By Angel of Death
Okay this is the second story that I've wrote for the contest but the first one was horrible and should never be talked about again. Please please please give me your thoughts and opinions because I really need it. I believe in the piece, and hopefully I'll be able to win at least third place with it. Rough Translations of the French is at the bottom of the page. Okay, enjoy!!!
Mindy grazed her fingers over the dusty keys. As she closed her eyes the music that she repressed for so long, became the air that she breathed. Jumping off the sheets of music were notes that haven't been played in years. They screamed at her to open up her green orbs and look at them, before they became like everything else. Repressed memories. A knock at the door, made her jump. She knew she wasn't supposed to be in here, so when the door creaked open, her heart stopped.
"Père, je peux expliquer..." she started, getting up from the stool. Expecting to get scolded, Mindy hung her head low and waited. Footsteps moved gracefully over the green carpet, and soon, two green combat boots rested in front of her. Her father, Maurice Dupont, didn't wear combat boots. The only brand of shoes that he wore were Forzieri's. Mainly brown oxfords. Confused, Mindy began to examine the person who stood before her. Clad in army fatigue was a man with cropped black hair and fluorescent blue eyes. For a moment, their ocular organs met, his filled with an unexplained chagrin, hers flitting between fear and surprise.
"Qui êtes-vous?" she asked, taking a step back.
"Je suis désolé, mais je ne parle pas bien français," he replied, softly.
"Oh. Well, who are you?" Mindy repeated.
Instead of answering, the man walked around Mindy, eying her appreciatively.
"I don't have time for games," Mindy snapped, turning to face him.
"Again, miss, I am sorry. It must be odd for a man in uniform to appear out of the blue here. In your home." His accent was obviously American but the cadence in which it was spoken wasn't modern. It sounded as if these words belonged to another era, instead of in 2008.
"Yes it is," she agreed, rocking back and forth on her heels.
The man laughed, his chuckle sounding more like the ringing of Notre Dame bells, than that of a human. Mindy watched as his eyes perused their surroundings. First he looked at the white bookcase, marveling at the literature. Then he smiled at the gathering of teddy bears that sat neatly in the corner. He was about to look back at her but then something peaked his interest. Side-stepping Mindy, he walked to the far right of the room and stopped in front of the piano. The top to the baby grand was left up and because it was white, the dust was visible.
"Do you play?" he asked, sitting down.
There was silence. The stranger that was sitting at the piano in her sister's room wasn't posing any threat but he still hadn't answered the question of the hour. Who are you? As Mindy stared at him, she was able to see the intricate gold designs painted on the front of the beautiful instrument. If he were performing in front of an audience, the whole left side of the room wouldn't be able to see the keys or the music. But Mindy, who was standing a couple of paces behind him, could see right through him. It was as if he was a ghost or a figment of her imagination.
"Tirez-vous ensemble," she whispered, closing her eyes. Even though Mindy knew that she woke up this morning, she closed her eyes and counted to five just in case. Un. Deux. Trois. Quatre. Cinq. But he was still there, readying himself to play a song. Cracking his knuckles, he turned the page in the music book and placed his fingers gracefully on their rightful key. Then, like birds chirping an elegant melody, his hand began to play a song.
"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you,
lost control, the way a fool would do,
Gladly...
Because you held me tight,
And stole a kiss in the night..," he sung, as he played each note. As if the music flowing through the air were beckoning hands, Mindy moved towards the piano and stared down at the hands that orchestrated the sounds. Usually it took two people to play Heart and Soul but this man played both parts without breaking a sweat. Probably feeling Mindy's gaze, the man looked up at her and beamed. All the while, the music kept on going.
"Play with me," he said, scooting over.
The invitation was appetizing. Before her sister, Adele's, death, Mindy used to play until dawn broke free from the night. It was her life and her passion. There was not enough money in the world to buy her love for music. Then, one day, her sister went crazy. The music she played was nothing but car crashes and chaos. She'd clank endlessly at the keys without actually producing melodious sounds. Mindy's father tried asking what was bothering her but she never talked. After a while, she stopped playing music. On her eighteenth birthday, their father went up to her room to surprise her with a new book. What he found changed his and Mindy's life forever. Sprawled over the piano, dead, was Adele. And now, to ease the pain that harbors in his soul, he forbids the playing of music in his house.
"What's wrong?" the stranger asked, taking his hands off of the keys.
Everything was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be in this room playing on this piano. If her father were to come home to hear Heart and Soul, there's no telling what he might do. To make matters worse, Mindy couldn't find the words to say to the man who sat at her sister's piano. He obviously wasn't a figment of her imagination and he couldn't be a ghost. There were no such as things as ghost. After people died, that was it. There was no roaming the Earth endlessly without meaning. It was just your body in a box or a vase, whichever you preferred, end of story.
