Angel
Part One: Kaireku (Cae-reh-coo): Lower Egypt
Lovely.
Something he would never get, yet he absolutely adored. .
A rose. A stunningly white, pure rose.
The boy felt his heartbeat in his ears.
Simply gorgeous.
Two weeks now, he had been running away from the shack to see this flower. It was so beautiful, so heart achingly white. Amazing.
Not that the boy wasn't a scientific wonder himself. Infact, he was quiet famous for his extraordinary looks. His short white hair was messily cut into straight side bangs –while the rest of his hair was fuzzy-framing the outline of his pale face perfectly. Underneath the bangs were sharp, piercing eyes; one a lazy hazel and the other the menacing color of dark blood. He was tall and slim, his skin was like milk- smooth and fine- and his sharp features were always filled with lust; from the athlete's legs, broken white finger nails, to the sharp, crooked mouth. His teeth were aligned and perfectly straight with slight fangs curling gently at the sides. His face expression was sternly fixed to a monotonous, bored look, and when something annoyed him, he bared his teeth every so slightly- clearly out of unconscious instinct.
Indeed, he wasn't a normal child.
Rumor had it that he was a child born into death, but not much was known about this peculiar boy. He had a sister, some said, and he lived in 'the shack'- a small, shaggy house that people believed was 'haunted'.
No one knew much about the albino until the day he began to stop at the flower shop.
He came at exactly the same time and exactly the same spot every day. Some people came to the shop at that time to purposely see him. Others bumped into him on the way out and were in daze for a week.
But nobody knew why. Nobody cared enough to actually try and find out what the boy was looking at. Not that it mattered, really. To adults he was merely a strange, pitiful boy checking out flowers for a girl he liked. For children, he was just a freak show to be ignored.
It didn't matter where he came from, and frankly, he didn't care either.
He only cared about the rose and how white it was.
White. So white.
The boy fingered the delicate petals on the rose carefully, barely touching the smooth substance as he let his fingers swim freely. He gasped as he felt the rose twisting softly under his touch.
Then the boy would abruptly stand up and leave.
Usually he was seen wandering around mindlessly.
But today, he had a destination.
