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Stephen Chiarelli

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Featured Book
What’s In Your Heavenly Account?
by Neeta Blair

It was a pleasant Saturday night in November 1998. My friend and I attended a church meeting where a renowned television minister spoke about heavenly accounts. The idea ..  
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In the Arms of an Angel
By Stephen Chiarelli
Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Stephen Chiarelli
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When life seems to be sucking our very souls we all need someone or something to turn to.

In the Arms of an Angel





Next to me lay an angel.

I could feel her warm breath against my back. And when she touched me I could feel the love pour from her. It streamed from her fingertips to encase me in comfort, a never-ending contentment.

I turned to face her.

Her face was beautiful; gentle lines, sweet lips that could create a smile to light my heart, baby blue eyes spiralling into mine to touch my soul with her love, and all surrounded by long blonde wisps of wavy hair.

For the first time in my life I was truly content, mellow in the glow of her everlasting love. I didn't think it was possible. Never had I known that love could be like this. Words didn't have to be spoken between us to convey what we both knew was true .

My life before her was filled with anguish that left me cold and withdrawn. Years wasted with nothing but an antagonist to keep me company. She beat me up emotionally with her verbal barrages. Financially she drained me and left me with nothing to fight for. I could not comprehend her selfishness until I left it behind. My thoughts were suicidal. It seemed to be my only true escape from the clutches of her stranglehold on me. And when I tried to counteract the insu fferable agony and make the best of a life of hell, it still was never enough to satisfy her greed. She tried to eat away my spirit.

I could detect darkness starting to creep into the peripheral of my vision. My blood pressure started rising and my irritation started to make my muscles twitch. No longer could I feel the fountain of love beside me. The room was cold. I was lying on my back on a cold steel surface. Slowly I struggled to open my eyes, my lids fluttering against the bright fluorescent light that was shining down on me from the ceiling. A figure in white appeared in the room and floa ted towards me, distorted by the tears that filled my eyes. A prick of pain registered in my subconscious and everything faded away.

Again my beautiful angel was beside me. We were face to face, tasting each other’s breath. The warmth of her body pressed against mine made me melt in my happiness. I felt her lips touch my lips, the soft texture of a velvet kiss. She whispered her devotion to me in my ear and it filled me and overflowed into the world around us. Heaven couldn't be any better than this. A tear came to my eye. How did I deserve such a beautiful creature? Was it my reward for endurin g hell for so long? Or was I imagining it?

Out of a small paranoid thought grew the possibility that I may still be in the grips of the hideous monster, that self-absorbed vessel of my destruction. Her face infected my mind. The memory of her evil glares spewing hatred at me. To endure a life with her would be like living a life of torture, small wooden splints being shoved up under my fingernails forever and ever.

I felt trapped under her ugliness, her detest for my existence. My limbs seemed to be pinned. I squirmed to try and break free and felt the edges of whatever held me bore into my ankles and wrists. Painfully I tried to open my eyes but only saw the bright white light that I couldn't bear to look at. A small pinprick sent me tumbling back into the abyss.

My beautiful diamond was under me, love pouring out of each of us and over the other. There were no bounds to our passion. When I was with her nothing else existed and I wouldn't want to trade those times for anything in the world, or outside of it. Together we were as one. What she felt, I felt. What hurt her hurt me. What made her happy made me happy. And what pleasured her pleasured me. We rolled together, over and over. She was on top of me, sinking into me. We had melded together.

A small intrusion in my thoughts of that fearsome creature from long ago struck me with blind fury. That bitch was there, holding a knife over me, the people that she had brainwashed holding down my arms and legs. I struggled against them. I could feel the knife cutting into my heart, making me bleed. My head was pounding with the fury they were causing me. And they laughed, as if it was some kind of game, waiting for the pleasure of watching my exposed heart explo de and spew out all the anguish of so many lost years.

With tears running freely from my eyes, I ripped and pulled my arms, back and forth, feeling the heat of the friction burning through the flesh around my wrists. But I kept at it. I wouldn't let this bitch finish me off.

My wrists became wet. I could smell the iron from my own blood, drops of it splashing my face. The thick liquid allowed me to loosen their grip with each push and pull I mustered. She reached in and grabbed the beating muscle just as I broke free and wrapped my hands around her throat. I sunk my fingers into the disgusting putrid flesh around her neck and dug them in as deep as I could. Her flaming red eyes bulged out from her distorted head. A blow came across my face from the fist of one of her disciples, but I still fought with everything I had. Her throat collapsed under the force of my thumbs and I pushed it into her neck further and further.

They were all over me. Holding onto my arms, trying to yank me away and stop me from finishing the kill and setting myself free. Something stabbed me in the arm and a pain shot up from the point to my neck. My grip loosened and I fell away, the task once again unfinished. I wailed.

Falling back to the hard cold bed, I forced open my eyes into the blinding white light. Hundreds of shockingly white figures were around me. Darkness started to creep into the corners of my eyes as the padded walls fell in upon me.

Once again I was in the arms of an angel.

©2007 Stephen Chiarelli


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Reviewed by 000 000 12/3/2008
Whoa! What a ride this story took me on.

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