Fallen Angel Chapter 11 Althea the School Girl
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Fallen Angel Chapter 12: The Poem free porn video
Chapter 12: The Poem
The three arrived at school at around six thirty, for they stopped at a
McDonalds to get breakfast. This left Cal forty-five minutes to show
Althea around and get her acquainted with the school. "So, you got your
schedule with you, love?" Cal asked as they entered the double doors to
the Gym Building. He walked then to G1, where Anthropology was held.
Althea shook her head. "They didn't give me my schedule..." she said
distractedly. She was busy admiring the artwork on the wall, which had
a series of demons and angels fighting against one another. "What is
this?"
Cal smiled, walking up beside her and sliding an arm around her waist.
"Well, love, a friend of mine is a fabulous artist. He dropped out of
school last year, though, and this mural is his legacy... He painted it
after reading Of Light and Darkness." He pointed to a blond male with a
muscular body that was wearing a black cloak and wielding a ninja sword
against a particularly nasty-looking demon. "That is me, or my
character in the novel, Christopher. Can you see the resemblance?"
"Yes. Who're you fighting off, Cal?" Miranda asked, walking up to them
and delicately touching the mural with her fingertips.
"Well, that demon there is, Rick told me, supposed to represent all the
struggles I'm about to face this next year." Seeing their questioning
looks, Cal added, "Rick was also involved in the Battle of Aukos last
year. He was ... one of the ones I had to see die... He was a good man
and a powerful seer..."
"Dear lord..." Althea gasped. She saw a demoness flying next to the
character Christopher, and it bore a striking resemblance to herself,
from the facial features to the black robe and golden sash. "Th, that's
me..."
"I know... Rick told me that I would meet someone not of this realm in
this school year and that I would once again have to take up arms
against evil... Who would have thought he'd be telling the truth..."
They stood there, admiring the mural, for about a half-hour, each not
saying anything, but in his or her own way, contemplating what was
said. "Hello, Calvin..." a harsh voice hissed from behind them. Cal
turned to see who said that. Evan and Stitch stood there, both glaring
at him with the utmost repulsion.
"Hello, ladies. How're you doing?" Cal asked easily, seeing a tremor of
disgust ripple across Evan's buzzard-like face. He admitted that seeing
such open anger he caused made him feel better.
"Pretty decent. You?" Stitch asked, a bittersweet tone to his voice.
Cal grinned. "Well. So, what brings you here?"
"No reason. I'm just curious why you brought your girlfriend to school
today. I dragged Evan along just because I thought it'd be healthy for
him." He looked at Althea and winked. "So, how do you like this school,
you sweet li'l thing?"
Feeling as though she would vomit, Althea took her mind off of the fact
that Stitch was hitting on her and walked up to him, slapped him hard
enough that his glasses flew off his face ten feet away, and growled,
"Don't you ever look at me that way, you bastard!"
Stitch walked over to his glasses and picked them up, put them on his
face, and walked back over to where they stood. "What a feisty little
bitch you are, 'Ally'!" he growled, a demonic glint in his eyes.
"Listen to me, Althea. You do that one more time and I will gut you and
feed your intestines to your fudge-packer of a boyfriend!"
Cal stepped forward, a furious glare on his face. "It would be wise of
you to not speak that way to my girlfriend," he whispered, his eyes
flashing.
"Or what? Are you going to slap me too?" Stitch asked peevishly.
Cal raised his fist and was about to uppercut him in the solar plexus
when Mr. Sandvik, the Anthropology/Sociology teacher, walked through
the doors. "What's going on here?" he asked mildly, seeing the tension
burn the air between the two men. Sandvik was in his early fifties,
with salt-and-pepper hair, a small mustache, and a western-style beard.
He stood at about five feet seven inches, and was slightly overweight.
"Nothing, sir," Evan replied, walking through the doors, an almost
tangible viridescent aura of hatred around his being. "We were just
leaving." With that said, he and Stitch left and went to their classes.
"What was that all about, Cal?" Sandvik asked curiously as he led them
into classroom G1. "It looked like you and James were going to get into
a fight there..."
"Ah, Stitch has always been a bit touchy about how women treat him...
