Bonjour, Mon Fanatiques! Here's the first chapter of "Of Angels
and Demons." This chapter may be a bit confusing, so pay attention to the
stars (***********) these mean that it is a different place and a different
point of view; although the entire story is in third person, it is in a
third person omniscient point of view, meaning that I can give you a
persons thoughts in first person without having quotations around it. (The
wonders of English Literature class!)
Anyway, here is the first chapter of my interesting work of fiction.
Jouir!
Ciao!
Fairieimp
*****************************************************************
Of Angels and Demons: Chapter One
******************************************************************
Disclaimer: This is the disclaimer for this entire fiction. I put it here, because, though this story has little or nothing to do with the Sailor Moon manga or anime and the prologue had nothing to do with Sailor Moon either, I decided to base it off of the "forbidden lovers" picture (ami/zoicite, mina/malachite, mako/nephrite, rei/jadeite, and usa/mamo). I figured that it was the only way that I could really get this story read so. here it is. Neither sailor Moon nor any of its characters or themes belongs to me, but every thing else in this fiction does. Hein?
*********************************************************************
She woke with a start and glanced at the clock. 3:57 a.m. She sat up and determined that it would be hopeless to try to get back to sleep. Her pale blue nightgown clung to the cold sweat on her body. She couldn't remember the dream she had, but she figured that it was a bad one.
She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair. She had put navy and turquoise blue highlights in it two years ago and kept them because she, and the rest of her colleagues, thought that they gave her an exotic look.
Then the realization that she was sent here with the highlights hits her and it hurts that her memory is nothing but a ploy for the Devil.
She sighs, get up, and goes into the kitchen of her small urban apartment to fix herself a pot of coffee. Still over twelve hours till work, she sighs as she sits in her favorite chair and picks up a book.
It is the seventh book in Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles. Merrick is the name of the book and she thought that Anne Rice was one of the greatest writers of all time. In short, the book was about the vampire David Talbot's encounters with an old colleague named Merrick, who is a voodoo witch, and how he tries to get her to raise the dead spirit of a dead vampire named Claudia for a vampire named Louis. She had been reading the series over the times that she had went to earth by herself.
She starts reading as the smell of fresh coffee permeates the air. Fifteen minutes, and thirty-five pages later, she gets up and fixes herself a cup of black coffee and resumes her reading.
***********
His eyes slowly blinked open; the sun shining in through the big bay window filled the small bedroom with a harsh yellow-orange light. He glanced at his clock. 9:20 a.m. Work begins in three hours and ten minutes, he thought.
He got out of bed, took a twenty minute shower, and got dressed. He glanced in the mirror. Mid-shoulder length strawberry blond curls pulled back into a signature low ponytail accented dark green eyes, sharp, handsome facial features, and tanned skin. His body was modestly muscular and lean underneath a black t-shirt and a pair of olive drab khakis.
My first day on earth on a special mission, he thought sarcastically, and I have to work. He was a painter and a graphic designer. He worked out of his own office and painted the pictures and sculptures that people ordered from him. Two of his works were in the Smithsonian Museum of Art and several more were scattered in various worldwide museums and private art collections; He had even appeared on the cover of Time and various others. He didn't like the fame, but he accepted it as what the Lord had given him and went on with life.
He walked to work, it took longer than driving, but it helped with his mission, and he was in a good mood. Several people talked to him and he took a mental note of their names and faces.
He picked up the copy of the day's newspaper. What's happening on Friday, he thought as he skimmed through the headlines and walked into the office where he worked.
"Maggie?" He asked aloud, wondering if his secretary was in yet.
An old woman with white hair and a kind face, wearing a purple dress entered the room. "Yes, Mr. Cagle?"
"How many new orders are in?" He asked, and then added: "Haven't I told you to call me Zavier?"
"Four new ones, sir, and the postal office broke another one of your marble blocks and several pots of paint," She said with a sigh. "Don't those people understand the meaning of the word 'Fragile'?"
Zavier sighed to himself, another four hundred dollars down the drain. "Maggie?"
"Yes, Zavier?" She asked with a sarcastic emphasis on 'Zavier.'
Zavier rolled his eyes impatiently, "Next time, ship my supplies with UPS, not FedEx."
***********
She jumped when the phone rang. She sat down her book and answered the phone.
"Hello?" She asked into the receiver.
"Amie, I need you to do me a favor," and ecstatic female voice said.
"Anything for you, Mina, just calm down," Amie replied.
Mina sounded exasperated with her, but more excited, "Mal just proposed to me!"
"Malachi?!" Amie was startled.
