The Wooden Angel

The Wooden Angel

Andie Straight. What a horrible reputation. And Andie is sure glad to toss that name away. The only think that keeps her spirits from soaring out of the depths of sadness is Alila, her little sister. The horrible evening when her dad threw a knife in her moms heart, the suicided will stay with her forever. Because that was when Alila and Andie were separated, Andie being five and a half, Alila being two.

Chapter 1

First Sight

by: Dudete
It all started when I was five. I was standing there, with my face all smashed up against a toy store window, wanting all of them but sure to receive none. Then one toy stood out. One wooden carved statue of a girl. Not something many five year olds would give a second look. But I wanted that. Real bad. I sighed and resumed walking, the statue tugging at my mind. No mater what, I had to have it. I turned on my heel and walked back.
"Mother will kill me if I'm late," I tried convincing myself. But I knew my heart would never give me peace until I had it. I pushed open the huge doors of the shop, walked in, and grabbed the girl in my tiny, cold fingers. I looked at her more carefully now. She was made out of medium-brown wood, the details so perfect it seemed impossible. She had on a long plain gown, with her hair spilling in waves across her face. Her eyes looked bouncy, and a smile played on the corners of her mouth, like she was happy to see me. I turned her around and say tips of perfect wings poking out from her long hair. She had no shoes on, her tiny bare feet barely visible from beneath the gown. I smiled at her and turned her over in my hand again, holding her tight as not to drop her. Now that I had touched her, she seemed even more perfect, and my longing to have her increased.
I sighed as I remembered that I had only two dollars in my pocket, and those must be turned in to Mother or else I wouldn't get dinner. My stomach rumbled, complaining that breakfast had been too small. I set the angel back on the shelf and started walking away when a silly, five-year old idea hit me. It was my only chance, and I took it. I slipped the angel in my coat pocket and to the back of the store, trough the Employees Only door and into the storage room. No one noticed, and in this empty room, hundreds of boxes stood stacked up on top of each other. I slipped as far back as I dared, climbed to the top of a pile and pulled my angel out of my pocket. I kissed her delicate forehead and mumbled as brightly as I could. "Bye-bye for now, Angel. I'll see you when I come back and take you home. It won't take long, I promise."
Then I skipped home. I guess my heart was satisfied, because it didn't tug me back again.
I would get her.
I knew I would.
Then, as I entered our cheap apartment to hear my father yelling, my mother screaming, and my little sister crying, I forgot all about the angel.

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