Angel's Story
Part One: Hunted
Part Two: Haunted
Part Three status: Healed
Running
Panting
Leaping
Over roots too seeking of water in soil too dry
Scratching
My face on branches sticking out in my way
No time to swat or stop to be
Careful
They might see
Hunted.

Don’t know why I am treated such way
Don’t know what cause I’ve given
For them to hate me today
But sobbing
Silent
Hard
I try to see through the salt cloud
I can’t lose focus
Can’t loose ground
For if I do, ne’er will I be found

Screaming
Shouting
Mistaking
Shadows shifting in the light for their prey
Beating
Down anything between me and they
No care of any who might live this way
Collateral damage is nothing
It’s me that matters
Today
Hunter.

Don’t know where I should go
Don’t know why I must run
Till I can’t run once more
But hurting
Immensely
Wetly
I try to stay on this unmarked road
Leaving a path of sorrow and hope
I can’t go on
Can’t hold on
Falling, crying, fear consumes

A boy
Young and weary
Sees me hurt
He knows not my story
He knows not my dirt
Unwilling to listen
To my abandonment plea
He takes me inside
And takes care of me

The hunters they come
To see if I'm hiding
He says only “There is a girl
Yes indeed
But you see she is cunning
And quite darn funny
If this is the girl you currently hunt
I urge you to go back to your barbaric farms.”

The hunters looked in
I filled with utter fear
But they spit on his doorstep
And whispered in ears
Finally leaving
No more dogs would I hear.

A head start of one minute is all they gave me. One leg had already been messed up and they were full grown men with vicious dogs. Sport. They had been waiting for years to hunt me. I could always sense it. 13 years of life paranoid someone was going to snap and do something to you... and they turn your life into sport.
*****
“How are you doing today, sweetheart?” he was cleaning and redressing my wounds. Such a handsome figure. Around him- I felt safe. That made me almost more nervous than ever in my life. My life was completely in his hands... and I felt safe.
Smiling, I struggled with my hoarse voice, “I- I'm- I- warm- thank you very-” my straggling voice collapsed into heaving coughs.
“I'm sorry, sweetie. Shouldn’t have asked you to speak.”
*****
As I run, my heart beats words through its rhythm, Running, panting, leaping
Over roots too seeking of water in soil too dry
Scratching my face on branches sticking out in the way
No time to swat or stop to be-
Careful.
They might see
Hunted.
*****
He helped me sit up and gave me some porridge. Then he took out a small book and read to me from it until I fell asleep again. awaking again a few hours later, I felt much stronger and was able to sit up on my own. He came in and was overjoyed to see me awake. I was healing... as much as I could. He didn’t believe I would ever be able to fully use that leg again.
*****
All the while I ran, I could hear them making their way through the forest after me. Shouting, barking, swearing... and more could be heard as destruction lay in their wake and aspirations. Screaming
Shouting
Mistaking
Shadows shifting in the light for their prey
Beating down anything between me and they
No care of any who might live this way
Collateral damage is nothing
It’s me that matters
Today
Hunter.

