Stroked

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ariel

   

  

Annoyed with Daniel, I walked extra slow to the meeting room. Childish? Yes. Effective? When you see his vein twitch, you tell me.

My footsteps were light on the white marble. I looked around and each thing seemed to hold a memory. The white vase in the corner with gold flowers on it; I remember smashing it on this boy's head. He had stolen my juice box and I've always had a very short temper.

Then there's the white curtains. White had always bothered me, always. I had just been a meager four and the world of markers had just been introduced to my little self. All the other angels began drawing flowers and rainbows on their papers. I took the big fat black sharpie and colored the curtains. I scribbled all over them until they were entirely black.

The look on the teacher's face was priceless. I still remember it.  She ran to get Daniel who in turn was shocked as well. Angels are supposed to be very obedient and of course they're supposed to love the color white. It just comes with being an angel, I guess. So the fact that I not only broke the rules (Oh-no!) was appalling enough, me coloring something black was like tree's turning purple, spewing carbon dioxide, and killing people.

Many of the adult angels were ready to throw me down on Earth, which has been against the law for centuries now. Ever heard the term 'Fallen Angel'? Yeah well an angel becomes fallen when they do something bad and are banished to Earth. But years ago the elders decided we weren't going to have that as a punishment anymore because apparently some of the fallen angels led an attack on heaven.

To be honest, I would have been perfectly fine with being banished to Earth. This place is a torture chamber in itself. Sure, I like Daniel I guess and I'll always be somewhat grateful towards him since he adopted me but besides him I dislike everyone here.

I reached the large wooden door which screamed important. The door must have been ten feet tall and the intricate patterns all over it were hand carved, you could just tell. With my extra sharp senses (since I'm an angel I have enhanced senses - comes with the package) I could smell the musty scent of mahogany. My hand grasped the cold golden brass doorknob and I pulled open the heavy door, without knocking of course.

I took in the sight of four sharp looking men and the same amount of women seated at a long table made of the same material as the grand door. The Elders.

Many only dream of meeting them. They have powers that could rattle anyone to their core.

Swift. Vicious. Wise. Powerful. 

Oh and old, definitely ancient. Angels aren't immortal. We ain't no Dracula. But we live a lot longer then those petty humans. Eighty years? Come on, our lives are just gettin' started at that age.

But it wasn't their unnatural beauty or age that first striked me. It was the crease lines on their flawless faces.

Crease Lines. That's like zombie apocalypse big.

Angels don't get wrinkles, never. We always have perfect skin. The lines go to show the the human toll of the war. And now that we're losing they must be under even more pressure, obviously.

Well too bad for them. They need to toughen up a bit.

"Sit down Ariel." Daniel said, who happened to be right by the door. When I looked toward him his warm smile contradicted the little vein popping out of his forward. My guess is he figured out I walked extra slow in a petty act of defiance.