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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 35293
Category:
other
Posted: February 2nd. 2009 2:56:31 PM
Views: 102 |
A Fallen Angel's Wings: Verse 2
by Evesapple89
Age Group: Adult
Verse 2
The Fallen’s Journey
A man, so called Nicholas, wandered into Chilton’s Necropolis, pausing at a head stone labeled Diann Delmontague, May Her Soul Find Peace. That statement was all too true, though not the peace the humans were thinking of, she found it none the less. His mind wandered back to the now and wondered how he was going to deal with the newly inspired writer, Adrian. She was an exceptionally beautiful young woman, though her thoughts and ‘typing’ made her a danger not only to the Fallen community, but also to herself. More the danger was that she didn’t know that what she is writing is real and her so called Nicholas was, in reality, her main character, Meleas. That she was writing about him amused him more than anything, for he was definitely not a weak Fallen and he had won nearly all of his battles. Though many others were furious by her accusations of making them seem weaker then they were. Many Fallens are relieved Meleas was dealing with the author and didn’t give it another thought.
Meleas passed through a simple crypt that morphed into a bar-night club, named Der Flügel von Fallen, immediately his ears start to pound from ongoing music, though no one could ever tell where it came from. The clubs white marble walls always gave a cold look, no lights lit the room, save for the continual blinking of a blue strobe light. Meleas placed himself at a carved maple stool and raised his index finger at the bartender. A second latter a clear, curved glass came sliding toward him. The clear liquid sloshed in the glass causing some to drizzle out onto Meleas’ hand. He quickly licked the beverage off and began to gulp down the sweet ambrosia.
“Well, you seem depressed.”
Meleas turned to a radiant middle-aged woman, her long, crimped, golden hair flowing from a lazily tied braid, eyes as yellow as her hair staring at him from the cool ivory skin glowing radiantly from her French features, hands on her hips.
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” Meleas replied dryly and returned to his drink.
“Come on, I thought you would be happy to see me.” The woman pouted.
“Go away, Diann.” Meleas threatened through clenched teeth.
Diann showed fake sorrow and gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Meleas pushed her off effortlessly and stood to leave.
“Don’t be like that, love.” Diann pleaded and tried to kiss him, but he pulled away.
“Leave. Now, Diann.” Meleas glared.
Diann frowned and glared at Meleas. She turn around and darted to the club door and disappeared.
“Good to see you haven’t lost your warmth, Meleas.” The bartender stated sarcastically, cleaning a glass with his apron.
Meleas ignored him. He got up and headed out of the club, and began to wonder why he even went back to the graveyard. He wandered the streets aimlessly for hours, pondering what to do with his time here. He was bored and didn’t feel like dealing with Diann or Adrian.
Meleas soon found himself at the local harbor. A pale mist sheltered the rocking boats and yachts; everything seemed almost surreal and silent. The sound of old, wet wood creaked under Meleas’ feet as he paced the dock. He sat at the edge, looking up at the darkened sky, breathing in the salt water air, and then exhaling. What he wouldn’t give to be back up there, a glorious angel of God, the messenger of justice and faith.
Author's Location: Sheboygan, Wisconsin
More Poems: Evesapple89 has posted 9 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Evesapple89 - Click HERE
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