He filled a hot bath for me and gently helped me in. I remained in the clothes he had given me. The warmth permeated through my body- somehow even warming my soul. Lavender and some other leaves soothed my mind and worked on healing my body. He said he had to get some food for us but that he would be back soon and that I would be safe. Somehow, I was able to believe him.
*****
Life called me from a place I’d never seen from the shadow I’d wallowed in all my death. I urged me on. Made me make new limitations- new boundaries. Made me prove I was more than they said.
*****
Don’t know where I should go
Don’t know why I must run
Till I can’t run once more
But hurting
Immensely
Wetly
I try to stay on this unmarked road
Leaving a path of sorrow and hope
I can’t go on
Can’t hold on
Falling, crying, fear consumes
*****
Returning with meat, bread, and cheese, he smiled warmly at me. He put more warm water in my bath then began putting the things up. I took a deep breath in and spoke- the first time since he’d found me.
*****
I could feel an odd warmth on my leg. I couldn’t see it. My vision was fading in and out and all I could see was blurred by tears anyway. I saw the outline of two legs and feet. My body tensed painfully. Involuntarily, I took in a deep, shaky breath. The legs bent as the person crouched. Barely, I mustered the strength to whisper, “Leave me alone.”
“I'm not going to hurt you.”
He reached out to touch me and I tried to draw back, “No- just go away. Leave me-“ I drew in a shuddering gasp as my leg swept across something, leaving a trail of blood.
“Girl, are you okay?”
“Just leave me alone,” I answered through my sobs.
“I can’t leave you alone, you’re hurt.”
“They’ll get you.”
“Someone did this to you? I’ll protect you.”
“No you-“ his face came into focus as he lifted me up. Pain shot through my leg and my heart filled with fear. His face was so young... yet I could clearly see the strength. I soon lost consciousness- from loss of blood he said later.
A boy
Young and weary
Sees me hurt
He knows not my story
He knows not my dirt
Unwilling to listen
To my abandonment plea
He takes me inside
And takes care of me

I like your style. ^^ So... the story of being hunted ends at the last stanza in that first post? O.o

Thanks.
Not really, no. The story of being hunted is told in flashbacks and eventually her telling him. The point though is that she was hunted until he found her. You'll see more. But the story of being hunted isn't over entirely.

Wow i really really like it, i really like how you have a poem that makes sense but you don't realy get it until you put those poems into stories that make it clearer now, i was wondering what those mean't but now i underytsnad it, wonderful, type on!

Thanks.

As with Exsors and AoBL, sorry for being late. This one I really have no excuse... 'cause I'd already written this.

“What is your name?”
He turned to me, surprise in his face. Gladly, he answered, “Joenaus. I'm glad to see you are speaking again. How do you feel?”
“Better than I have all my life.”
“That is a sad testament to the rest of your life. Why were those men after you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see...” his eyes clouded with thought and he back to his counter. “What is your name?”
“All the names I have are foul and false. I have no true name.... Joenaus.”
*****
The hunters they come
To see if I'm hiding
He says only “There is a girl
Yes indeed
But you see she is cunning
And quite darn funny
If this is the girl you currently hunt
I urge you to go back to your barbaric farms.”
His statement made no sense. I knew they would see through it. I knew they would break in and have their prize- my life. I hadn’t said anything cunning. I hadn’t said anything funny. I’d only spoke in fear then fallen to sleep.
*****
“You’ve never been called affectionately?” As he turned back to face me, I realized he was only a year or two older than I. I shook my head. “Never had a mother call to you or hold you when you were sad?”
“No. I... never had a proper crib...” my voice shrank to a whisper, “demon.”
“Is that what they called you? A demon?” my eyes sank. “How could they be so ignorant that they would call an Angel demon?”
My eyes shot up, “What did you say?”
“I named you, Angel. That is what you are. Any name foul for you would foul the speaker’s lips and bring punishment for heresy.”
*****
The hunters looked in
I filled with utter fear
But they spit on his doorstep
And whispered in ears
Finally leaving
No more dogs would I hear.
They feared he was like me. But what was I that they would fear? That they would hate? That they would treat like an animal needing to break?
*****
“No. You don’t understand my past.”
“Then tell me. Trust me, please.”
“My mother almost died when she gave my birth. As soon as she could- she ran from town, leaving me with a dog who’d just given birth but whose pups had all died.”
“Why does that mean anything? And what about your father?”
“She claimed I had none.”
“So they assumed your father was the devil then,” it was a statement- not a question.
“I was- born with defects.”
“Defects? I see none.”
“My arm and my leg were bad.”
“So then you were born partly crippled.”
“Yes. Eventually, the dog died and wolves took me. I was with the wolves until I was 4 and a priest found me. He took me to a monastery and tried to teach me. The village people came to him and he scorned them. But when they told him my past, he threw me to them, a leash around my neck.”

