Angelica

An eternal hunger. A forgotten love.

One Destiny

Simon watched the rain come down in sheets from his 27th floor window as it cascaded down towards the streets below, pelting awnings, rooftops and creating standing puddles.

“Not a great night for a walk”, he mused, while he watched the sliver of light descend behind the shadows of distant buildings. He turned away from the window, his youthful face, regal posture, and brown curls giving him the look of eighteenth century nobility.

He headed to the second room, which he had converted into an artist's studio, covered with old newspaper and canvases depicting the turmoil of a life that was centuries old.

Ordinarily, Simon would seek solace by sealing himself in this room, quietly filling the empty space with the wounds of his tortured soul. Unfortunately, he could not ignore the painful hunger that gnawed at him from the inside like a parasite threatening to overtake him if he did not take action to sate it.

He steadied himself for a moment, reasserting his self-control and headed out of his apartment

“Mr. Parker?” A voice called out. “You’re goin’ out in this mess? It’s comin’ down in buckets!”

Simon turned and saw old Ms. Franklin and gave her a light smile. “ Always a mother hen”, he thought.

“Yes, I am. Just out for a few things. I’ll be fine, Ms. Franklin. Thank you!”

She nodded her head, eyes warm with concern. “Okay, Mr. Parker. You don’t forget to eat, ya hear?”

He grinned at her, and waved in reply, then boarded the elevator and headed to the lobby.

This building was fairly old according to the records and it really showed it in the small elevator, which descended slowly, shaking slightly on its way down.

By the time it reached floor 15, Simon appeared weaker, leaning against the elevator wall. At that moment, the elevator stopped and a woman entered.

His eyes watched her hungrily, like a predator about to spring, then he turned away, closing his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He forced himself to turn to face her and look upon her round, blue eyes, that seemed to see everything. He opened his mouth several times to speak but stopped for a moment, coughing.

“Oh, yeah.”, he managed to say “I’m just a little hungry, that’s all. Just going out because the cupboard’s bare.”

She stared back, her head tilted slightly as if searching for something.

“How about you?”, he asked, noticing her continued interest, her bright blue eyes, perfectly round, seemingly puncturing his soul. “Are you okay?”

Her lips curled upward in a pleasant smile and laughed. “Oh I’m fine..it’s just…..have we met…..before……?”

He stared back at her face, mesmerised by her almost angelic bearing, like a DaVinci sculpture, but brighter and more radiant.

“Uhhh.. I don’t know,” he replied, his feet shifting, inching slowly to the left,

Clunk!

He felt the elevator come to a complete halt, with a slight bounce and a flickering of lights. The old dial above the doors, showed that they were between floors eight and nine.

He licked his lips slowly, staring at the needle, as if he could force it to move and release him from this……encounter.

“Come on! Move, ya antiquated piece a junk! Move!”, he said softly but forcefully.

She could already see his lips starting to tremble, his normal, almost regal facade visibly cracking as the minutes stretched onward like elastic.

“You’re as white as a sheet! Are you sure you don’t need help?”

He shook his head, and tried to shuffle further away from her, turning his face towards the wall.

“I’m sure help will arrive soon. It won’t be long.”, she murmured softly.

He nodded his head, still with his back turned towards her, staring at the wooden paneling, goosebumps spreading to the back of his neck.

“We really have met before haven’t we?”, she continued, voice light and smooth as silk.

“Hhhhhaaaahhh. I…..I don’t know…..”, he whispered..

“Part of you does recognize me. I know it!”

“Hhhhaaaahh. I………don’t…….know….Aaaaahhhh!”, he uttered as his fangs started to grow in his mouth and his brown locks suddenly showing streaks of grey.

“It’s not the elevator. It’s not that you’re stuck in the elevator. It’s that you’re stuck in the elevator..with me.”

“Kkkkkkkkhhhhhh. I….don’t …….know..

…..what…….you’re……talking ……about…..”

She moved closer to him, slowly, footsteps barely making any sound almost as if she were gliding.

He flinched as she touched him on the shoulder, almost as if her hands had an electric current.

“Nowhere to run, Simon,” she said calmly.

He shook his head quickly as tears started running down his cheeks. His hands, now showing dark blue veins on pale white skin, grabbed his head, pulling down. He shut his eyes, refusing to see the visage before him, ominous as a courtroom gavel and just as inescapable and final.

He opened his eyes and stared at the wall, eyes wide in pure fright, fangs showing in his open mouth.

Wings. There was no mistake. Wings.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”, He croaked. “Please, no!”

“So, you remember now, Simon?”, she said. Her voice was soft, yet it boomed effortlessly. “It was me. I was your first. Your first kiss, your first lover, then your first victim, feeding on me the night of our wedding.”

He curled up in the corner in a fetal position, any pretense stripped away and forgotten, his true self exposed by an angel from on high.

He looked at the wall again. The wings were still there and when she touched him again, he screamed and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

*******************

Beep! Beep! Beep!!

Simon awoke in a panic, shaking the bed covers frantically as the evening twilight shone through the window, comforting him in embrace. His heart pounded in his chest as he pulled himself up to a sitting position, feet touching the polished concrete.

“Whheew!”..

“Must’ve been some kind of dream”, he said aloud. He shambled over to the kitchen, intent on making some coffee, when he saw that a steaming hot mug of coffee had already been made.

Scratching his head and looking around he saw nothing out of the ordinary until his eyes went past the window, where he caught the briefest glimpse of a winged creature, lifting off and riding the earthly winds.

He looked back at the coffee and noticed something else had appeared beside it – a gleaming, white feather, sparkling with its own power.

“Angelica”, he whispered softly, lightly touching the feather with his trembling hands. A single tear slid down the cheek of his finely chiseled face.

He took a sip of the fresh coffee and smiled and headed to the studio, visualizing the silvery brush strokes of his next painting.

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