How to Build an Angel

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How to Build an Angel; Can one truely create an angel?
Topic Started: 3 Oct 2008, 12:44 AM (73 Views)
Delirium_Butterfly	3 Oct 2008, 12:44 AM Post #1
Veteran Posts: 2,184 Group: Members Member #372 Joined: 24 October 2007	A bunch of mini drabbles on a bunch of not-quite-fleshed-out characters and a nearly non exsistant plot of a bunch of people who are running from people who want to make angels. Its mainly some preceptives on their lives and their thoughts. I might actually put it together as a real story, but for now, it is just a bunch of random pieces. I'm going to update at random, and may even start a whole new character, so, yeah. Don't expect a short wait, if you even bother to look. ---- Bad on the spot poetry bout the story Spoiler: click to toggle Take spun gold for hair and azaleas for lips Sapphires for eyes and silver for blood Add innocence for the heart and the skies for bliss Silks for flesh and crystals for bone Use moonlight for skin and velvet to kiss The sun for spirit and beauty to behold Pain and suffering we put into our creation Yet it is nothing but a doll without life within Blood and tears fell into our work Will we truly stretch the laws of God thin? Years and lives we used to shape our masterpiece Can we truly breathe life into dolls on whim? Can one truly create an angel? --- How does one build an angel? A being made of earth or sky, A being made to live and fly, A being who shall never cry? What is the secret to building an angel? A secret god will never share, Which we are jealously aware, Yet we chose not to care. How will one build an angel? Will we really stretch the law of god thin? If only doing so on a whim, Just to create the perfect sin? Ale Raphael fe Angeus, He who has the Hands of the Angels Spoiler: click to toggle ~~ He stared at his pale, slim fingers. No calluses found, despite his almost constant writing he did. A pianist’s hands, as they said. Testing the theory, he went to white and gold trimmed grand piano in the sunroom one day. He played it for the first time, and as his hands flew across the keys, and from it sprang forth shining, golden notes that left a pleasant ring in ones ears. Moonlight Sonata filled the mansion with a great emotion that would leave Beethoven himself weeping in joy and bitterness, to find someone who could play his piece so perfectly, so beautifully. When he stopped, he found he had gained an audience of his family and guests, all praising his ability. He never played the piano again. The room was haunted with the melody for years. ~~ “His hands are a gift from heaven!” “His hands are true blessing from the angels.” “His hands are hands of god!” The hands of god? Ironic. He had stopped believing in god a long time ago. ~~ He is growing into a handsome young man, near perfect, even, although none dare say so in his presence. He had taken an extreme dislike towards all things described as perfect. His hand was the first, and virtually only thing on the list of things he hated, only accompanied by his name. The meaning, he found as he slowly climbed of higher age, was not one that described him in the least. But as he was becoming of age, his parents, traditional as ever, began searching for wives for him to marry. They invited royal and noble daughters to balls, parties and over for dinners, hoping that there would be one that pleased their second son and married. They hoped that he would find great happiness in the girls of high standing families, with great riches, lovely looks and intelligence. He was less than pleased. ~~ Raphael. Raphael, the arch angel. Raphael, the God’s Healing. Raphael, one of the seven who stand before the Lord. He hated that name, his name. The only times he could stand being called as such is at parties and balls that he was required to attend, when there were guests over, or when his parents stubbornly continued to call him by such. He much preferred the name he had gained from a friend, a friend from his childhood who he could not remember. His face had been long forgotten, and his name was lost to him. However, he was the first to call him Ale, as to why, he had forgotten, but he liked it. Unfortunately, few called him this, with the exception of his older brother, but he said it in such a way that made Ale want to punch him. He really did punch people when they called him Raphael after he had told them not to the first few times. It often led to fights, which he had gotten frighteningly skilled at. Still, be preferred his sword over his fists. He studied medicine, just for the pure irony of it. Edited by Delirium_Butterfly, 3 Oct 2008, 02:06 AM.



Delirium_Butterfly	3 Oct 2008, 04:18 AM Post #2
Veteran Posts: 2,184 Group: Members Member #372 Joined: 24 October 2007	...wow. Just, wow. I feel so ALONE.



ashes	3 Oct 2008, 10:42 PM Post #3
Veteran Posts: 1,105 Group: Members Member #1,301 Joined: 7 August 2008 Country: United States of America Gender: Female	Wow, you're an amazing author!!!! I love your vocabulary!



Delirium_Butterfly	3 Oct 2008, 11:03 PM Post #4
Veteran Posts: 2,184 Group: Members Member #372 Joined: 24 October 2007	OH THANK YOU! FINALLY!



Sarge	6 Oct 2008, 03:43 AM Post #5
Veteran Posts: 1,760 Group: Members Member #571 Joined: 15 February 2008 Favorite theme: RPA 2: Dark Country: United States of America	meep. interesting. meep.



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