The Angels

Short Story

I flicked my glowing flashlight off, and returned it to my satchel. The looming black fence in front of me would scare anyone with its potruding spikes and barb wire armor. But I'm not just anyone. I glance at my watch. 11:30 P.M. I have an hour till I have to be back home or I'll miss my deadline. I walk along the fence until I find a break in the barb wire coils up above. Instead of seeing the spikes as a threat, I use them as a step ladder to the top of the fence. I drop my satchel, then jump down, rolling onto my right shoulder to absorb the fall. I grab my satchel and sling it onto my shoulder.

My eyes flicker to the abandoned, spooky mansion in front of me. The moon, full and bright, casts a ghostly glow on the vine-covered mansion. What really catches my eye is the two dirty white angels that guard the entrance. Their mournful faces are buried in their cracked hands, making them look like they are weeping. This is what I came here for.

See, I'm a photographer. A darn good one too. And I have an oppurtunity to join the team of National Geographic photographers if I take and 'unearthly' photo. Unearthly was the category I chose, knowing this mansion was here. With the full moon, and the abandoned mansion, plus these forlorn angels, seems pretty unearthly to me.

I smile. It's beautiful. I raise the camera to my eye and focus in on the perfect picture that will make my career. I realize that my camera lens is blurry though, so I drop it from my eye and wipe the lens carefully. Again, I raise my camera. But this time, I scream. The angles have moved.