Angels and Demons

Angel : Mother's Presence

Why did this have to happen? Why her? I stared down at the headstone, my hands running over the cold, smooth stone. Why?

The graveyard was beginning to wake as the rising sun peeked over the bright green trees. Normally, like I've seen in the movies, graveyards are dark, foggy, creepy, and dead, but this one was so full of life. Birds chirped their happy songs as they flew around, and the flowers turned their beautiful faces towards the balloon rising in the sky.

A ray of sunlight shone on me like a spotlight, and every songbird that had once been singing a short moment ago disappeared along with their sweet music. The soft breeze stopped blowing at my dark locks of hair, and the world went silent. It was as if time had stopped and suddenly I was overwhelmed with a feeling of happiness that felt very familiar.

"Mom," I muttered. I knew she was there, for I could feel her presence. I began turning in all directions for the woman I call mother. No, I used to call her that. Of course she wasn't there. My mom was below my feet cold and rotting.

She wasn't actually there. She had been murdered by her own psychotic husband. The comforting feeling disappeared and the world began moving again.

The man who had killed Mom was Jean Deimos, my father. My mother's murderer was her own husband. Right now, he is in prison and the date for his execution for manslaughter is in two months. Jean was a disgusting man, a careless alcoholic. He never seemed to care for my mother or me. He was constantly drinking and yelling at us, usually to get him another. Jean was cruel to us and I never will understand why Mom married him.

I hated him when he lived with us, and now I hate him more than I ever have or will hate anyone for killing the one person I loved the most.

My quaking fingers traced the inscription on my mother's headstone. Footsteps in the grass of the graveyard caught my attention and I looked up to see who it was. My heart caught in my throat when I saw the familiar black haired man walking towards me. I screamed as he reached out to me, clutching my throat in both of his ice cold hands. His sneer mocked me as I gasped for breath. My vision blurred and my heart failed to beat any longer.

No! No I'm not dead. He isn't here. Dad's in prison. I'm okay, I frantically thought to myself. Slowly, I opened my eyes and searched the graveyard around me. There was no murderer and I was not dead.

These visions occurred often, and I also had bad nightmares that were quite similar to my horrific day dreams. Each nightmare was always Jean killing Mom or me, and each one left me waking to my own screaming and my night clothes sticking to my skin soaked in cold sweat. I would never go back to sleep, for I was too afraid that more nightmares would come or, even worse, I wouldn't wake again the next morning.

I checked the time on my iPhone and realized I would be late for school. I was starting my first day at Rhoster High School. "Goodbye, Mom," I whispered to the gravestone and walked away from the spot where my mother was buried.

After a few minutes of trying to get my little, old Ford pickup to start, the engine finally revved to life and I began driving towards my new school and, although I didn't know it yet, my fate.