Stone Angels
Her blue eyes blazed, like setting ice on fire. She pulled her coat around her, slamming the door in a fit of fury. The wind slapped her in the face, whipping her blonde hair violently.
The street was eerily quiet her footsteps the only sound to be heard. The trees stood over her tall and imposing, the twisted branches adding to the streets sinister atmosphere. The wind began to howl raising goose bumps on her skin. Startled at how far she had walked she accepted the inevitable with a sigh of defeat.
Turning she began the walk back. The walk home seemed longer, as if time had stretched. She slipped through the back door clicking it softly shut.
"Eleanora" Her father's booming voice vibrated through the house.
"Yes" she groaned, flinging herself onto her bed.
"Eleanora!" The shout could have shaken the rafters. Sighing she pushed herself up off her bed ambling towards the kitchen. His face was turning an alarming shade of red and he was gesturing like a mad man. She tuned out, it wasn't anything new, she had this speech memorized and could recite it on demand if asked. Eleanora still wasn't listening when she felt her body tingle and a shiver run down her spine. A feeling lodge itself in the pit of her stomach. A feeling very much like fear.
"Dad" she whispered "They're coming".
There was an explosion of glass and then the very thing that had haunted her dreams, burst through her kitchen door.
She whipped her head up to meet bleach white eyes devoid of emotion. His mouth open forever frozen in a silent scream and agony etched into the plains of his face. He lifted a hand that resembled a skeleton, bone showing through torn skin. The hand connected with her father's shoulder and Eleanora's world shook, crashed and tumbled. She watched in silent horror as the creature jerked and her father's body went sailing through the air to collide into the window, breaking it into shards of glass. He would not move from that spot until he was placed in a black body bag by paramedics with monotone voices, with pity sliding through the cracks. Whilst all Eleanora could think was, my god were there any windows left unbroken?
She turned expecting to feel the impact of the creatures hand but the blow never came, the creature long since gone. Her back hit the wall and she slid to the floor, descending into despair. She hadn't been strong enough to fight the icy fingers of sleep.
For days afterward it was all anybody could talk about, the murder at the white's house. How the girl had lain down and let death come. But what nobody knew was that when the sun flittered through the curtains her eyes fluttered open. And with a strength no one thought she possessed Eleanora White stood up, face angled up to breath in the sky. An angel etched from stone.