The cool mid-august air
blanketed the city. The lure of it bright lights seemed to possess a concept of
advertisement.
Althea
Stainthrope walked towards the large window of her hotel room to see the
nocturnal stagnance cladding the city. All was well and quiet. The hotel where
she was was never short of accommodating. She opened the window. The virtually
icy wind caressed her face. Her beautiful long silky hair flew.
She must fulfill
her mission her mission. That urge gave her a sheer sense of purpose.
It
was all she looked for.
It was one of
those peaceful nights that the young man with long curly hair got used to.
Standing on the edge of a towering skyscraper, he looked at the loming moon. He
was veiled in black, mysterious and melancholy. His eyes were sharp but lonely.
He possessed a beautiful crafted face, a face of an angel. Yes! An angel… of
death.
He
had been in the realm of mortals for quite a while now, since Adam and Eve
devoured the forbidden fruit. It was when he was conceived. He was a born of a
mistake, the consequence of the first sin man committed, a child of temptation.
Peace
rode on the wings of the nocturnal air. It was time to move, to feed his
scythe.
The cound of the alarm
clock floode Matt’s room. He a woke from a trance, from a black dream. Escape
was all he wanted . it s something he would never have. Well, at least for now.
He
rose and let the first thread of daylight touch his face. But some of his long
wavy hair prevented its rays from reaching his delocate white skin.
Another
day to waste on his professors and classmates. Another day to be hypocritical!
He
let his half-naked body fallon his bed. Half-asleep, he tried to reach for the
noisy alarm clock, subsequently turning it off. Five minutes more, he would
seep for five more minutes.
Matthew Craighan,
also known as Matt, was one of the most attractive young man one would ever
see. He had a long black wavy hair with a tinge of hazelnut tint, his crowning
glory. The pair of gray eyes wer set to be sharp– could cut through one’s soul–
and mysterious. There was an air of enigma surrounding the young man. His
complexion was white with reddish cheeks and an almost feminine facial feature.
It was mild an soft a texture but the deep-set sharp eyes conveyed enough
masculinity to drive away any notion that he was not man enough.
He stood almost
five nine, with a built close to being skinny…. But not quite. He did not want
to gain any more weight, as though he were destined to be of that physique.
Many
a people described him as someone quiet, but there was something in him that
did not necessarily need to beg for respect. He was feaerd, respected and
admired. The guy was smart. Dead smart. He could outwit almost anyone without
even shedding a sweat. Girls fell for her as though he were a concealed trap.
But he was not interested in them. He liked to be alone, but extended a helping
hand to those who needed it. He was simply a charism incarnate, giving orders
without even opening his mouth. A force to be reckoned with. A superhuman.
But he had a secret, one that was way beyond
human conprehension. His life was a secret itself.
He
opened his eyes and sighed, “that dream again.”
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