Icarus

Freeze

  Freeze

He felt the tears of an angel falling on his eyes, cheeks and lips; each drop feeling like a cold needle piercing his face. Tate expected the touch of an angel to be warm, like a kind welcoming to the afterlife; it never occurred to him that icy hands would grab him like a kidnapper–he never thought the weeping angel's fingers would be frigid and its breath would smell like alcohol.  

"Hey... hey, wake up! Wake up!"

The weeping angel's touch rocked his body like an 9.0 earthquake. His eyes couldn't focus; it was like watching a train fly by and trying to make out details. He did see mountains, the white sheets covering them and the birds on trees humming a sad lullaby. He saw the wet grass, the trees, his hands and someone holding him...but she wasn't an angel, and those weren't tears.

"I—"

Even with the burning sensation in his throat and the hoarse voice, he realized he wasn't the one talking, it wasn't his voice, it wasn't his body.

"Rowan, I thought you died."

  The visual train wreck didn't stop until he looked into her eyes. Her Helen-of-Troy face, one you could never forget, had every possible emotion carved into her stare...deep and clear like she had answers to all the mysteries of the world  

When his reality and dreams began to intertwine, he thought he'd seen her, someone, something on the other side of the moving train, but those images he saw, he couldn't describe.

 "Anya?"

He tasted her name as it left his mouth, and it was bittersweet. He recovered all his senses a second after, just when he realized snow covered half of his body. He could still felt everything but his legs were numb from the cold. Freezing, the other half of his body was naked.

"You scared me to death, Rowan. Don't do that ever again."

Her big brown eyes were shining and he saw himself in the black, deep reflection pools they created. His face felt like a mask. Whose were those green eyes, thin lips. and sharp nose. That wasn't him, it couldn't be.

Tate got up, confused as to why Anya used another name, why he was standing in the middle of the forest half naked and sweating despite the cold. As to why, he thought an angel came to guide him to the afterlife when the day came that he actually died.

The closest thing he had to an angel was Cassie. Her name echoed in his head and hear as he felt the freezing cold burning him with aching pain, reminiscent of that night at the festival's tent.

"Cassie!" he began to yell to no one in particular..."Cassie!"

He looked at the stranger, arms folded, kneeling on the soaked grass. She looked at him with doll-like eyes, her brows furrowed and her mouth open. She mumbled something Tate couldn't hear.

"Cassie!"

His legs where so weak, but he kept moving forward. His throat hurt, his eyes, his arms. His voice broke and soon tears were streaming down his face.

"Cassie! Cassie...Cass..."

Desperation and fright embraced him like old enemies finally making up. He couldn't feel his heart but it was beating so fast. He couldn't feel the air in his lungs, but somehow he was alive. He was alive because of the curse. He was alive so he would continue to suffer.

His knees finally gave out, as did his voice. The hands of Anya held him up while he kept on repeating the name of the lover he he'd lost.

Like a candle's flame flickering in a brisk wind just before being blown out, he had only the strength to complete his sentence..."I—I love you."

He didn't know how Anya reacted. The last thing he remembered was being held by her and feeling her hands wiping away his tears.

Tate became the weeping angel and the life he had before that moment was gone with the wind like the speeding train.

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oh god oh god I actually updated this, is a miracle! I'm still kind of lost as to where I'm taking this story to, one thing I can tell you tho: is gonna get dark... and the tragic parts are coming soon too.

*evil laughs*

Vote and comment what you think! <3

xxMad