"God, girl, those are my ears!" Mina's sarcastic albeit frustrated voice said.
"Sorry. What do you need a favor for?"
"I need you to call the bridal place and schedule a time for us and the rest of the girls to try on dresses."
"Why are we trying on dresses?" Amie asked confused.
Mina sighed, "Bridesmaids? I told you that you were going to be the maid of honor and that you were going to have to help me plan it didn't I? We have to go pick out dresses."
"Sorry, Mina, you know my memory. I'll call the bridal shop. How's noon on Tuesday?"
"Sounds great, I'll tell the rest of the gang," Mina said enthusiastically, "Wedding is on Saturday, February fifth. That gives us just about three months, seeing that today is the thirteenth of November. Do you think that that is enough time?"
"It's plenty of time, Mina. Remember how Rayegan had us plan her wedding in two weeks and we still had four days to do what we wanted? Three months is more than enough time," Amie said reminiscing.
"Well, yeah, you're right. But when are you going to find a-wait-you don't want to commit, it would force you to quit stripping and posing for Playboy. don't you think that you've lived enough of that kind of life? I mean, you're-what-twenty-four? Don't you want to settle down and have a family?"
Amie laughed, "Mina, don't worry about me, when the right guy comes along, that guy will obviously be "the one" and then you can help me plan my wedding."
"Alright, I'll talk to you later, Ames."
"Bye, Mina."
"See ya'!"
She set the phone down on the cradle and looked at the clock. 1:42 p.m. She turned on the television to see the rest of the one o'clock news.
"Marvin Carrei was found, with a gunshot wound to his left temple, dead in his hotel suite this morning at around ten a.m." A reporter was saying, "Authorities say that he committed suicide with the Beretta that he had bought an illegal silencer for."
Amie clicked off the television and smiled to herself, "Too bad, he was good pay."
She took a long relaxing bath, complete with calming classical music, candles, and fragrant bubbles. It was 3:08 p.m. when she got out of the back and got dressed.
Amie stood in front of the full length mirror hung on the back of her bedroom door admiring the clothes that she had put on.
Her blue streaked black hair was up in a sloppy bun and a few pieces fell to frame her thin, pale, feminine face. Dark cobalt blue eyes lined in black stared back at her critically from her reflection. She had on a black turtleneck sweater, a pair of blue jeans, and blue-white running shoes.
She picked up her keys and purse and went out the door, her thoughts focused on her method of murder.
***********
"Zavier?" A mans voice called from the front of the office.
Zavier rolled his eyes and brushed a strawberry blonde curl behind his ear, "What do you want Nathaniel?"
A tall man with long, wavy brown hair in an Armani suit stepped in the doorway, "For the last time Z, call me 'Nate.' It's not that hard."
Zavier grinned, "Alright, Nate, what is it that you had to barge in here and almost make me fuck up this painting?"
Nate rolled his eyes and leaned back against the doorframe, not risking getting paint thrown at him and ruining his suit, "There is one thing I will never understand about you."
"What's that?"
"How you can be working on a painting or sculpture and listen to heavy metal all at the same time and not mess your work up all to hell."
"It's quite easy actually. God gave me a gift, and unlike some people, I can focus on one thing. The music is just white noise, it helps me work," Zavier said simply, causing Nathaniel to let out an exasperated sigh.
"Honestly, Z, one of these days you're going to get so in to that music that you're gonna fuck up one of those beautiful works of art, but the reason I'm here is to see if you wanted to go get a drink with me and Malachi tonight. You know he proposed to Mina today."
"Not tonight," Zavier sighed, "I've got too much work to do; I'm backed up four orders and absolutely have to get those in tonight. And I have to do some paper work for the postal office, because they don't fucking seem to understand the meaning of the word 'Fragile.'"
Nathaniel laughed, "How about I bring you a bottle of Smirnoff or something?"
"That works, maybe I can drink myself into oblivion or something," Z said with a smile as he returned to his painting. "Thanks, Nate."
"Sorry, but I've got a meeting with the Board in twenty minutes. I'm co-CEO of Raeburn Enterprises. I've gotta book it."
"Bye, Nate."
"I'll be back here around seven."
"Alright," Zavier replied absent mindedly, already engrossed in his painting and didn't even hear Nathaniel leave.
***********
Amie walked into the club twenty minutes before her shift started. It was Friday night and someone was bound to recognize her and want to bed her.
"Sky!" A familiar female voice called her alias behind her.
"Damn, Dana, you're actually early," Amie gasped sardonically as she turned around to face the woman. "Jordan not giving you enough action to satisfy you?"
