Chapter SeventeenMature

I took my camera, checking that it
was in working order, plugged my laptop in to charge, vowing to complete my
research later.

I pulled on a different top, a
fitted, plain black, long sleeved, high necked one and similarly black,
skin-tight leggings. The reason for this was that the length of the clothing
would make it harder for the angels to find any bare skin to start the attack
on. I also wore my only gloves, black, blue and silver striped fingerless ones.
I had nothing to cover my face, but hopefully they wouldn’t have time to
attack, and I could just take the pictures and leave.

 

The conventional attic with its
cardboard boxes, dark, dusty corners and flickering light-bulb was gone. The
hell that I always witnessed had returned, the haystack with its twisted,
decaying angel-corpse was back, the stench of blood, feathers and rotting flesh
had returned to the air, that had gone from average-temperature and containing
bits of dust, to chillingly cold. The thirteen angels were still surrounding
the haystack, their emaciated bodies and disgusting wings as taut as
guitar-strings.

They were too engrossed in what they
were doing to the dead angel to notice me, so I was at an instant advantage. I
took a picture of them, as they stood facing the haystack, capturing their
wings perfectly.

They heard the click of the camera
and turned around. I witnessed a horrific sight.

All thirteen had blood on their
clawed hands and running from their withering lips and down their scarred necks,
where their protruding, skeletal clavicles seemed to cup it. One angel was
holding an eyeball between her claws, as if it was marble, with threads of
veins dangling from it. She quickly placed it in her mouth, full of sharp,
shining needle-like teeth, and as she bit down on it, more blood ran past her
lips.

I recklessly began taking more
photographs. This was my one chance to get evidence, I wasn’t going to give up
without a fight.

I could feel claws ripping into my
skin, hot, wet blood soaking me. I could hear my own screaming but I wasn’t
aware that I was screaming. I just
thrashed about wildly, feeling their wrath and feeling my pain.

I finally escaped from their torture,
holding onto my camera so tightly that my knuckles went white.

I ran from the attic, falling down
the ladder and landing in a blood-stained heap on the landing carpet, still
bleeding heavily.

And who should be standing their but
mom.

She shrieked.

“SARA! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO
YOU!”

She looked as if she was going to
pass out at any minute.

“The angels attacked me!”

I felt as if I was going to faint as
well.

The End

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