"Mindy?" the man asked, standing up.
Mindy caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror parallel to where she stood. Her face was stark white beneath the purple bruises on her face. The eyes that were usually green were now a sullen gray. She was seeing dead people, that was the only other explanation for the soldier standing before her. Blinking her eyes a couple of times, she took a seat and began hyperventilating. Usually when someone was hallucinating, all they had to do was calm down.
"inspirez...expirez...inspirez," Mandy whispered, obeying the mantra. Her breathes came easily, until the man placed his hand on her shoulder. It didn't go through her like it should have but it was still touching her. Why was a dead man's hand touching her? Mindy could feel her heart doing jumping-jacks in her chest. This wasn't a dream. In fact, it was far from being an illusion. He was real.
"How d-do y-you know m-my name?" she murmured, looking up at the man.
"Isn't it obvious?" the man asked, sitting down.
Mindy managed to shake her head no, which made him smile.
"I'm your Guardian Angel," he explained.
Not knowing what she could possibly do, Mindy threw back her head and let out a laugh that lacked humor. The only thing worse than knowing that you're going crazy, is having your hallucinations prove you're not.
"What's so funny?" he asked, confusedly.
"Nothing!" she screamed.
"You don't believe me, do you? You think you're going crazy," he replied, softly.
"No and yes. I mean there is no other possible explanation for this except that I'm losing my mind. Angels aren't supposed to be dressed for battle. They're lovers not fighters," Mindy explained, shaking her head.
The man nodded his head in agreement and then sighed. If you stared at him long enough, you could see the way the air pushing out of his lungs made his chest rise and fall.
"What's the point of breathing?" she thought.
"Its a habit," the man replied.
Eyes getting big, Mindy stood up from the bench and started to pace. This was all just too crazy. Here she was, in her sister's room, with an Angel who just answered a question that formed only in the confines of her head. It took all she had not to fall to the floor and curl up into a ball. Really, it was a surprise to Mindy that she was able to stay so composed. Waiting patiently, with his hands folded on his lap, was the soldier. He was staring at her like she was the sanest person in the world. When Mindy noticed this, she stopped walking back and forth and stared him straight in the eyes.
"This is normal for someone in your position," he said, shrugging.
"Ugh!! Would you stop listening to my thoughts!" she shouted, rolling her eyes.
"I can't help it if your mind is loud," he muttered, looking down.
Mindy thought about what the soldier was saying but before she could speak, his lips parted and out came the answer to her number one question: Who are you?
"Could you please stop calling me the man or the soldier? My name's John, just John,"
"Oui. Whatever makes you happy," she replied, sighing.
"So let me explain why..." John's sentence was cut short by the sound of someone coming up the stairs. It was her father and from the sound of the groans escaping from his lips, he didn't have a good day so far. Not knowing what to do, she looked at John with worried eyes. The door was still open and the top to the piano was still up. If she closed either one of them, they would make an audible sound. He was almost to the third floor. His breaths were getting louder and louder. There was no escape for Mindy. The only thing she had left to do was stand there and wait. Besides, her father's slaps and screams weren't as bad as she painted them to be.
"Do you trust me?" John asked, taking her hands. If Mindy wasn't in her right mind, she would've snatched her hands away and ran, screaming out of the room and out of that house forever. But because there was no other option, and because she was most likely sane, she shook her head 'yes'. Then, like Spring wrapping up the last bits of Winter, John took Mindy into his arms and flew towards the wall. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, careful not to make a sound.
"Its over," he whispered. When her windows opened, she found herself in bed, egg-rolled in her navy blue quilt. Confused, she searched every inch of the room with her eyes but he was nowhere to be found.
"Mindy?" Mr. Dupont asked, his voice getting closer and closer. Mindy's door was closed but the hallway light was on. Two feet appeared under the door. The feet were decorated with a pair of expensive Italian shoes. As the door creaked open, Mindy knew that she would give anything to see those green combat boots again. Where was John when you needed him?
*
He pulled the purple rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, up to her bed. As he sat his tall form down, wafts of cologne and brandy tickled Mindy's nose.
"Bonjour, chéri." he whispered, smiling.
"Bonjour pere," she replied, sitting up.
"Comment était votre journée?" Mr. Dupont asked, leaning forward.
"Beau," Mindy retorted, looking down.
It was all she could do not to think of John. If he was her Guardian Angel, then why wasn't he sitting beside her? Protecting her? When her father was drunk, she feared him the most. Even though she didn't do anything wrong, Mindy could feel a slap coming. That's how it always was.