Dana glared at her playfully, "For your information, she wasn't feeling well today. I wanted to stay home with her, but she was determined that I come to work."
Dana was a thin woman of twenty-two. She had short dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She had caramel colored skin and a beautiful face. She was the only bisexual stripper in the place.
"Sorry to hear that, Dana, tell her to get well soon for me," Amie said seriously. Jordan was a good woman in Amie's eyes, though how Dana could see Jordan in a sexual manner was beyond her. Jordan was beautiful, but she had no redeeming qualities.
Amie walked to the bar, and ordered herself a shot of tequila. Since she was an employee, the drink was free.
After finishing the drink, she went back to her dressing room and put on a black faux leather bra and the matching thong. She was in a kinky mood.
As she stepped on the stage in her black stilettos, she knew she wasn't ready to kill, as she felt every time.
At 11:09 p.m. the curtains opened to a throng of men, (and a few women), with money in hand.
***********
Nathaniel had been punctual and Zavier was now close to drunk. Nathaniel had brought him two of the largest Smirnoff bottles he had ever seen, filled to the brim with vodka. He had finished one of the bottles and started on the second.
Good thing I have a bed in this office, he thought as he collapsed into a drunken sleep.
***********
The man was well dressed and had paid three hundred dollars to bed her. He had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. His features weren't handsome, but they were okay, his musculature made up for that. Not that it mattered much; she was just going to kill him.
"So what's your name?" Amie asked nonchalantly.
"Garrett Bekam," the man said, lust filling all of his drunken voice.
She led him into a room of the hotel she had driven to and opened one of the doors. She took him inside and kissed him. Garrett responded immediately, his tongue pushing hungrily into her mouth.
She moaned softly as she reached into her bra and pulled out a switchblade knife.
Amie pulled him closer to her, stabbed the razor-sharp blade into his chest strait into his heart, and pulled it out quickly.
His startled cry was muffled, both by her lips on his, and by the blood already filling his lungs.
Amie broke the kiss, wiped the switchblade on his jacket, put it back into her bra, and dropped the dying Garrett on the floor. She walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
The black P.T. Cruiser was waiting just outside and seemed to call to her. Amie got into the Cruiser and drover away.
"That was easier than I thought," she said to herself as the hotel disappeared behind her.
***********************************************************************
Alright, that was the end of chapter one. I hope you liked it. I know there are a lot of controversial things in this work of fiction, but this is my baby, and if you don't like it, don't read it.
Adieu!
fairieimp
Please review!
Anyway, here is the first chapter of my interesting work of fiction.
Jouir!
Ciao!
Fairieimp
*****************************************************************
Of Angels and Demons: Chapter One
******************************************************************
Disclaimer: This is the disclaimer for this entire fiction. I put it here, because, though this story has little or nothing to do with the Sailor Moon manga or anime and the prologue had nothing to do with Sailor Moon either, I decided to base it off of the "forbidden lovers" picture (ami/zoicite, mina/malachite, mako/nephrite, rei/jadeite, and usa/mamo). I figured that it was the only way that I could really get this story read so. here it is. Neither sailor Moon nor any of its characters or themes belongs to me, but every thing else in this fiction does. Hein?
*********************************************************************
She woke with a start and glanced at the clock. 3:57 a.m. She sat up and determined that it would be hopeless to try to get back to sleep. Her pale blue nightgown clung to the cold sweat on her body. She couldn't remember the dream she had, but she figured that it was a bad one.
She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair. She had put navy and turquoise blue highlights in it two years ago and kept them because she, and the rest of her colleagues, thought that they gave her an exotic look.
Then the realization that she was sent here with the highlights hits her and it hurts that her memory is nothing but a ploy for the Devil.
She sighs, get up, and goes into the kitchen of her small urban apartment to fix herself a pot of coffee. Still over twelve hours till work, she sighs as she sits in her favorite chair and picks up a book.
It is the seventh book in Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles. Merrick is the name of the book and she thought that Anne Rice was one of the greatest writers of all time. In short, the book was about the vampire David Talbot's encounters with an old colleague named Merrick, who is a voodoo witch, and how he tries to get her to raise the dead spirit of a dead vampire named Claudia for a vampire named Louis. She had been reading the series over the times that she had went to earth by herself.
She starts reading as the smell of fresh coffee permeates the air. Fifteen minutes, and thirty-five pages later, she gets up and fixes herself a cup of black coffee and resumes her reading.
***********
His eyes slowly blinked open; the sun shining in through the big bay window filled the small bedroom with a harsh yellow-orange light. He glanced at his clock. 9:20 a.m. Work begins in three hours and ten minutes, he thought.
