So this is Christmas…
But what have you done?
That night I saw an angel fall from the sky. Her golden hair gradually lost its shine as she reached the ground. Her beautiful white gown was stained with dirt. I could not see her eyes or her face, but I knew that she was the loveliest thing that could ever exist on Earth. She looked so fragile and innocent.
So why? Why did you send her away from your kingdom up among the clouds and stars?
I was there. I saw the red petals falling like rain onto her body. It looked like a shower of blood. What has she done? What is her story?
I did not know what to do, but as a honourable man I felt it was the natural thing to go and help. I slowly walked towards her. She was immobile. Was she even breathing? I bent down and, with a trembling hand, I touched her blond locks.
She sat up and looked up at the sky. Then she looked at me.
I held my breath as she stared straight into my eyes and through my soul. Her eyes were like the infinite ocean and her skin was as fair and soft as a baby. Her voice was melodious, though a little broken as if it has been far too long since she had last uttered a word.
“Where am I?” she asked.
I opened my mouth and answered her with much effort. “In the forest of Azelga.”
She stood up and looked around. I straightened up as well. “Who are you, fair lady? Are you an angel?”
The creature turned to me and smiled. She started to go round in circles and lifted her hands up in the air. Red petals fell even more onto her and her only. She laughed as if I had asked her a stupid question.
This time when she spoke, it echoed everywhere. “Why do you say so?”
Then, something strange happened. The petals began to form a tornado around her; I could not see her anymore.
And it started to rain. For real. The water felt heavy upon my body. Soon, the red petals joined.
But as the petals touched me, they became blood.
Real dark blood.
I screamed but no sound came out of my mouth. The red substance covered my hair, my eyes, my skin. I could not move. I fell down. I could only smell the rusty odour of blood.
To my horror, my skin started to peel off. It burnt.
“Merry Christmas,” the angelic voice cried out.
And she watched as I drowned in my own blood.
An Evil Nymph.
PS: Okay I admit this story is… not much Christmas-like, lol, but my weird inspiration got hold of me! This is my contribution to Picture it & Write
I was browsing through my own blog’s archive and I would like to share the Christmas articles (which fit the festival more than this gloomy story) I wrote last year:
I read them and thought they would be interesting to be re-read again this year