can’t regret when you’re dying. You’d die anyway. Death moved swiftly, gracefully to the curtains and pulled them apart ever so slightly. A generous amount of sunlight-but not harsh to be glaring-cast the room in a much healthier, happy glow. Maybe he wanted to have a more optimistic approach while taking her soul. Or perhaps, she thought, he wanted to look into the eyes of the dying before he did it. 

What was left of her breath caught in her raw throat when Death walked slowly over to her, and seated by her bedside. Her heart attempted what would have been a wild beating, but only managed faint, erratic beeping on the monitor. 

“I’m offering you a permanent solution to your problems.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but she caught every word. His speech was oddly enthralling, musical; it didn’t suit the whole black, Death image. It sounded like the music she wanted to hear. How stupid. She was probably dreaming, indeed. 

Death lowered his head, and his face was visible. Her heart jumped; so did the monitor. This couldn’t be Death. He was probably an angel. Such beauty only existed in fairy tales, legends and myths. His heavenliness struck her as a painful chord. Her eyes ached with the intensity of it. Either way, he was too winsome to be human. The Angel of Death smiled, and it was perfection in his features. She couldn’t move, which was a good thing. 

He reached towards her face, and laid a hand on her cheek. His skin was porcelain, as pale as an albino. It felt so smooth that she wanted it to remain in that position forever. Was Death making her feel comfortable before he carried out his duty? His other hand switched off the machine, and closed around the breathing tube and gently, expertly, withdrew it from her throat. She felt no pain. She was probably paper thin, anyway. He could break her if he want to.

Her mouth felt free from the plastic taste of the tube. But her eyes-with the last ounce of her strength-was drawn to his face, the face of an Angel, but with the mission of Death. Again he smiled his beatific smile, crooked this time. And he lowered his face to hers.

She was too drained to speak, to even respond. His features were highlighted in its own perfection up close. His sweeping eyelashes, his glossy, luscious black hair. So glorious. 

“I’m your solution,” he whispered, and she caught sight of his eyes for the first time. From far, they appear black, but now, they glistened a crimson red. Blood red. Vampire. Death. She was transfixed, if she wasn’t immobile already.

The stunning Angel dipped down, his flawless lips meeting hers.

-

Whew. First story down! (: