Angels Of Black Heaven

CHAPTER FIVE

book one: Ethereal Icarus

            Althea Stainthorpe was a lady who was directed by her head and not by her heart. She would not let her emotions get in her way. A conduction- driven female.  Almost all of her actions were consulted to the philosophy she held the dear, and she was not ever let down by it.Nothing in this world would go wrong if everyone trust their heads, she once mused. If any human attributes would be attached to her, perhaps it was the word philosophic. Inborn to her was an unwavering point of view; she was a great thinker, like Matthew, even if she would not admit it aloud. She approved every human philosophy that seemed poetic, good and justifiable and denounced otherwise. Anything that feels short of nod worthy was rebuked. She was aware that the realities that confined the material world was only a fraction of the truth that she knew and believe God, though it couldn't be considered faith- the leaning the unseen. She could hear God's voice directly.

            The mental aspect of her being proved to be one of her greatest weapon. But, unbeknownst to her, the heart she thought she seldomly lend an ear to saved one soul. And as if to prove history repeats itself, she's do it again.

            All she knew was the wheel of fate was starting to gather speed. She must catch up or else, it would outrun her, eventually outrunning everything else she was living for.

            Silence was the only thing with her as she looked at the floor of the virtually cavernous room.

            Althea snared some common traits with Matthew Craighan, she possessed a curly hair as dark as the first few minutes of dawn. Her oval face that was perfectly framed by that hair was a sea of whiteness, tender whiteness that held a sharp but vulnerable pair of eyes that seemed to burrow into an object on which it lay. The eyes were calm, black and expressive; it turned into a shape of trapezoid when in shock but returned to its sharp nature when at ease. The arching eyebrows that gradually faded on its way to the two of her eyes matched cleverly with it. The nose was sculptured by an artist more aware of the detail than with how it would go harmoniously with the beautiful oval canvass that was her face. Though, most people might have complimented its seeming perfection, her teeth were crooked, an ostensible blemish some people find attractive. She stood circa five-five; though, not so tall enough, her built made her height attractive. Althea might have shared some common characteristics with Matt, but there was no way any consanguine attributed could link them, only emotion.

            Yes, she knew who Matthew Craghan was; they were friends, guardians to each other. She knew that they were both eighteen and nineteen years old but within that lifetime, they had not met yet. They were friends even before they were born or given an earthly vessel. She was a supernatural incarnate. But, there was another thing she knew, she would not be surprised if the man would not recognize her. She knew the reason why. it was she.