He got out of bed, took a twenty minute shower, and got dressed. He glanced in the mirror. Mid-shoulder length strawberry blond curls pulled back into a signature low ponytail accented dark green eyes, sharp, handsome facial features, and tanned skin. His body was modestly muscular and lean underneath a black t-shirt and a pair of olive drab khakis.
My first day on earth on a special mission, he thought sarcastically, and I have to work. He was a painter and a graphic designer. He worked out of his own office and painted the pictures and sculptures that people ordered from him. Two of his works were in the Smithsonian Museum of Art and several more were scattered in various worldwide museums and private art collections; He had even appeared on the cover of Time and various others. He didn't like the fame, but he accepted it as what the Lord had given him and went on with life.
He walked to work, it took longer than driving, but it helped with his mission, and he was in a good mood. Several people talked to him and he took a mental note of their names and faces.
He picked up the copy of the day's newspaper. What's happening on Friday, he thought as he skimmed through the headlines and walked into the office where he worked.
"Maggie?" He asked aloud, wondering if his secretary was in yet.
An old woman with white hair and a kind face, wearing a purple dress entered the room. "Yes, Mr. Cagle?"
"How many new orders are in?" He asked, and then added: "Haven't I told you to call me Zavier?"
"Four new ones, sir, and the postal office broke another one of your marble blocks and several pots of paint," She said with a sigh. "Don't those people understand the meaning of the word 'Fragile'?"
Zavier sighed to himself, another four hundred dollars down the drain. "Maggie?"
"Yes, Zavier?" She asked with a sarcastic emphasis on 'Zavier.'
Zavier rolled his eyes impatiently, "Next time, ship my supplies with UPS, not FedEx."
***********
She jumped when the phone rang. She sat down her book and answered the phone.
"Hello?" She asked into the receiver.
"Amie, I need you to do me a favor," and ecstatic female voice said.
"Anything for you, Mina, just calm down," Amie replied.
Mina sounded exasperated with her, but more excited, "Mal just proposed to me!"
"Malachi?!" Amie was startled.
"God, girl, those are my ears!" Mina's sarcastic albeit frustrated voice said.
"Sorry. What do you need a favor for?"
"I need you to call the bridal place and schedule a time for us and the rest of the girls to try on dresses."
"Why are we trying on dresses?" Amie asked confused.
Mina sighed, "Bridesmaids? I told you that you were going to be the maid of honor and that you were going to have to help me plan it didn't I? We have to go pick out dresses."
"Sorry, Mina, you know my memory. I'll call the bridal shop. How's noon on Tuesday?"
"Sounds great, I'll tell the rest of the gang," Mina said enthusiastically, "Wedding is on Saturday, February fifth. That gives us just about three months, seeing that today is the thirteenth of November. Do you think that that is enough time?"
"It's plenty of time, Mina. Remember how Rayegan had us plan her wedding in two weeks and we still had four days to do what we wanted? Three months is more than enough time," Amie said reminiscing.
"Well, yeah, you're right. But when are you going to find a-wait-you don't want to commit, it would force you to quit stripping and posing for Playboy. don't you think that you've lived enough of that kind of life? I mean, you're-what-twenty-four? Don't you want to settle down and have a family?"
Amie laughed, "Mina, don't worry about me, when the right guy comes along, that guy will obviously be "the one" and then you can help me plan my wedding."
"Alright, I'll talk to you later, Ames."
"Bye, Mina."
"See ya'!"
She set the phone down on the cradle and looked at the clock. 1:42 p.m. She turned on the television to see the rest of the one o'clock news.
"Marvin Carrei was found, with a gunshot wound to his left temple, dead in his hotel suite this morning at around ten a.m." A reporter was saying, "Authorities say that he committed suicide with the Beretta that he had bought an illegal silencer for."
Amie clicked off the television and smiled to herself, "Too bad, he was good pay."
She took a long relaxing bath, complete with calming classical music, candles, and fragrant bubbles. It was 3:08 p.m. when she got out of the back and got dressed.
Amie stood in front of the full length mirror hung on the back of her bedroom door admiring the clothes that she had put on.
Her blue streaked black hair was up in a sloppy bun and a few pieces fell to frame her thin, pale, feminine face. Dark cobalt blue eyes lined in black stared back at her critically from her reflection. She had on a black turtleneck sweater, a pair of blue jeans, and blue-white running shoes.
She picked up her keys and purse and went out the door, her thoughts focused on her method of murder.
***********
"Zavier?" A mans voice called from the front of the office.
