The Laughing Angel | Teen Ink

The Laughing Angel

February 22, 2010
By Smickles PLATINUM, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
Smickles PLATINUM, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
43 articles 0 photos 43 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is a reason that the people from your past did not make it to your future


The grass was frosty, slightly icy green on their prickly tops. The high moon hung half full over the misty sweet smelling sky and a slight swift breeze fell over the tall red and golden tree tops. The cloudless sky glistened that night like a thousand droplets of cold rain splattered on a window. It was a dream, a fairy tale. the perfect night for a first kiss, or trembling lips whispering passions; a perfect night for making love in front of a crackling fire place, or even taking a stroll down a long dark lane sitting slightly in the middle of a small set of slides and a bicycle rack in which they called a park. On a night such as that night, dreams were meant to be had and secrets were meant to be shared, and yet there still sat a young girl at the edge of a small rectangular marble stone, tears spraying from the edges of her small bright sea eyes.

A small girl in more ways than one, she was quite pretty, with natural strawberry blonde hair-even if dyed slightly darker- made her pale pastel white skin gleam in the shining moon. The stars glistened in the droplets of salt streaming down her cheeks. Her hands clasped together in a fist, shaking on her lap. Her thick Carmel fur colored coat rustled as she dirtied it on the rustling leaves, but that went unnoticed by the small woman. Her grief was to overwhelming to pay attention to the abundance that she held just on the small of her back. This woman had an easy life; everything had always been handed to her, as it was now. Having not changed much since high school, she was still overwhelmed with any more problems than her own, and she had not given the girl who lay under the ground beneath her the time of day. One of the first times this woman was not concentrated on something other than herself, it was already too late.

He sat strolling in the park by the whooshing river. His large hands sitting in the pockets of his khaki shorts, his crisp whistle echoing through the night. He was enjoying the tenderness of the night, feeling the breeze clasp to his shoulders and rub his face. His short wavy brown hair swept up in the wind, and he placed his tan hands to the back of his neck, bothered. He believed it to be a sweet night, one that he could not miss. His need for enjoyment had always haunted him; he had never been very easily pleased. Still, the wisp of the river calmed him, and every step he took he remembered particular sweetness’s of a long lost something. He kneaded his forehead in rhythm to the rustle of leaves, and found a place to sit tenderly on the frosted grass. He stroked his thick calves, and clasped his muscular arms tightly together. He did not cry; there was not even a sigh that erupted from the purse of his lips. His memories had been from so long ago. Although he did feel a slight nagging to the tug of his heart; the sweet memories filled his mind along with the thick smell and the chill of the bracing river throwing misty droplets towards the open- starry sky.
There was no pleasant night for him; instead, clouds of agony portrayed through thick sunlight, shadows crept upon large spots of white. Silver to his wrist, smoke to his lungs, anything that would make him believe that death was the very thing he was pursuing. His gold wedding ring flashed in the dark silver light in which he breathed in now. ‘Death do us part…’ beeping in the back of his mind like an alarm that he couldn’t shut off, and all this did was create more pain. More pain, more anguish. His tousled dark brown hair and black eyes glinted dangerously onto the ticking clock. His bloody wrists and empty house was just a reminder of what had gone missing. The laughter that once rooted the foundation of love was broken away. The shriveled green of painted walls held no more happiness. The sleigh dark cherry wood bed that held so many wondrous nights no longer kept him joyful. He slept on the couch, sleeping with a simple white cotton blanket, using his large fingers as a pillow. Even that would bring hurt, as it was a constant reminder of the joy that his dead wife had found in the tiniest things. even the fact that his hands was twice the size as hers, had made her smile lovingly, her brown eyes sparkling as they always did when she had smiled. He stood slowly, balancing his frail body on the light wood table that held his weight. He used his other hand to wipe his soggy face holding his breath, only to fall back in his chair and hunch back over the table to weep some more.
Showers had no affect on this man, if he was capable of being called such. He would not cry as the burning water soaked his skin, nor would he cry when the woman he was with at the moment -the one with the bright blonde hair and deep green eyes- gave him exactly what he had wanted, and he gave her exactly what she wanted. Her moans were the loudest, after all. He would also not cry as he looked upon his small wife that night, holding her in his arms, petting her hair (dyed to be darker then the strawberry blonde that it was naturally) and whispering lies in the crook of her neck. Everything would not be okay, and he knew that. He would, however, cry once his wife had gone to sleep still whimpering in her dreams, as he pulled his long legs onto the leather interior of the sink in couch. he would cry, however, as he flipped his 100 inch TV in his own personal home theater, watching a home made video of his wife and the dead woman that slept beneath the ground on the screen. He would cry, as he looked in the mirror at his dark black shriveled hair, his long nose that covered most of his face, his thin pink lips and lastly his thickly lashed sky blue eyes that had brought him so many woman. He’d sing to himself lyrics to the song You are my sunshine, while grasping the edge of the white porcelain sink, heaving, sighing, sobbing. He had promised his wife that she had been dead to his heart for many years, her soft luscious auburn hair, and her dark small brown eyes. Her tinkering laugh; her unforgettable smile. He reached with one long, hairy arm towards the pool sized shower, and switched on the temperature that he had set into it. He slipped of his pajama pants, an entered into the bustling of the spray. Never, washing, jut shaking. Just crying, just regretting. the only sunshine that he had ever found in his life, the only girl that had ever truly made him smile; the only woman who could make him happy twenty- four-seven lay in that grave. He had made his choice, he should be happy that the girl he had abandoned lay dead, but his heart still ached… and he still cried.

She laughed at a crisp whistle that echoed through the park, smiling as the wind played with her auburn hair; her small brown eyes were curled in amusement. She wore a bright light colored robe which draped her shoulders perfectly, caressing the arch of her chest and the small of her back. On her back sat a soft pile of feathers, a yellow cream color that danced in the wind, but we’re not capable for flying. A tight gold chain that never stopped glistening tied them together, and the only thing that could break them apart was a mystery to the dead girl who owned them. She sat on a large gray rock, her hands sitting palms down to the back of her; her bare foot swinging to and fro with the rhythm of the rushing wind, and the crickets call. Her face made slight indents as she pondered how to break the forbidden tangle of the chains. The magnificence of the night was quite a distraction, for every little thing was beautiful in the eyes of this girl.

Soon, it would be dawn. She could see the specks of daylight breaking upon the horizon. She smiled a large white smiley, a toothy grin played across her face. She stared upon the rising sun, her face red, her lips pink, her eyes golden; and she remembered. She remembered her best friend, the red headed and the witty. She remembered her first love, and the sweetness they once had shared. She remembered her husband… a good man, who treated her well. They had never stopped laughing together; and she remembered her hardships. The sky blue that ran through her mind as she spotted the first glimpse of sunshine. She remembered, she forgot, and then she laughed. She laughed loud, letting it tinker throughout the park, throughout the city, and throughout the hearts of all the people who loved her. She threw her hands into the moist air, as if beckoning the beauty she saw around her inside. She closed her dark eyes, and smiled a small smile; and just as the night, her golden chain fell off her cream colored wings, and she disappeared into the sky forever. Her laughter still ringing inside broken hearts. The laughing angel who was never to be forgotten.

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