Anyway, let me introduce your new student, sir!" he gestured happily to
Althea. "Her name is Shira Mikoto, and she's a foreign exchange student
from Japan." He looked at Althea and grinned. "Shira, let me introduce
Mr. Jakob Sandvik, a good teacher of many subjects, but particularly in
those with the social sciences."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Shira. I hope you like it here, because
we're going to be studying many fascinating things about the oriental
cultures and how they developed differently from the western, European
ones. Of course, you probably don't need any teaching on the matter,
eh?" Jakob asked politely, outstretching his right hand to shake hers.
She took his scarred, callused hand gently with hers and shook it
delicately.
"Ah, you flatter me, sir. I'm only here because I'm so good at the
language arts... I can speak Japanese, English, French, Spanish,
German, Russian, Babylonian, and a dozen different ones fluently. So,
here I am... Where will I be sitting?"
Mr. Sandvik assigned her a seat in the opposite side of the room as
Cal, and before he could protest this abominable seating arrangement,
the bell rang and the kids poured into the class, taking their seats.
Miranda bade them farewell and dashed to her classroom before the
second bell rang.
The morning announcements were heard over the intercom and then, Mr.
Sandvik walked to the front of the class and smiled. "Good morning,
Class. We have two new people enrolled in our class." He then gestured
for Althea and a new girl to walk up to the front of the class. "Let me
introduce Shira Mikoto, the foreign exchange student you were all told
about." He gestured to Althea. He then looked to the other new girl.
"And, this is Tawny Jameson. Shira, why don't you tell us about
yourself?"
Trying with all her might not to blush from all fifteen students
staring at her curiously, her eyes met with Cal's and he nodded.
Feeling slightly more encouraged, Althea began, "Hello, everyone. As
Mr. Sandvik said, my name is Shira Mikoto, but you may simply call me
Shira. I came from Okinawa because of my mastery of the languages." She
shrugged and chuckled. "They become so easy when you master
Babylonian!" Sandvik laughed quietly, understanding that all languages
were spawned from the Tower of Babel in the Holy Bible, but the blank
faces on the rest of the class signified that they didn't understand.
"Never mind... Anyway, I was born in Kumamoto, Kyushu, and moved to
Okinawa, where I learned the languages. That's what got me sent here in
the first place. I hope we can become good friends!"
"Thank you, Shira," Sandvik said politely, winking at her. Althea
returned to her seat. "Now then, Tawny, why don't you tell us about
yourself?"
Tawny was beautiful, to say the least. She had curves in all the right
places, long, slender legs that went on for miles, and a beautiful,
somewhat mischievous-looking face with high cheekbones and sensuous,
full, pouty lips. Her golden-blond hair spilled down over her shoulders
like a waterfall of pure sunlight, and she stood at about five feet six
inches tall. Her eyes were cat-like and alert, and she didn't seem
abashed in the least to Sandvik's inquiry. She wore a tight-fitting
black t-shirt that was embroidered with the word "Angel" in glittering
letters and hip-hugging blue jeans. She smiled as her and Cal's eyes
met. "Hello, there! My name's Tawny, and I'm from Clearwater, Florida."
She sighed and thought about how to answer the rest of the question.
"Well, what I like to do is write poetry. What can I say? It helps me
figure things out!" She shrugged and giggled giddily. "Anyway, I also
like to write short stories. Do any of you?"
"Well, one of our students does," Sandvik said happily, gesturing to
Cal. "He is always writing when we take breaks. Please continue, Tawny.
Have you had anything published?"
Tawny shook her head. "Nope, but I'm still trying..." Her eyes met with
Cal's once more and she then said, "Well, I hope we can be friends!"
And, with that said, she looked back at Sandvik and said, "I need a
place to sit, Mr. Sandvik..."
Sandvik nodded and set her in front of Cal. She looked back at him and
smiled. "So, you like writing too, do you?"
Cal nodded and smiled. "Yes. I like writing science fiction and
fantasy. It's so much more fun than writing in reality. That's why I
write in the first place, to escape reality. How about you?"
"Well, my reason isn't that deep... It's something to do to pass the
time, really..." Tawny smiled genially and extended a hand. "What's
your name?" she asked as Sandvik walked back up to the front of the
class and got them started on an assignment on the cultural differences
between medieval Europe and Medieval Asia.
