Angel | By: Richard Tatham | | Category: Short Story - Love Bookmark and Share


He awoke again, sweat dripping from his already torrid skin. The nightmares had begun.
He remembered the soft caress of her lips against his, the sweet tenderness of the kiss as it engulfed his mind in a gentle wave of emotive passion; a kiss that sought through the depths of his soul to the weakest spot and latched on, gently arousing all the emotions that were tucked away and hidden from the cruel depressive world outside.
His dreams often ended abruptly in this manner. Most nights the visage of a raven-haired Aphrodite appeared before him, permitting him one tender kiss before jerking him into the harsh realm of consciousness. An evil dream – an entrance to heaven that always ended in a tumultuous descent into hell. The dream tormented him in its perfections – the mysterious queen of his sub-conscience reigned supreme, commanding his emotions as it saw fit – always with the same outcome – a broken heart for the dormant lover. As he awoke he always felt the sharp pang of heaven escaping him; of perfection allowed to slip through his fingers; always at the critical moment – just as their lips touched. He would remember that one agonising moment of pure romance as they joined together in blissful harmony – only to be jerked awake by the enormity of the occasion.
As he lay there, contemplating his horrendous situation in that moment of dreamy theta, he could remember the glory, the awesome beauty of the angel that visited him in his dreams. The pallor of her skin; a magnificent ivory-white; the darkness of her tresses that tumbled wantonly around her perfectly sculpted features, the tenderness with which she brushed her soft lips against his. He could recall every exact detail – the way her hair hung over one eye, the coy submissiveness in her gaze as she stared into his soul with those deep brown eyes, the elegant classical curvature of her cheeks as she leant towards him; all in all an angel too perfect to be allowed presence on this earth.
The dream would always awake him just as that perfect moment was to be realised – he could even remember the musky smell of her skin as she approached him, but that one kiss was always evaded by his dream-esque persona. He often wondered why – why he never allowed himself to experience such angelic glory – but secretly he knew. He was in love with an angel.
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