AVENGING ANGEL—A Short Story Who or WHAT is Angel? A gripping story that blends suspense, dark humor, and a touch of the supernatural.

 

Your just deserts await.

***

Angel, Age Two

  

Christine Avery knew it was unreasonable, but she couldn't stand little Bubba from next door.  Little?  Ah!  Thought Christine.  At three years old, he was a big brute of a toddler, a one-brat demolition crew.  Hence the nickname.  

She hated to see him coming.  He smeared food all over her furniture and walls, threw things,  broke windows, dishes, toys, and even TVs.  He kicked over her potted plants and threw the soil onto her table and stove.  But worse, he hurt her six-month-old twins.  As soon as her back was turned, he'd do something to make her babies scream.  He was a holy terror.  And Christine felt that, like a gong, he should be struck regularly.

But for some reason, he behaved himself when Angel was around.  He was a year older than she was, and he towered over her.  Still, Chris was certain he was afraid of Angel.  She hated the idea of using her little daughter as a bodyguard for her twin brothers, but it was either that or get arrested for backhanding a three-year-old.

One day, while putting her children down for a nap, Christine was surprised when Angel insisted on napping on the little daybed in the twins' room.  She usually preferred sleeping in her own room.

"Honey, don't you want to sleep in your own room?"

"No, Mommy, me wanna sleep wit duh fat babies."

Christine laughed because Angel hadn't learned to pronounce her th's yet and because the twins were fat, jolly, delicious little things.

As soon as the children were down, Bubba's mother, Leah, called.

"Chris, can you keep an eye on Bubba for a while?  My daughter is having an emergency at school, and I've got to run over there."



Setting Bubba up with a video game in the kitchen, Christine started a load of laundry in the adjacent laundry room.  Soon, she heard the screams.  With her heart in her throat, she went running.  That vicious little monster is hurting my babies!  She thought.  But before she reached the twins' room, Bubba came running past her at breakneck speed.  He ran from the house with his arms flailing in the air, his mouth wide open in a silent scream.



Arriving in the twins' room, Christine was relieved to see them sleeping peacefully.  Angel was sitting on the little daybed, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, contentedly playing with her doll.  Chris found Bubba hiding under a bush in the yard.  He was sobbing, shaking, and pointing his big, fat finger at the house as he babbled Angel's name.  Christine had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

***

"You know, "Leah said to Chris about a month later, "I think Bubba has finally emerged from the terrible twos stage.  He's wonderfully behaved now."

Looking at her little daughter, Christine felt laughter bubbling up in her throat.  She bent over to fidget with one of her houseplants to hide it.   "Yes," she said, coughing a little,  "he's very well-mannered over here, too."

Angel, Age Twelve





Miss Mary was sixty-five years old.  Her house always smelled of flowers, lemon-scented furniture polish, delicious roasting meat, or freshly baked pies.  Angel and her brothers had been in and out of that house since they were old enough to walk.  And, to the chagrin of both their actual grandmothers, they called Miss Mary "Grand."



Angel loved spending time over there.  Miss Mary was her best friend.  Her house was crammed full of small, beautiful things that enchanted Angel.  She loved looking at these things and going on treasure hunts around the house.  And if she found something she really loved, Miss Mary would give it to her as a gift.  

But best of all was her cooking.  Christine's food was healthy for your body, but Miss Mary's food was healthy for your soul.  It made you groan in delight.  And she always cooked enough for the Averys.

When she fell and broke her hip, Medicare sent nurse Norman to check on her. 

But instead of recovering, Miss Mary declined—fast.  Angel visited Miss Mary daily.  Almost every time she visited, Norman was on the phone, speaking quietly to someone.  Eventually, Miss Mary became wheelchair-bound and had to move into a nursing home.



Her absence left Angel desolate.  When her father asked what was wrong, she broke down.  Edward Avery held her while she cried and trembled.  Soon, she was wailing so hard that he barely understood what she was trying to say.  Finally, he realized it was about Miss Mary.



Miss Mary's cooking was one of the things he truly enjoyed in life.  "What's going to happen to me if I have to eat Christine's cooking all the time?"  He wondered.  He immediately assigned a junior attorney from his law firm to look into the situation.  Norman and the nursing home were involved in a scheme to swindle the elderly out of their assets and turn them into residents of the home.  Miss Mary was their latest victim.



Edward Avery assured his family that he wouldn't rest until his law firm brought down the nursing home and Miss Mary was home again.  And he told them he'd make sure she received a large settlement for her trouble.  Then, smiling, he said, "Because, Chris, let's face it.  I'd starve if it weren't for Miss Mary."


Christine cut her eyes at him.  "Edward, you're not funny.  The only reason I keep you around here is that it's cheaper than hiring a handyman."

They both burst out laughing because everyone knew Edward Avery viewed home improvement as a spectator sport.   

Shaking her head, Angel looked at them.  "Mom, you and Dad are weird, and so's your sense of humor."

This made Edward and Chris laugh even harder.   Smiling, Angel rolled her eyes towards heaven.

***

Meanwhile, Nurse Norman was under intense police scrutiny.  As investigators closed in, he desperately attempted to evade the long arm of the law by skipping town.  After packing everything he could into his SUV, he filled the tank and headed for the highway, hoping to put as much distance as possible between himself and the investigation.



Night fell, and he was still driving.  He glanced around.  His was the only vehicle on the expressway.  I didn't realize it was so late, he thought.  Tired, sleepy, and anxious, he saw a huge eighteen-wheeler coming straight at him.  Where did that come from?  He wondered.  

