Angels of Death
You've been down the street all my life, staring at me from afar, and I could only return the gesture by staring back, wondering what your name was and wondering why you have popped into my head all of a sudden. You have never left my head or my heart since I first laid my eyes on you're hypnotizing blue ones.
Patrick jotted down on a sheet of paper, a note for the mysterious, brown-haired, blue-eyed girl that lived a few houses down from him. Always watching him as she sat on the grass, her eyes curious and beautiful. Patrick had always noticed whenever he asked his hyper-active friends Andy, Joe, and Pete, about the girl that was sitting there, cross-legged, her elbows resting on her thighs, her chin resting on her knuckles, staring at the boys, peaking through her curly locks of hair that blew from her face, they would never see her. Sure enough, when Patrick looked back, she was never there.
You appear and dissapear, like you were playing evil tricks on me in my head. Games. All games. Even though you drive me insane, you make my day brighter so I could only hope to see you face again. I wish I could see you smile-- You never do. Maybe that could change. Someday. Maybe someday you'll appear at my house, you'll knock on the door, and you'll introduce yourself. Maybe then, will you stop plauging my mind.
"You know that girl I told you about?" Patrick asked looking at his bandmates after their long and tiring practice in the basement. They were lazily lying about on the furniture, drinking some ice cold water bottles from the minifridge. The only one of them who actually looked busy was Pete, who was scribbling down some more lyrics, or at least Patrick thought that's what he was writing.
"Yep," Joe said with a long, exasperated sigh. "You talk about her all the time. It's really odd, you know, Pat. Why haven't we seen her? You tell us she's there, then we look, acting like idiots and no one is there. If this is a prank, it's stupid, so just stop."
You make my friends think I'm crazy and abnormal. You make me seem like an idiot. Show yourself. What do you have to hide? I can show you what you have been missing.
"Are you sure she's not your imagination?" Pete asked, not looking up from his notebook, still writing down the dark thoughts that spilled out from his mind. "Are you sure you didn't go off one night to a bar, get drunk, sleep with her, and now you are thinking about her all the time?" He asked.
Patrick furrowed his eyebows, getting a bit angry, "Yes, I'm sure." He practically mumbled.
"Good," Pete told him. "Because if you did, then I wanted to know where I was when that happened! I would have gotten drunk with you!" He said with his cocky smile. Patrick just smirked, shook his head and sat down on the ground, leaning his head against the wall, staring out the window that looked down the street.
Maybe I should be the one that goes over there. Maybe I should be the one that introduces myself. Maybe I am the one that's making myself crazy because I never bothered to even say hello. I just looked at you with love, compassion, confusion, and even fear. Fear of not knowing why you were staring, what you were feeling, if you loved me back. Yes I love you and I don't even know you...
Back to Patrick's reality, with him writing down on a piece of ripped out binder paper, he started thinking about what he was going to say after that. It made his head throb as he wrote down the last sentence and scratched it out. He grabbed his jean jacket from the chair and then left his messy room, then out of his house into the night, not bothering to say goodbye to his mother.
He headed down the street. Towards the house. He knocked on the door lightly and then the pale girl opened the door. She eyed him, giving him a small smirk. She opened the door father and all you could see was darkness. That's when the girl held out her delicate hand for Patrick, showing him something for him to take.
"Don't be afraid, Patrick." She whispered, not breaking their stare.
Patrick touched her icy cold hand, grabbing the object that was in it. It was a card. He turned it over and saw it was the note. Patrick looked up at her and her lips curved into another small smirk.
"Welcome home." She whispered as Patrick fell over on the porch right in the doorway. The girl kneeled down, staring at him. "Welcome home." She kissed his still-warm lips.
The girl re-read that line in her head after she took back the note from Patrick's hand. "Thank you, Patrick." She whispered. "You just saved me."
The girl's body soon turned transparent and a bright light, the only light in that house, took her.
"Patrick? Hey guys! I see Patrick!" The other boys looked up and saw no one where Pete was pointing. Pete turned to face at the guys now.
"I don't see anyone, Pete. Are you okay?" Andy asked. He whispered in Joe's ear. "He's been so sad since Patrick died. Maybe he's going through trama." Andy stated, whispering. Of course, they too were shaken and horribly saddened when Patrick dissapeared.
Pete sighed looking from the guys, and then when he turned to look at the Patrick again, Patrick was gone. Pete looked at the guys, "I'm going to go and write something. See you later." And instead of going into his house, he went into Patrick's and went into his room
Patrick. I know I just saw you. Come back to us. He began scribbling down on the same notepad Patrick wrote on before he dissapeared at the same desk he did.
All I want to do is save you.
The Angels of Death.
[All I want to do is save you]
I told you it was wierd.
But I love it anyway.
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Thank you so much for reading.
<3