"I'm Calvin Lillehammer, but you can call me Cal. So, Tawny, how do you
like it here in Nevada?" Cal asked as he grasped her hand gently and
shook it.
"I dunno," Tawny said as she handed Cal a stack of papers labeled
"Early Cultural Differences: Europe vs. Asia". She sighed as she wrote
her name in big, loopy cursive letters on the upper right-hand corner
of the worksheet. "It's too brown!"
Cal laughed, despite himself. "You said it!" he chortled, signing his
name on his worksheet. "So, want to become friends?" he asked
curiously, looking up at her after he was finished.
She smiled. "Sure, Cal. I like you, and I'd like to read what you've
written!" She winked at him, making him blush involuntarily, an action
that was really quite difficult to do. "Us authors have to stick
together, don't we?"
The class finished and Cal met up with Althea in the hallway outside
the classroom as he waved goodbye to Tawny. "Who's that that you were
talking to, love?" she asked curiously.
"Her name is Tawny. She too is an author," Cal said as he slid an arm
around her waist and held her closely. "So, how do you like high school
life, love?"
"It's alright," she said, sighing. "I just wish Mr. Sandvik didn't
place us so far apart..."
Cal kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it. I'll never stop
thinking about you."
Tawny ran up to the two quickly. "Hey, Cal, I was wondering if you'd
like to read this poem that I wrote just before I left Clearwater!" she
said, slightly out of breath. Looking at Althea, she smiled and winked
at her. "Hi, there! You're Shira, right?" she extended a hand and shook
hers. "Nice to meet you. So, you and Cal boyfriend and girlfriend?"
Althea nodded, winking at her as well. "Yep, Cal's my knight in shining
armor. So, you like it here?"
Tawny shrugged. "It's okay, I suppose... I'm still a bit homesick for
Clearwater, though..."
"Well, all the more reasons to make friends to help you to adjust,
then!" Althea said humorously. "How 'bout we meet at lunch?"
"I've second lunch..." she said distantly. "And I'm sure you guys have
first lunch..."
Cal nodded. "Yes, we do. But, how about we meet up in the parking lot
after school and go do something?"
"Sounds like a plan!" Tawny said, smiling. "Well, I gotta go find out
where M37 is, so you two have a lovely day!" And, with that said, she
left them, handing Cal her poem. It was typed up and the paper was
rather crinkled and lined, and there were spots that were discolored,
as though she was reading it in the rain at one point.
Looking up at Cal, Althea sighed. "Well, Cal, I know where my next
class is, so I'll see you at lunch, my love..." And she walked out of
the building, leaving Cal walking to Honors English IV alone.
The walk seemed abnormally long, without the two friends he now had in
Anthropology class. He used to have no friends in that class, so it was
quite a switch. He walked into the English classroom and took his seat
next to the teacher's desk. Mrs. McNally stood at the head of the
classroom, smiling. She was a middle-aged woman, with graying blond
hair and a slightly overweight disposition. She had been one of Cal's
favorite teachers, and Cal was one of her favorite students.
"What's with the long face, Calvin?" Mrs. McNally asked kindly, looking
down at him.
Cal looked up and smiled. "Must be the weather, I guess... Whenever
there's a hint of rain, it always acts like a depressant for me... So,
what are we doing today, Mrs. McNally?"
"Ooh, you'll love me for this!" she said excitedly. "We're doing ...
VERB CONSTRUCTION!!!"
Groaning, Cal looked down to the poem that Tawny gave him. Why is she
so familiar to me? He thought as he opened the crinkled sheets of paper
bound together by hot pink yarn. On the upper right-hand corner was the
title and information: "Sometimes, a poem by Tawny Jameson. For Lydia."
He began reading,
"Sometimes I wonder
What would I have turned out to be
If I had different choices to ponder.
What makes myself "me"?
The choices I made in the past
Got me where I am today.
But, looking back, I realize that life passes by too fast.
The darkness in my heart pushes everyone close to me far away.
I struggle just to make it through the night
For, without you by my side, I am nothing.
I remember our shared laughter and when we had a fight.
It is tearing me up inside, not seeing your beautiful face smiling.
The one thing most important to me seems lost.
You ignore me, without noticing me you walk by.
The threshold to ruin I have crossed.