He swerved to get out of its way, but no matter how he maneuvered, he could not get out of its path.  He squinted to see who was driving the thing.  It's that little kid who was always at the old head's house.  The little girl.  But that can't be.  Damn!   I'm so tired I've become delusional!  He thought.

When he awoke in the hospital, he told them that the truck had aimed for him.  He didn't tell them about the creepy little kid driving the thing.  He knew they wouldn't believe that.  But it was that little brat who was always at the old girl's house staring at him with those eyes.  

Like she knew he was there to hit a lick.  Like she could read his mind or something.  And she was always so still, as unmoving as a statue.  Never left the old girl's side.  Just sat there, her eyes following him around the room. 

"Norman, Norman."  He heard the doctor say.  "You're babbling."

"No, I'm not!  The truck aimed for me, I tell you!"

"Truck?  What truck?  You fell asleep behind the wheel and drove off a cliff.  I'm very sorry, but the trauma of the accident left you with quadriplegia."

"Wh- wh- what?  You mean I can't move my arms and legs?"

"Yes, that's correct.  Unfortunately, the only thing you can move is your head," the doctor said softly.

When Norman was finally released from the hospital, he was wheelchair-bound and had to move into a nursing home...

Angel, Age Twenty-two

Angel and Grace had been friends since sixth grade.  All through school, people called them AngelGrace as if it were one name.   She had the sweetest personality of anyone Angel had ever met.  The two girls were always together, giggling at something or other.  In high school, they hosted a podcast, ate lunch, went to games, and studied together.   And they even dated guys who were best friends. 

Grace was a pretty blonde with an ethereal look.  She'd been born with a congenital birth defect that left her cripple.  But she never complained nor felt sorry for herself; she simply got on with it.  And she had a delightful sense of the ridiculous that endeared her to everyone and kept them all in stitches.

When she was attacked, coming home late from work one night, everyone in the neighborhood was angry.  Luckily, the Avery twins and Bubba, who were now best friends, were also coming home when they witnessed the attack and ran the offender off.

The attack on Grace was the fifth one in their neighborhood.  Most of the others happened along the walking trail near the small lake in the community's wooded area.  The attacker was beating and raping women who were jogging alone there, and he was also breaking into the homes of women in the area who lived alone.

The men of the community formed a neighborhood watch group.  Edward Avery was very concerned for Christine, Angel, and Miss Mary.  He and Christine insisted that Miss Mary move in with them.  She was seventy-five now, and although she was still quite active, the Avery's weren't taking any chances.  Before she could even agree, Angel and the twins were at her house, packing her things for the move.


Around dusk, a few weeks later, in the empty high school parking lot, the assailant struck again.  This time, the victim was a young girl about sixteen who had stayed late for cheerleading practice.  

He tackled her from behind, but while he had her down, something struck him on the side of his head so hard that it felt like he'd been kicked by a mule, and it blinded him for a few seconds.  He shook his head to clear his vision and rolled off the cheerleader, who got up and bolted.

As he jumped up, a quick, razor-sharp pain shot through his groin.  "Hello," she said softly.  Catching sight of her, he let out an ugly laugh.  He started to charge at her, but the warning bells that went off in his diseased brain clanged so loudly that the laughter died in his throat, and he froze.  And more softly still, she said, "Greetings, this is for Grace."

She was holding a lethal-looking blade, but it was her eyes. He felt his bones turn to water as a shock of terror went through his body.    And that's when she came at him.  The piercing scream that tore up out of his throat was so hideous that police cars in the area immediately switched on their sirens.  And at the same time, he realized that he was bleeding profusely.

***

At the Avery house, Edward was upset and angry.  He'd been calling Angel's cell phone every five minutes, but she hadn't picked up.  Shaking with apprehension, he was on the verge of calling the police.  Christine understood his anger was really fear, and she gently assured him Angel would be home soon and that there was no need to involve the police.

"Chris, she's out there alone with a predator on the loose!  I told her not to go out without one of the twins or me!"


"Edward, I'm sorry, babe.  I thought I told you.  She's over at the high school.  She's organizing a fundraiser to help buy a new bus and new uniforms for the football team.  The coach called today to ask if she could meet with him about it.  He sent half the team over here to escort her."

As soon as the words were out of Christine's mouth, Angel walked through the door.

"Hi Mom, Hi Dad." She said casually.

Edward Avery let out a long-held breath and enveloped his daughter in a bear hug.

"Are you alright?  I was worried sick!"

"Oh, Dad, you worry too much." She said, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

***

In the emergency room, it was just another Friday night for the doctors and nurses.  They'd seen human suffering and horrors that would make Stephen King run for cover.  So, they took it all in their stride as they informed the police that the patient they'd brought in had not only been permanently blinded by massive trauma to his occipital lobe, but he'd also been castrated.

"Castrated?"  Asked the sergeant.

"Yes."  Replied the doctor.  "It appears to have been done with a scalpel."

The police sergeant rubbed his big belly, sucked on his tobacco-stained teeth, pushed his cap back on his head, and said casually, "Well, we've identified him as the Lake-in-the-Woods rapist."  Then, laughing, he said, "I suppose that's what you'd call sweet vengeance...by...well, let's say an avenging angel."

Angels—Robbie Williams (1997)

"I sit and wait Does an angel contemplate my fate?"

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© 2024 Jade Love

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