Okay you've got me hooked on this one Marian. Waiting for more.

lol. Glad I've got you hooked. That's always a good thing. XD. I will hopefully have an update around Sunday.

Never were I to understand the reasons of Fate’s musings. Still though, I question why- why I should have been the one drug through wilderness, beaten, spit upon, cursed. Never were I to understand the reasons of Men’s hate. Still though, I cry out in the night, pleading long gone abusers to stop their assault- or at least to explain why my poor young body would deserve it.
*****
Tied to a post in the middle of a yard- rotten missiles of fruit, urine, saliva, and blood surrounded me. Drunkards would come out of the bar toward me, looking for a fight and knowing with me they would get an easy one. Seemingly as a right of passage, young boys would practice their aim on me. Women avoided any look at me. And rarely, toward my scant frame, a piece of raw meat would be thrown. The people derived perverted enjoyment out of watching me eat the rank dinner with such vigor and zeal as if it were a feast for gods.
*****
“A leash?! How could a priest of all people do this to you?”
“I am of the devil...”
With surprising force, he replied, “NO. You are not. You are a beautiful girl and you’ve lead a horrible life which was filled with lies and abuse. What did they do with you after he threw you at them?”
“They drug me back to the village and tied me up,” my eyes had long since averted back to the water of my bath.
“How did you get away?”
“On my birthday, they let me loose to hunt me... if I survive till night falls, I live another year.”
“The same way? Tied like a dog?”
“They don’t tie me anymore... I don’t go anywhere unless they tell me to.”
The look on his face changed and at first I winced and drew to myself, thinking it was the same I’d seen for years... but then I noticed something different- he pitied me... no more than that- he cared for me and wanted to make it all better- to make it all go away. Why, I didn’t think I would ever understand, but I was glad for it.

wow. this is really good. you have a very unique writing style, marian, even from one story to the next. looks like i'm hooked, too.

yayz kaz is hooked!

EDIT: I just realized that almost everyone who reads something I write decides I have a unique writing style... is it really that unique?

Yes Marian, you write like you are telling a story, not like you are trying to write a story. Does that make any sense?

I write more like I am narrating to someone aloud rather than dictating a series of events and hoping it goes over well?

Exactly. It really gets the readers attention. As if we're sitting at a storytellers feet.

ok. Coolies. Just a question, ally, have you read any of my other stories? Exsors(which isn't working right now. >.< or Art of Being Lonely(AoBL ffr)?

No, There is so much here to read. I'm getting to everything a little slow. But I do plan to get to the others.

lol. Ok. That's fine. I don't expect everyone to read everything I write. And I don't expect everyone who likes one to like another. As kaz mentioned... my writing style differs from project to project. Hopefully, there's still that sense of storytelling as opposed to documenting. The subject matter also varies. I have so many different writing projects that have such different plots and characters... I never get stories mixed up.

With surprising empathy, he reached out and gently brushed my cheek, "No one else will ever do that to you, I promise. You are a beautiful human- or if not angel. May the Lords strike me down if what I say is false."
Not waiting for a reply, he walked into his room. An hour later, he laid a simple but beautiful dress and a towel by the tub and left the room again, telling me to call him should I need his help but that he would give me privacy otherwise.
*****
Strapped to a table in the middle of nowhere, hardly covered from the elements, I clenched my fists and shut tight my eyes in fear. Three times every year, the people would bring me here to be exhumed. The priest would draw blood from each of my arms and legs, my chest, and my stomach. He would then douse me in a special liquid which seeped into the fresh cuts and stung like almost nothing else I'd ever felt. He then would begin chanting odd words and tossing salt all over me. The whole while, his apprentice would be lightly hitting me with a staff in rhythm. The process caused my body to convulse until it exhausted me and I would fall asleep. They would leave me on the table for days at a time- feeding me only unleavened bread and water mixed with bitter wine. At the end, they would once again proclaim me as "of the devil" and I would be tied to the post for a short time in case my evil had been provoked beyond normalcy. The cuts were never deep enough to kill... but they left scars each time- and the staff bruises.