When you ignore me like you do, I ask myself, "Why?"
Sometimes I hurt
And no one sees my tears
I remember when we used to flirt,
And now, all I see are your angry leers.
The darkness in my soul is growing.
Only your care can act as an antidote.
Now, here I am, watching the river by my house flowing.
The poem here is a confession of my love for you, which I myself wrote.
What did I do?
What happened to push you away from me?
What is demanded of me to make our love anew?
I am blinded by sorrow and the answer I cannot see.
Sometimes I hate
And no one sees the fire in my eyes.
You are all that matters to me now and my message can no longer wait.
Without you, you take a part of my heart, which slowly and painfully
dies
Whatever I did to make you leave,
I'm sorry I did it.
From my standpoint, together our souls weave.
But, when you look at me the way you do, I feel as though my heart has
been hit
My darkness is now absolute.
You are all I can think about.
When you're so far away, all that is in my mind is your face, full of
innocence, full of life, and cute.
Nowadays, though, I can't get your attention even if I shout
My heart is quickly becoming a black hole.
Light ceases to go near
The signs are as clear as if written on a holy scroll.
I hate who I am for letting you go from out of fear.
Sometimes I worry
And no one sees my anxiety.
I don't know what to do, but I nonetheless hurry.
You and I have grown apart, me falling to my dark emotions and you
gaining the key to the love of the society.
I long for your smile.
It encourages me never to give in.
From the situation, though, it looks as if I'll have to wait awhile,
For us to be together has apparently become a sin.
The world is cruel, ruthless, and harsh.
But, with you by my side, the world seems more hospitable.
I would go anywhere for you if you asked me to, from the burning
deserts to the snowcapped mountains, and even a mosquito-infested
marsh!
But, alone, without you, the world is unbearable.
Sometimes I contemplate
And no one's there to offer their input.
I still believe that meeting you was preordained by fate.
For better or worse, I love every bit of you, from the top of your head
to each foot.
Most times, I think at night, outside under the stars.
My mind is full of you.
If you asked me, I would try to end all wars.
When I was with you, I lost my frown and my soul gloriously flew
When I was with you everything wrong in the world seemed right.
When around you, it seemed there were no wars, no acts of hate.
Because of you, I thought that, even though the world was terrible, to
live did I have renewed might.
Several times you astounded me with your mind; it seemed a lot stronger
than mine, at any rate.
I long for the sound of your laughter.
It is so musical and full of love.
When I hear your beautiful voice and see your vibrant face nothing else
seems to matter.
To me, you remind me of a pure white peace dove.
Sometimes I mourn
And no one sees the sadness in my depressed gaze.
I think of my past and it seems to have had my honor and dignity shorn.
I'm confused about everything, my emotions an unsolvable maze.
Reality is not so kind.
Many people in this world aren't nice.
But, one who cares about you is indeed a rare find
And, almost always, for their caring, the one getting the affection
will have to pay, one way or another, some sort of hard price.
When did I first notice you?
I'm not sure. Perhaps it was in high school? Another life?
And, when I noticed you, did you notice me too?
It doesn't really matter too much, for, between us, there is too much
strife.
At first, when I noticed you, I wasn't in tune
For my heart was underused.
Boy, looking back now, I was certainly a buffoon!
I regret it now, that my emotions didn't get perused.
Sometimes I smile
And no one sees the remarkable difference it makes.
Though I am new to this concept of romance, I pray that it will only be
new for a little while.
I write fantasy and sci-fi because of how little effort for me it
takes.
But, to make a fantasy real,
That is something altogether different.
I seem to lack the ability to feel
And for this reason, to you I am repentant.
Sometimes I fear
And no one sees the alarm written on my face.
I fear that eventually I'll lose everything that I hold dear.
You are my center, and when I'm around you, everything fits into place.
The darkness in my heart isn't so dark when you're with me.
Though I don't show it, when you make a simple gesture like a
comforting pat on my back
I yearn for another from you, for I then think, "She actually cares
about me!"
And, I then don't say anything because I don't know what to say, for
the ability to actually "talk" is something I lack.
It is ironic.
For, even though I can communicate, I can't talk.
Rather strange for one like me, considering I've written a book. Sorry
for being sardonic.
