The house was old and rustic. A small one story house. The shingles were falling apart and moss crawled up the walls from the ground. The yard, squared off by a once white but now yellow picket fence, was full of knee high weeds. In the front left of the center sidewalk stood a stone statue. It was a five foot tall statue of an angel. It appeared to be weeping.
Jared had inherited the run down house from his grandparents who had passed recently. He observed the mess of a structure and was going to be staying there. He had recently been kicked out of his apartment. The inside of the house was in better condition then the outside. The furniture was old but it was comfy. Jared had decided to kick it on the couch that night.
In the morning Jared checked the mail purely out of habit. As he passed the weeping statue chills ran down his back. It felt as if he was being watched. But when he turned to see if there was anyone there, no one was. Well except that extremely creepy statue. He made his way to the mailbox and even it was rusted and old. Expecting an empty cobweb filled box, Jared was pleasantly surprised to find a small envelope.
There was nothing on the front except his name. /how weird/ He thought. Opening the letter he read the beautiful handwritten words spilled across the small page.
Jared,
That's your name right? Anyways welcome to the neighborhood. I live close by and saw you move in. I hope you like it here.
The letter wasn't signed with a name just a small pair of wings sketched where the name ought to be. It was weird but beautiful.
"How thoughtful" he said to himself. /But how did they know my name/. Jared thought. He hadn't introduced himself to any of the neighbors.
The next couple of months were the weirdest for Jared. He kept recur bing the letters. They were never marked with a name just the simply fine wings. After a month of receiving the letters he stared responding. He asked questions like 'who are you?' and 'what's your name?'. He had never seen words written so eloquently before. But all the mistress ever said was that she couldn't tell because it wasn't safe.
At the same time the angel in his yard appeared to be moving. Only by inches in most instances. But once it had moved by a whole two feet almost. Jared suspected hooligans. The local teenagers playing a prank on the creepy guy with a weeping angel in his yard.
One morning he was leaving for work and he noticed something off about his angel. It had moved. But not the whole thing. It had moved its hands and head. The angel appeared to be looking down at was in its hardened palms. Jared walked slowly toward the angel. He looked at the angels hand and there in its cold, hard, grip was his letter. It had been opened and the letter was flapping daintily in the light breeze.
Confused, he grabbed the letter from her hands. Jared couldn't believe his eyes, it was his letter.
As he reads the letter she defies her urge to move. He seems confused wondering as to how the angel in his yard had gotten his letter. He looks up and notices a stone tear on the cheek of the angel. Even more confused, knowing there weren't tears there before, he reaches out to touch the tear. He blinks, much to her relief, before the touch. She moves to the other side of the yard. Intrigued he turns toward her and with every blink her face changes. Her expression screams 'No' 'Stop' 'I'm not safe'. But he continues to move toward her.
"Is this you?" Jared yelled holding up the letter. "Are you the one who has been writing to me." Her perfect cobblestone face is now riddled with rock rivers. Tears pour out her eyes in more abundance with every blink.
"Listen I don't know what you are or how this is possible but what you wrote, it's beautiful. I think I'm falling in love with you." He blinked and she put her hand over her mouth. His eyes widened and he realized what he must do. He shuts his eyes, and holds them closed. The angel, free to move, is shocked. What is he doing? She moves closer to him and what feels like seconds to him is minutes in slow motion to her. He finally opens his eyes and her hand is inches from his cheek. He looked into her hard eyes, softened by sorrow. He reached out toward her cheek. Letting his fingers gently grace the edge of her cold cheek. Then closed his eyes and felt warmth explode on his fingers. He felt tear soaked skin appear beneath his hand. He opened his eyes and looked at the stone face. Her hand was still inches from his cheek. He pushed his cheek into he rock palm and blinked. Then he vanished at the angels touch.
Now at the old house of their meeting, you can still see that angel. She is on her knees, crippling in sorrow. She is weeping, not for the protection of other angels, but for her lost love.