Rise of the Dark Angel

The room is dim, with no lights to brighten except the rays of the moon beaming its way through the window that is ajar. Wind tossing the curtains. The shadow of the leaves play as the wind blows making silhouette figures dancing to no tune. Across the room, crouched in the furthermost corner a soul sobs. Abandoned. Innocence shattered by another souls with no kindness except to fulfill its selfish desires. Taking the very best out of its victim. Clothes tattered, crimson stains the area where it was splattered. Everything in disarray. The soul's tears dies down into sobs then into silence. Slowly he stands, staring blankly into nothingness, eyes focused on one thing as if he is engrossed by it. Determined. Face emotionless. He started moving towards the window. He used every energy and courage that is left of him. As he draws closer to the open, sudden chills encompassed him as the cold breeze enters the room. Slowly he pushed the window panes outside, tuck the curtain in in one of the windows, welcoming the sweet aroma of the night. Ahhhh refreshing... cleansing every stain and mark that have been engraved. He opened his eyes, saw the big bright moon just directly over him. The moon's light is not fierce, unlike the burning sun... instead it's so calm... serene... invigorating. He stretched his arms wide enough as if accepting all that is in space... drawing its energy into his own. Life-giving. He was energized. Back into fullness again. Stigmas rubbed out of him. Satisfying. Except for the stains that are seen. He closed the window. After regaining strength he still need to clean himself up. He went into the shower, turned the knob and the water splashed its way down washing away the tinge that the other soul left him. Refreshing. The water strips off all the ugliness and guilt that he felt. When he was done, he warmed himself up with a towel. Went back into his room and arranged the things misplaced by what had just happened. When he was done, the room is perfect. Neat and tidy. He turned the lights on and the room came into life. Every color reflected gives vigor to the room that has once been a witness to the cruelty of the human's darkest soul. The day is long. He lay himself down drowsing himself off to the sound made in the night. Sweet. Slowly his eyes closed... his mind wandered into the ethereal. Tomorrow is another day. For now, just rest. Rest for the wicked soul reborn out of strife and the frailties of the human emotions. The game has started and tomorrow, the debts will be collected, life taken will be regained by the death of another soul. Tomorrow is the day of reckoning. The day of vengeance for the sinful and the wicked and reward for the faithful...

*part 1 of the chronicles of the dark angel.