This is what this poem is about, so here is my message: I love you,
even though I don't show it. Sorry if that comes as a shock."
Cal looked up from the poem, his face pale. Gee... That poem sounds
familiar... he thought as he folded it up and stored it in his
backpack. The person in that poem sounds like I did before Althea came
into my life... Cal sighed and let the minutes tick by. He wanted to
reach out to Tawny, for if that poem was so beautiful, she must have
been a tortured soul at one point or another. Never again will I be
lonely. Not so long as I have friends like Althea and Miranda and ...
Tawny... He sighed again and began writing down in his notebook a poem
to return to her. He wrote: "Darkness, an Ode to Shadows, by Calvin
Lillehammer. For Tawny."
"As pure as the rays of moonlight that filter through the clouds.
No one can see through its wall's sheer thickness.
The evil, inky-black void of it the mist shrouds.
Its manipulative nature envelops the mind of the crowds.
An unfathomable specter that goes unmatched in terms of devastation,
noir, and sickness
I feel it, behind my eyes,
Trying to pervert and subjugate my rational mind.
Soon, it will engulf me, and I now realize:
The darkness itself upon which my fate lies.
Luminescent rays of light cannot penetrate it, though even at their
best, a pathway through the inky blackness the rays of light cannot
find.
An impossible nostrum is required,
For I can sense it growing with every bated breath.
The void from within is gaining ground; I beg this message be inquired!
The silence is beginning to take the place of emotion, an effect highly
undesired.
Soon, the vitality in my body will be replaced by death.
The shadows grip my sentience like a vice.
Bound by noir, I am like a soulless Shadow Reaver.
Devoid of emotion and conscience, my evil glare is as cold as ice.
Able to cause atrocities without remorse, I no longer seek one's
counsel or advice.
I owe this state to falling to darkness, which is a terrible deceiver!
Lurking behind my eyes, the demonic void sees all.
It is the ultimate evil that cannot be defined or analyzed.
One must sense its malice and cruelty, or the darkness will never fall.
It comes in many forms, seducing everyone, from the short to the tall.
It is the most insidious plan ever devised.
Evil runs rampant, poisoning the air.
Darkness follows this pattern, shattering to pieces unanimity.
It feeds on the innocent and assimilates those who have a spirit that
is true and fair.
It literally obliterates those standing up against it, those who are
brave and those who dare.
Now it has assimilated me, and uses my essence to, at the very least,
treat the light with animosity.
I once was a man who was good, light, and just,
A warrior elite, honorable and holding true to that very name.
Now, I've been consumed, an evildoer who to disturb unity and peace is
a must.
I commit all of the deadly sins without a second thought, from wrath to
lust.
I've become one with the shadows, one with all that is dark, and it is
quite a shame.
Since I dwell not in the light,
I live in the silent, satanic void, bound by pain, anguish, heartache,
and wrath.
Do not push me any further, lest what ensues is a terrible, evil
plight.
I am strong in the shadow realm, able to do things no one else would be
able to with just pure will power and might.
I've locked off my emotions, became merciless, and chose a dark,
shrouded path.
In my most private moments, I think not of what has happened to myself,
but am bound by stagnation.
For, at some point in my life, everyone has abandoned me,
Leaving me to fend for myself against the elements and troubled
emotions, indeed not a lovely situation.
Not once has my heart felt long-lasting love outside my family,
becoming a sort of emotional deprivation.
Now, as I gaze eastward toward the sunset, my eyes shimmer with sadness
and my heart is melancholy.
I must find a way out,
For if I can't, the darkness will devour my mind.
It looms stealthily over the horizon, like a panther that swaggers
about.
Unable to handle its presence, I grip the sides of my head and, in
agony, I shout.
Answers that I've been searching for, for an immeasurable amount of
time, I suddenly find.
I see clearly now, I know what to do!
I'm a master of shadows, able to choose my own side.
Though I'm dark, I'm not evil; therefore never again will I harm others
without just cause and protect you.
I'm a shadow warrior and a ninja, having learned the art at the
country's best martial arts ryu.
I'm a warrior elite, a dark commander of good who can command the
darkness, and once again, I have regained honor and I now have my
pride."
With that finished, he vowed he'd give her his poem when the day ended.
Smiling, Cal sat back and let the verb construction lesson commence.
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