"Tu es triste. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, amour?" he asked, touching her cheek. Mindy flinched naturally, sending hurt across her father's face. Sighing, Mr. Dupont returned his arm to the armrest of the rocking chair. It was silent now in Mindy's room. Only the squeaking of the rocking chair when it rolled back and forth could be heard. Outside, cars swooshed pass the house, attuned with the songs of the night. Mindy let out a huge yawn, which she soon regretted. From sorrow to anger. Mr. Dupont's mood changed almost as frequently as the weather. She didn't mean to make her father upset, but then again, everything upset him. If it wasn't music slapping his ears, then it was the pictures of Adele poking his eyes. If it wasn't the empty room greeting him every time he came upstairs, then it was his only child toying with his emotions. he only thing in this world that held solace for Mr. Dupont was alcohol. It was sad, but true
"Dois-je vous ennuyer, Mindelle?" he snapped, his face breathing flames.
It was coming. Like lightning smashing into the pavement, Mr. Dupont's hand was going to strike her right cheek. When she was hit, Mindy could taste blood in her mouth. The pain wasn't as bad as it usually is but the tears were hell. To see her father's wild brown eyes staring at her like a tyrant would to a pauper, was humiliating. There was no one other than her and this man in her room, but still the Angels were watching. They were probably laughing at her. They were probably thinking that she was weak for letting her father abuse her the way he did.
"Je perdre mon temps à venir ici pour parler de cette valeur et cette fille est de savoir comment je suis remboursé. Un bâillement?" Mr Dupont said, kicking over the rocking chair.
"Je suis désolé père, mais je suis vraiment fatigué," Mindy countered, softly.
This was something new to Mindy. She never in her life talked back to her father when he was drunk. The words just slipped out.
"Vous en avez assez, hein? Bien rester dans votre chambre toute la journée demain, afin que vous puissiez dormir suffisamment." he muttered, storming out of the room.
When the door slammed shut, tears scorched there way down her face. Mindy could hear the key being turned outside the door. She was locked in there forever.
"Its going to be okay," a voice said.
Although she didn't know the sound for long, she knew who was talking to her. It was John and in the flip of a coin, he was sitting beside her on the bed. His warm arms were wrapped
protectively around her, and in her ears he sung a sweet song.
"But now I see, what one embrace can do,
Look at me, it's got me loving you,
Madly...
That little kiss you stole,
Held all my heart and soul."
When John stopped singing, his words still lingered in the air like drops of golden sun. With his left hand, he wiped the stray tears off of Mindy's face. She shuttered, John's touch wasn't exactly soothing. Instead, it felt like a snowball being launched at your face. Mindy wanted so much to ask him about where he went and how he's able to get to her so fast. When she tried to look up at him, he only tightened his hold around her so that she couldn't move.
"When your father hits you, it hurts me as well. And every slap in the face, is like a finger to an eyeball," John explained, his voice muted.
"I still don't understand why you left me," she murmured.
"Lets not talk about that," he replied, sighing.
The pain from the slap still stung. Mindy tried hard not to think about it so that John wouldn't pity her. She couldn't read his mind but she knew that he was wishing that God didn't assign him her.
"I don't wish that. In fact, I am glad that I am your Angel," John said, a smile in his voice.
She sighed. There was just no keeping any secrets from this man.
"If you feel that I'm intruding, why don't you just speak your mind?" he asked.
"I don't believe..." Mindy snapped, shrugging away from John.
Before she could enjoy her freedom, John grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. There was nothing but sorrow and concern in his eyes. For the first time in her life, Mindy saw an Angel cry.
"What don't you believe?" he said, but it wasn't a question. Instead, it was a cry of agony, a trumpet horn of pain.
"I don't believe that you want to try to understand what I'm going through..." she confessed, sadly.
John relaxed his hold on Mindy and then took a deep breath. The pain disappeared from his face leaving only traces of his sadness.
"And why do you think that?" he asked, softly.
"Because, you don't even want me to know anything about you," Mindy said.
"Come with me," John whispered, standing up.
Nodding, Mindy stood up and took his hand. It was weird to her how willing she was becoming. Although she didn't want to, John made her say and do things that she wouldn't normally say or do. A great light surrounded John's body. And as the glow engulfed him, wings the size of cars jut out of his back. They were white and amazingly beautiful. All he needed was a halo.
"Hah! We haven't had those in years," he said, chuckling. Then with unimaginable speed, they were out the window and into the night.
*
Flying wasn't a picnic at first. The wind tugged at her hair and blew roughly against her face. Even the thought of smashing into a building or even the beloved Eiffel Tower made the flight unbearable. But then everything was okay, once Mindy realized that she was with her Guardian Angel. He, she thought, would never let her die.
"You're right, I wouldn't," he answered, truthfully.
They weren't in the air for a long time. Once John lowered them to the ground, she knew exactly where she was. They were standing on Spinoza Street. There was no one outside at the time but in the distance, you could hear engines revving. Like New York, this was the city that never sleeps.
