In the Arms of an Angel
Cara hummed as she watered her garden. It was a beautiful day in August, and she'd decided to finally tidy her garden. After the recent rain storms, her once-beautiful garden was a wreck, mud and random flower roots everywhere. The usually sparkling fountain in the far corner was a mess of mud and gravel, the tiny cherub on top halfheartedly spewing gobs of dirt. Now, however, the garden was once again a sparkling array of roses and lilies, and the fountain poured water that danced joyfully, crystalline and pure. Cara stood on her patio and surveyed her handiwork, nodding proudly. This was her only pride in life, her jewel of a garden.
Cara jumped when she heard the phone ring from inside her house, startled that she'd been so stupid as to forget to close the door. She slipped off her shoes in the porch and headed upstairs to her kitchen, where the phone rang endlessly. Picking it up, she answered, "Wotcher?" curiously.
"Such a chav you are, dear sister!" Her twin Chelsea giggled from the other side of the phone. Cara laughed.
"I've been spending too much time here, I need to get back to the country," She sighed. "How are you, love?"
Chelsea sighed, mimicking her sister. "Fine, I 'spose."
Cara's brow furrowed. "You suppose? Well, what's the matter? Are you okay?"
Chelsea sighed again. "I am, but I'm not so sure about you."
"…What about me?"
Cara heard the words her sister whispered fearfully over the phone and her knees went weak. She grabbed the chair to her table and gripped it until her knuckles went white. There was a moment of dead silence. Then –
"You're sure?" She whispered, her heart in her chest. The silence from the other end of the phone confirmed her fears. "Oh, God…"
"Cara, I'm so sorry, love. But it was Rick, with some skinny little chav from Whitecourt. I'm sor-" click. Chelsea blinked as the dial tone cut her off. Cara had hung up the phone and run, sobbing, to her couch. She lay there for several minutes, choking back tears and letting out a string of curse words. When she sat back up, she spotted a picture frame sitting peacefully on her mantle. She stood up, walking over to the fireplace and gazed tenderly at it. It was a picture of her and Rick, her boyfriend (?), and her, on a vacation in France last year. He looked so happy with her…
"Okay, okay, come on!" Rick laughed as Cara set up the beeping camera. She giggled, running towards him and waiting for the flash. She couldn't stop smiling as he put an arm around her, chuckling. The flash went off and the two burst into fits of laughter.
"That was horrible!" Cara wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as Rick bent over and clutched his ribs. "I almost missed it!"
Cara shook her head, trying to clear her head of the memories. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She jumped again as the phone rang. "Wotcher."
"Cara. It's me."
Cara's heart pounded in her chest and pure rage struck her hard. She fought to keep her voice level. "Hello, Rick." She said.
"You sound upset." Rick said curiously. "Am I in trouble?"
More than you know, Cara thought venomously. "Yes. So, who is she?" She asked.
"Who's who?" Rick answered stupidly. Cara rolled her eyes.
"Don't pull this innocent crap with me! Chelsea saw you!" She yelled angrily, throwing the picture she held. It smashed against the fireplace, the glass melting in the fire. She heard Rick groan on the other side of the phone.
"What does she have that I don't?" Cara asked, choking back sobs. She could hear a crackling sound – feedback she supposed – then the hardening in his voice when he next spoke. He laughed harshly.
"What does she have? She's thin, young, and beautiful. That's what she has. You're useless, Cara." He said, point-blank.
Cara was almost speechless. She found strength in three words: "Fuck. You. Goodbye." Click. She slammed the phone down and sat back on the couch.
The telly came on suddenly, making Cara jump. She heard random snatches of phrases such as, "Angel", "Dangerous," and "Statue". She looked up through blurry eyes.
"People are warned to avoid all angel statues until this particular species is found and captured. This "Lonely Assassin" – the Weeping Angel, appears as a statue when looked upon, but can vanish if the victim looks away." The attractive newscaster said, shuffling her papers importantly. "Weeping Angels are known to hunt the lonely, desperate, and suicidal. If you see any angel statue that is out of the ordinary, for your own sake, do NOT blink, or run. Carry a phone at all times, and stay where you are, for the sake of your life."
The telly cut off in a flurry of snow and Cara blinked. "That was odd," She muttered to herself. "Must have been a power surge." She stood up and walked towards her back door, to her garden. Maybe she could find some peace there.
When she reached the back door, she froze. Her heart almost stopped.