Zavier rolled his eyes and brushed a strawberry blonde curl behind his ear, "What do you want Nathaniel?"
A tall man with long, wavy brown hair in an Armani suit stepped in the doorway, "For the last time Z, call me 'Nate.' It's not that hard."
Zavier grinned, "Alright, Nate, what is it that you had to barge in here and almost make me fuck up this painting?"
Nate rolled his eyes and leaned back against the doorframe, not risking getting paint thrown at him and ruining his suit, "There is one thing I will never understand about you."
"What's that?"
"How you can be working on a painting or sculpture and listen to heavy metal all at the same time and not mess your work up all to hell."
"It's quite easy actually. God gave me a gift, and unlike some people, I can focus on one thing. The music is just white noise, it helps me work," Zavier said simply, causing Nathaniel to let out an exasperated sigh.
"Honestly, Z, one of these days you're going to get so in to that music that you're gonna fuck up one of those beautiful works of art, but the reason I'm here is to see if you wanted to go get a drink with me and Malachi tonight. You know he proposed to Mina today."
"Not tonight," Zavier sighed, "I've got too much work to do; I'm backed up four orders and absolutely have to get those in tonight. And I have to do some paper work for the postal office, because they don't fucking seem to understand the meaning of the word 'Fragile.'"
Nathaniel laughed, "How about I bring you a bottle of Smirnoff or something?"
"That works, maybe I can drink myself into oblivion or something," Z said with a smile as he returned to his painting. "Thanks, Nate."
"Sorry, but I've got a meeting with the Board in twenty minutes. I'm co-CEO of Raeburn Enterprises. I've gotta book it."
"Bye, Nate."
"I'll be back here around seven."
"Alright," Zavier replied absent mindedly, already engrossed in his painting and didn't even hear Nathaniel leave.
***********
Amie walked into the club twenty minutes before her shift started. It was Friday night and someone was bound to recognize her and want to bed her.
"Sky!" A familiar female voice called her alias behind her.
"Damn, Dana, you're actually early," Amie gasped sardonically as she turned around to face the woman. "Jordan not giving you enough action to satisfy you?"
Dana glared at her playfully, "For your information, she wasn't feeling well today. I wanted to stay home with her, but she was determined that I come to work."
Dana was a thin woman of twenty-two. She had short dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She had caramel colored skin and a beautiful face. She was the only bisexual stripper in the place.
"Sorry to hear that, Dana, tell her to get well soon for me," Amie said seriously. Jordan was a good woman in Amie's eyes, though how Dana could see Jordan in a sexual manner was beyond her. Jordan was beautiful, but she had no redeeming qualities.
Amie walked to the bar, and ordered herself a shot of tequila. Since she was an employee, the drink was free.
After finishing the drink, she went back to her dressing room and put on a black faux leather bra and the matching thong. She was in a kinky mood.
As she stepped on the stage in her black stilettos, she knew she wasn't ready to kill, as she felt every time.
At 11:09 p.m. the curtains opened to a throng of men, (and a few women), with money in hand.
***********
Nathaniel had been punctual and Zavier was now close to drunk. Nathaniel had brought him two of the largest Smirnoff bottles he had ever seen, filled to the brim with vodka. He had finished one of the bottles and started on the second.
Good thing I have a bed in this office, he thought as he collapsed into a drunken sleep.
***********
The man was well dressed and had paid three hundred dollars to bed her. He had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. His features weren't handsome, but they were okay, his musculature made up for that. Not that it mattered much; she was just going to kill him.
"So what's your name?" Amie asked nonchalantly.
"Garrett Bekam," the man said, lust filling all of his drunken voice.
She led him into a room of the hotel she had driven to and opened one of the doors. She took him inside and kissed him. Garrett responded immediately, his tongue pushing hungrily into her mouth.
She moaned softly as she reached into her bra and pulled out a switchblade knife.
Amie pulled him closer to her, stabbed the razor-sharp blade into his chest strait into his heart, and pulled it out quickly.
His startled cry was muffled, both by her lips on his, and by the blood already filling his lungs.
Amie broke the kiss, wiped the switchblade on his jacket, put it back into her bra, and dropped the dying Garrett on the floor. She walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
The black P.T. Cruiser was waiting just outside and seemed to call to her. Amie got into the Cruiser and drover away.
"That was easier than I thought," she said to herself as the hotel disappeared behind her.
***********************************************************************
Alright, that was the end of chapter one. I hope you liked it. I know there are a lot of controversial things in this work of fiction, but this is my baby, and if you don't like it, don't read it.
Adieu!
fairieimp
Please review!