"Why are we here?" Mindy asked, twirling around in the street.
"Well I was hoping you could tell me," John replied, smiling.
Mindy stopped twirling and thought for a moment. Why were they here, standing in the middle of the street like idiots? She didn't know and frankly she didn't really care. Anywhere far from home was a better place for her.
"For some reason, your heart told me to take you here," he explained, sighing.
"Really?" she said, sitting down. The tar was chilled to the bone but it didn't bother her much. John sat down beside her, looking as if he had just fell from heaven. He wasn't wearing his army clothes, Mindy realized as she stared at him. Instead, he was wearing a white buttoned-up shirt and some jeans. Very modern. His hair, that was once cropped short, was now glossy curls. John would look like an entirely different person if it wasn't for those cerulean orbs.
"This is what I usually wear," he said, smiling.
Blushing, Mindy broke her gaze and lied down. Her long brown hair relaxed in tired curls around her head. Considering what a night she's been having, this was comforting.
"It is nice to get away every now and then," he agreed, sighing.
"What's it like in Heaven?" Mindy asked, turning her head to face John again. They were nose to nose now. When a smile spread widely across his face, she felt one rising on her face as well. They were mirror images.
"I can't tell you that," he whispered.
"What can you tell me?" she pushed.
"I can tell you that things will get better. I can tell you that God is ready to answer your prayers," John replied, sitting up.
"Hmm," Mindy grunted, mimicking John's position.
"Don't you believe in God?" he asked, thoughtfully.
Usually when Mindy told people that she was taking a break from God, they'd look at her weirdly and say that she should go to confession more often. Whatever that meant. But sitting here was an Angel, a patron of God, and not once to he judge her indifference.
"I used to," she replied, truthfully.
"Mindy, God isn't ignoring you," John said.
"He's not, is he? Then why does he turn a blind eye to each slap my father gives me?" Mindy asked, firmly.
John didn't answer. He just looked up at the sky and nodded.
"What did he say to you?"
"I can't tell you that but, I can say that time will soon deal with your father," he replied, bitterly.
Mindy shook her head. She couldn't believe that time would deal with her father, because it only made things worse.
"What idiot made time?" she thought. And then, as if the buildings were talking to her, her question was answered. Now she knew why she was here. This was the last place her sister and her were together before she went crazy. It was also the day she learned how to ride a bike. On that cold Fall day, Adele took a picture of Mindy flying down the sidewalk. For hours they stood outside, trying to perfect balance.
"Vous pouvez le faire," Adele encouraged, standing back to take a picture.
With all her might, Mindy placed her right foot on the pedal. She didn't know if she could ride without Adele holding her. But then something took her shoulders and guided her forward. Soon her left leg was strumming just as hard as her right. Camera in front of her eyes, Adele took the last picture she would ever take in her life.
"Ce temps est une invention des gene incapable d'aimer," Mindy read.
"What does that mean?" John asked.
"This time is an invention of those incapable of love," she replied, frowning.
"That's not true," he countered, shaking his head.
"I would love for it not to be true but it is. There are a lot of people who need help but all this world does is push them away. This time is an invention of those incapable of love," Mindy explained, getting up.
John stood as well and then they were in the air, heading back towards home. When they were in Mindy's room, John kissed her on the forehead and then words like beautiful memories, swarmed around in her head.
Things will get better for you, I promise. But whenever you're feeling that life is throwing you nothing but pain, believe in love. Believe in it with all your heart and soul.
*
*
The End
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[spoiler]Rough Translations:
Père, je peux expliquer: Father, I can explain
Qui êtes-vous: Who are you?
Je suis désolé, mais je ne parle pas bien français: I'm sorry, but I really don't speak much French
Tirez-vous ensemble: Pull yourself together
inspirez...expirez...inspirez: breathe in....breathe out....breathe in...
Oui: Yes
Bonjour, chéri: Hello, darling
Bonjour pere: Hello father
Comment était votre journée?: How was your day
Beau: Fine
Tu es triste. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, amour: You're sad. Whats wrong, love.
Dois-je vous ennuyer, Mindelle: Do I bore you, Mindelle?
Je perdre mon temps à venir ici pour parler de cette valeur et cette fille est de savoir comment je suis remboursé. Un bâillement: I waste my time coming here to talk to you and this is how I'm repaid. A yawn
Je suis désolé père, mais je suis vraiment fatigué: I am sorry father, but I'm really tired
Vous en avez assez, hein? Bien rester dans votre chambre toute la journée demain, afin que vous puissiez dormir suffisamment: You're tired, huh? Well stay in your room all day tomorrow, so you can get enough sleep[/spoiler]
