Crimson Angel

It's part of a novella I NEED to finish...

 

Blood. Crimson and sweet. The precious fluid passed out of the small wrist of the child. It fell in a unique pattern that looked like an angel from one angle; death from another. The child didn’t scream or cry as the blood spilled, no, the child gave a grin and tipped their head back. It was a release the child needed, it was this form of freedom the rats neglected.
The child was blonde, pale and eyes that never could choose between blue and grey, but the eyes always remained carefully blank. Yes, I made a point of hiding myself behind my outer appearance, but this ‘child’ was so much more. The birth of the Crimson Angel and a terror to many, puzzle to few, and nothing to everyone. Being the only child of her family she was everything humanity would call ‘lost’ but the child enjoyed being so. The deeper part of her mind was focused on the release of her pain, her inner turmoil. It was time she felt the real rush of watching the lovely fluid vanish.
The child had to choose something, something pure, yes. It was fitting; to lose her innocence she would take another’s. But it was the blood she needed if the child needed anything from a rat… Her eyes danced with pleasure as she saw a pale, dark haired boy with dark eyes and a sorrow-filled expression. How strange, for a rat…they never felt sorrow or remorse. The felt few things in her opinion—of course the child wished the death of them all.
As she watched she realized the child was a few years older then her, and oddly watchful… No. Rats never watched, they studied and took and made the other ‘children’ feel the pain they lacked. Her eyes narrowed and watched closely, he was moving towards a vast of nothingness. Rats did odd things, she knew, but he was much more interesting.
The child decided to leave the dark haired boy for her grand finale…she would practice on others. As she turned she saw a small redheaded baby with laughing green eyes and it—for rats at that age were classless—it was alone. She moved closer and picked up a thin piece of rock, it dug into her palm as she leaned over; smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile. She kissed it’s forehead as a quick slash cut the jugular; silent but she could feel the blood pour from it’s soft flesh.

 

I woke years later; blood slashed across my pale wrist as I looked up I saw the picture of the dark haired boy… He was still out there. I grinned and took the small rock she had used from my bedside and whispered against the stained stone. “Haven’t you realized it? I win…”

 

Reviews

[Chaos X 3]

very gripping and it completely engulfed my attention from the first sentence or two. I do hope that this isn't the end to what could blossom into a great story. It leaves me wanting to know more. You know the basic, "why's and who's". Great job!


-Dawn Marie