Dragonball: Celestial

Hey, Azrael Kross, again.

I'm just in a pretty good mood today, even though I have recently had some problems, check them out in my lifesyles post, and I feel like sharing some of my writings with you guys. Here I will post parts of the book I'm currently writing and you guys can tell me what you think of it. I may not add often because I get my writing done in class and I have to make up some work, but I'll try. Just remember to give me some feedback and remember that I am the Owner of Celestial. xD I'm just playin. I dun care if you dun like it. I'm just a writer and an artist. If I can scan some of my drawings I may post them in another post as well. Hope you like it.

PS: I'm gonn talk to Kaz to see if he'll add The Artist's Corner onto the Forum to post stories and pictures. Please only ones you have done though. Also, no inappropriate material. Thanks!

Kross

When an angel is forsaken, they lose many things.

They lose their white wings, having turned black in defiance.

Their once pure white eyes turn black as night.

The crosses they once wore burn at the touch.

And the faith they once carried...

They bare no more...


Forsaken


A feather slowly falls, gliding on the wind, toward its destiny of eventually hitting the ground with utter gentleness. Slight breezes tug at the pathway of the dancing feather, rocking it in the chilly dusk of a New York City sky. The light orange of the setting sun fuses with the dim blue of a pale night sky, shading the city in a purple haze.

The pure feather kisses the ground, landing in a small pile of snow and begins to curl up. The sidewalk that the snow remains on is a hue of gray, gradually shading darker with the diminishing light. The sullen streets all have snow pushed to the side, with small amounts of salt to dry up the latter; the city's shameful and, not to mention, futile attempt to hold back Mother Nature. Even though they repeat the process daily, more snow comes to fill the void.

The building infront of the somber streets is an aged Catholic Church made in a gothic styled architecture. Stone steps lead the way from the ever dimming sidewalk up to the scared dwelling of the Lord. The front of the bulding is intimidating, especially while standing on the sidewalk; the height of the building reaches a total of fifty feet, including the Old English steeple on the roof.

Great wooden doors catch the first glimpse of the eyes at the climax of the steps, followed by the stained glass, semi-circular window above. The image set in the glass is that of the Arch Angel Michael casting Lucifer into Hell for the second time; one of the most important events in the Bible. The church continues up until it reaches the roof, where the last remnant of the sunlight shines.

Another feather falls gracefully from the Heavens, again floating gently down, landing in the unmutilated snow. The white, virgin feather curls up and turns a shade of black, then bursts into flames; removing any indication of its existence.

At the tip of the church, more small feathers begin to fall, while larger feathers rustle together above the steeple of the church. A man stands atop the hallowed ground, his heavy, light brown boots resting on the base of the cross while his arms drape around the intersection. The man appears to be completely drained of energy and looks as if he is sleeping on the cross.

His legs are clothed in white, an off-white pair of pants that tuck into his boots. A matching brown belt wraps around his waist and falls down like a loin cloth. An off-white shirt with long sleeves comes up fom being tucked into his pants, the hood of the shirt is pulled up over his head, shrouding almost his entire face in darkness.

Great pure white bird wings flap languidly behind the man, causing his attire to ripple from the wind created by his wings. The man's wings slowly quit moving and wrap around him and the steeple like a mother wrapping her child, covering every bit of them both, save for his head.

As the last moments of day fade into night, lightning crashes from the sky and the man's eyes open to reveal two black orbs. His face remains solemn as the young storm brews in the growing darkness.

Just as another flash of lightning crashes to the ground, the man leaps, diving backwards, off of the steeple; his wings opening just enough to let the steeple slip through his loving embrace. As his hands release the steeple his wings fade into a jet black. The wind rushes past him and he closes his eyes, letting the wind caress his face. As he reaches twenty feet above the ground, his wings release from around him and begin flapping to keep him in the air. His wings beat fiercly into the night to carry him back home.

(This is just Chapter One and the Intro, more to come)

Kross

Sleeping Dragon
Key:Skull246

I read your little story.I found it to be a little elusive,but well elaborated on.
Tho i couldnt get a good picture of what you were trying to paint a picture of.At any rate your a good writer i think personaly.


Tim