Angela's Love

This is a short story that I wrote quite a while ago and now that I look at it, I find it to be a little cheezy. So, don't worry about bashing it, haha. I would love to hear some input about writing styles since I'm new to writing stories. Thanks!

“Angela! Angela! ANGELA!” I called. I am shouting for my servant. Between you and me, I think she is going deaf. Such a pity, Angela has been with our family for thirty years, since I was a child. “Yes ma’am,” said Angela. “Where have you been? Little Timmy needs to be fed,” I shouted. You can tell that she has aged because of the labor she has endured. Angela scurried down the hallway to make breakfast for the whole family.

            We moved to Georgia after the Civil War. Angela is free, but she has no place to go; therefore, she still serves us for room and food. My name is Pamela Strongarm. My husband is Mark, he usually works all day and my son is Timmy, he is too young to do things for himself. Angela had a husband, but he died in a horrible accident at the processing mill. At least that’s what Angela was told. Jacob was his name, and he was horrible to everyone except Angela, so I locked him up in the attic to prevent any damage to my son. I told Angela that he went to the processing mill for me and that I received a call on his behalf. The owner of the mill said that some machinery that fell crushed him. Angela was devastated and she secluded herself from everyone for weeks on end. Angela was in too much pain to see her husband’s corpse. I saw the body to be certain that it was Jacob. When the accident occurred, my family was in debt because of our rotting crops and didn’t make enough money to bury Jacob. The public office took care of the payment for the funeral, but it wasn’t much. It consisted of Jacob being buried in a five-foot grave and Jacob being placed in a cheap sac. Angela didn’t want to witness this desecration of his grave. She was terrified of death and losing loved ones. She didn’t believe that Jacob could die and yet he did. What she doesn’t know is that he rotted away in my attic, crying for her to hear him.

            One Christmas Angela received a golden candleholder from Jacob, who was still alive then. After I secluded him, she questioned me about the candleholder many times. “Ma’am, Timmy is fed and I was wondering do you have my candleholder because I would really enjoy having it. It would remind me of my late husband,” asked Angela. What should I do- should I tell her the truth about Jacob or lie again? “Angela, I told you I have no idea where Jacob hid it, and if I did know, would I tell you?” Angela’s face turned a shade of violet and I knew she would have another tantrum. “Why ma’am would you not tell me? I deserve to know the truth about that candleholder!” I knew this would be the part where I should scream at her, but something inside told me not to yell at her. She does deserve the truth. “Honey, I’m sorry, but I don’t know where it is,” I lied. Angela left and I knew she would come back because I have her husband’s corpse and candleholder in a chest in the attic. I might as well check on the cargo to make sure it was locked.

            I walked upstairs, pulled the attic stairs down, and climbed them. I am safe from being found because Mark won’t be home for another hour and Angela is probably weeping in her room. The chest is made of oak with a carved picture. It has two lovers kissing and doves, which represent love, flying in the background. Jacob and Angela’s love was pure and not just for money, like my marriage to Mark. I envied them, and that is why Jacob had to die. I wanted them to suffer and show them love is not everything. I knew Jacob would be the best one to die because he didn’t help around the house, and I needed someone to help me with the daily choirs. The lock on the chest was large and looked like it hadn’t been open for years. I opened the chest and saw the sand I put in there to prevent the smell of rotting flesh. The sand covered the bones of Jacob and the candleholder. I took the candleholder out; I locked the chest and went back downstairs.

            Today I think I should show Angela the candleholder that I found. “Angela, Angela,” I yelled, “I found something that you would want.” Angela flung open her door and ran out crying. “I found the candleholder, but it is covered in red wax.” She cried on my shoulder, thanked me, took the candleholder, and went back into her room. I didn’t tell her that it was in the attic or in the chest with her husband. I didn’t need the candleholder anymore because Jacob was dead. I tortured Jacob with the candleholder by burning a red candle. It reminded him of blood running through his veins, and it looked like he was bleeding out onto the floor and walls. The candlelight had a profound effect on the way Jacob died and because of it he was driven to madness. Also, the loss of his love was unbearable. You see I told him that Angela was sick with typhoid and was soon to die. He was dying because he lost his true love. I had no sympathy for him.

            “Angela, could you help me with the dishes?” I asked. Angela agreed to help me even though she despises cleaning the dishes. She was in a good mood; she was whistling a tune from the radio. As I dried the porcelain dishes, I looked out the window. The back yard was filled with leaves and fallen branches. I saw a raven with jet-black feathers and crimson eyes land in the yard. Our souls connected with the glance it gave me. After a few minutes, which felt like years, the raven switched its glance at the sky toward what looked a giant rain cloud. The sky darkened by the dark cloud, but I discovered it was a flock of ravens coming to join their friend. I gaped at the ravens, which covered ground and trees. They landed everywhere; there had to be at least a hundred birds. Angela was staring at them, too. At the strike of twelve on the grandfather clock, all the ravens left as if one giant gust of wind blew them away. The lawn was left covered in black feathers.

            “Ma’am, may I ask where you had stumbled on the candleholder?” questioned Angela the next morning. “No, you may not. It is none of your business where it was found!” I screamed while eating breakfast. “But ma’am, it has no importance, I just want to see if there was a note with it from Jacob,” pleaded Angela. “You are my servant not an explorer to find a simple note from your dead husband. Anyway, he was in no condition to write a note and why would he, Jacob thought you were dead!” I choked on those last words. I just told my hideous secret I have been hiding deep within my soul for four years. Angela’s face turned pale, like she saw a ghost of Jacob smiling at her in contentment that she finally found out the truth. I stood up, knocking my chair over, and ran upstairs to the attic. Angela was not fit to run, but she chased me up the stairs. I gave away my secret, and Angela would take her revenge on me. “Ma’am, where are you?” asked Angela. I would never show my face again to her or my family. I locked myself up in the attic so she could not kill me. “Ma’am, I want to talk to you about my husband!” shouted Angela. She was right under the attic stairs. All of a sudden the stairs flung open, and there was Angela with a knife in her hand. The knife was dropping pellets of blood onto the floor; she killed Timmy. Mark wouldn’t be home for another hour and I was a dead woman. “Ma’am, where is my husband? Is he still alive?” questioned Angela. I glanced at the chest, and she remembered it. That was the chest she received from her father as a wedding present. She pried open the lock with the knife. I was stricken with fear. Angela dug through the sand and found her husband’s wedding ring and bones. She started crying because she realized that I killed him and not the machinery at the mill. Angela turned to face me and struck me with knife, and it felt like all my deception left my body. Then, the pain flowed in as my blood flowed out of my body. I could hear Mark’s footsteps and screams as Angela stabbed him with the same knife. The last thing I saw was Angela killing herself saying, “I’m coming Jacob!”

 

Author's Note

How could I work on describing the characters?

Reviews

[Dalaina Renee]

They were well discribed. Scarey story, with a shocking ending!

[Emmie]

Wow, the ending was pretty good. I liked it because it kept me going and the ending makes me want more! Keep writing... only good to come from you!