Tick. Tick. Tick.
Verb conjugations never end. Señora Tocan had been droning in Spanish for the past half hour.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Estoy aburrido. Por favor¡Socorro!
The door swings open, and an angel glides in. Señora Tocan is frozen mid-conjugation, mouth hanging open. The class is staring at the source of the interruption from "to sleep".
The angel's face is pale, albino almost. Deep-set charcoal eyes are rimmed by purple bruises, though he doesn't act tired. As I take in his perfectly muscled body, I wonder why he is here.
He walks to the front of the room and murmurs in the teacher's ear. I suspect it wouldn't matter what he said; she would do anything for that voice. I know I would. Turning, he looks directly at me.
Señora Tocan says in a high, breathy voice, "Amelia, you should have mentioned your doctior's appointment at the beginning of class. This young man-" she looks mournful as she says this, "had to go to the trouble of coming down to get you. Vamanos, and remember to do your homework."
The angel gestures to me and I gather my books numbly. I drop my textbook and bend down to pick it up, but found instead a chalky hand offering it to me. I take it, head still lowered, and stuff it viciously into my backpack, aware the whole time of his eyes upon the back of my head. When I finally straighten, he walks silently to the door and holds it open. I mutely exit the classroom, and we walk in echoing silence for several minutes.
"I-" I finally find my voice. "I don't have a doctor's appointment today." He glances sideways, and I am scorched by his dark eyes. For a moment, as we pass under a light panel, they flash red.
I struggle to think clearly under his gaze. I use the time to stare back. His pale, perfect face could be chiseled from granite for all the emotion it shows.
"Then why did you tell her that? Who are you, anyways?"
"I would have thought you'd be glad to escape Spanish," he murmurs.
Under his ebony gaze, it takes me a breathless moment to realize he didn't answer my second question. I do not probe, however, because at that moment we exit the school. I am too absorbed to notice anything but him, but my angel's eyes flash towards the sky. I follow his gaze by reflex, and see gray clouds rolling head, never revealing the sun hidden behind them.
An iron bar suffocates me as I soar through the faculty parking lot and across the field. I gasp and the archangel turns his eyes of pitch coldly down. He smiles, not the dazzling grin he showed earlier, but a feral grimace.
"Dear Amelia, don't take it personally," he croons "It was simply luck of the draw—out of the entire school, yours was the first in the attendance records."
"But who…what are you?"
"I am a predator." We have reached the outskirts of town, a trip that should have taken half an hour. The man, the hunter, sets me down, but I don't run. Once again I am trapped by his mesmerizing gaze.
He leans towards me, his perfect alabaster face inches from mine. As he speaks, his sweet breath falls upon my face. "I am a predator of the night. I am a hunter of humans. Do you realize the truth of your demise now?"
As he lunges, the horror movies I always refuse to watch come back to me.
Predator of humans…and a face models would give their soul for…
As he leans into my neck with a touch so gentle it could be a kiss, I know the identity of my archangel.
Author's note: Yes, just a little dream I came up with in Spanish... Praise and criticism are both welcome! I hate writing in present tense, but I felt like challenging myself.