"I'm…not sure, but I think I didn't have an angel in my garden an hour ago…" She whispered fearfully. She took one step out, then another. She felt her heart pound in her chest. Don't blink, the newscaster had said. Her eyes watered painfully as she kept her eyes fixed on the statue, hands covering its face, wings outspread. Stupidly, she tried talking to it.
"Hello," She whispered, the cleared her throat. "Ah, screw it. I know what you're here for."
Nothing but the whistling wind answered her. Cara's eyes were in too much pain; she blinked and her heart gave a jolt of fear. When she opened her eyes, the angel was still there, in the same spot.
"You didn't move…" She murmured. Why?
Tentatively she blinked again and the angel was gone. Cara gasped and turned, coming face-to-face with the stone statue. Its arms were moved; one eye was still covered by a soft palm, its other perfect eye lowered to match the look of pain and sadness on its face. Crystalline tears slid down its face. Cara felt a tug in her chest and longed to reach up and touch the poor creature's stony visage, to wipe the shining diamonds away. She felt a certain familiarity towards the Angel, like they were kindred spirits in their sadness. One of the Angel's hands was where her shoulder should have been, like it was trying to comfort her.
"Angels cry?" Cara asked, more to herself than anything. She looked at the Angel's perfect body, covered with a flowing robe that, though made of stone, shone somehow in the sunlight. Cara longed to touch this creature of seduction, comfort it. But she knew by the coldness of its eyes it was not what it seemed. Perhaps it was sad, yes, but not in need of comforting. It was in need of killing.
"But is it suicide, or murder, if I want to hold you?" Cara pondered, more to herself than anything. The Angel, unsurprisingly, remained silent. Perhaps it didn't know either...
Cara unconsciously blinked again and the angel had moved closer. Both its arms her waving towards her, reaching as if to say Come with me. I need you. I can help you. Its face pleaded with Cara and she felt another tug.
She sighed. "How long have you been here?" She blinked again and this time, the angel was still there, but pointing at Cara's watch. It had stopped three hours ago, before she'd even started cleaning her garden. It had been there, watching her, the whole time. Cara suppressed a shiver.
"So you know about what's happened." Cara didn't blink, didn't give the Angel time to respond. She knew the answer. Perhaps the angel had been watching her for even longer than today – weeks, months, maybe even years – and only now had it been caught by the public. Only now was she warned of her death. The Angel had finally come to take her away.
…But did she really want to go?
Peace, the wind seemed to whisper to her, in an angelic voice. No more pain. Just peace, love…no pain anymore, you won't ever worry again.
Cara chuckled. "And all I have to do is die, right?" She said sarcastically, blinking again. The Angel was closer, its face imploring and its arms outreached. Cara sighed.
"Lonely Assassin, Weeping Angel…Either name suits you, huh?" Cara asked rhetorically. She blinked, and the Angel held a rose to her. "A rose by any other name…hah, I get it!" Cara laughed. A small smile graced the Angel's stony expression. Cara sighed at the bittersweet face.
"I suppose it would be easy…Just a simple snap, right?" She asked shyly. She looked down for a moment, and then raised her arms, walking unabashedly forwards into the Angel's outstretched arms. She nestled herself into the cold comfort of the Angel's shoulder and closed her eyes. "…Years of abuse. Years of pain, years of putting up with it with a smile on my face…You're right. It would be easier." She sighed.
"Take me away, evil Angel."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the whispering wind running through the trees. Cara felt a shimmering, almost like a kiss on the crown of her head, as if the Angel was easing her fears. It's okay, this won't hurt. No more pain, not ever. She smiled softly. "…I understand. Thank you."
A cracking sound was heard before Cara fell limp, caught only by the soft grass beneath her. Her smile did not fade with her death, only a crystalline tear fell from her left eye. The Angel was once again stone, tightly holding Cara's forlorn body with a soft smile, its hand caressing her cheek gently, comforting the body of a forsaken soul. A fluttering and a soft shimmering in the air moments later was the only evidence it had ever been.
After a few moments, a ringing sound filtered through the open door of her house. A loud beep and a heated male voice came through the receiver: "Cara – Cara? It's me, Rick. Please, pick up. Did you see about the Angel? Please, talk to me. I need you. I'm so, so sorry love. Come back to me….Cara? Cara? Caroline!"
But Cara couldn't answer. She'd found peace in the arms of an Angel.