Angela's Ashes Novels & Stories

Ash stopped jumping around and tilted his head as if he was processing her words, “Did she call me a clown?” “Yes, she did.” Ray replied. “Excuse me, but if you two are fucking done with your puppy union, then can we focus on the more pressing matter at hand?” Darius asked from a distance. I noticed that Stephan and Tarr were also present, fully awake and battling the dead ones. “Right, where’s Angela?” I scanned the foyer. “Shit! She’s definitely going to kill our baby!” “Save the pup!” Ash howled. “I can track her. She’s outside the mansion. The pup is already in her hands.” Agni said.

“Just a few days, Ange, I mean it. We can’t be here too long anyway; we need to find Orion and Si—” “Orion and Silas are dead!” Angela snarled, her voice filled with pure pain and anger. Alinta froze at the words. “I didn’t want to tell you, but they're gone, Als! GONE! I tried to protect you, but you need to know the truth and think about your actions before you make another mistake,” Angela said, her voice broken with guilt.

I finished the urn. I smoothed its curves, I refined the imperfect butterflies, I let it dry, and then I fired it in the small kiln. The process was meditative. Each step was a ritual, a final act of love for my daughter. When it was done, it was warm from the kiln, its earthy brown glaze a stark contrast to the cold, polished porcelain of the original. Carefully, reverently, I transferred Angela's ashes. They were all that was left of her laugh, her dreams, her tiny, perfect hands. They settled into the home I had made for her, a home made with love, not just purchased with wealth.

he began carefully, “is not an opinion. It’s not speculation. It’s documented.” My fingers trembled as I reached for the folder. I didn’t open it, yet. I couldn’t. “Just say it,” I said. “Say the worst thing. I’m good at surviving worst things.” Alex leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Elena,” he said gently, “Angela did not die.” The room tilted. I laughed. A real laugh this time; wild and disbelieving. “That’s not funny.” “I’m not joking.”

She muttered with her voice breaking. I just sighed and kept my straight face. “I think you need a moment with your mother,” I mumbled, excusing myself. I took a few steps back, then halted between two tombstones. I pivoted my head to check if Angel was still looking at me, and she wasn't. She’d knelt down on her mother's tomb, and was cleaning the dust away with her hand. I tilted my head back to the grave on my left, then swallowed hard. Onto the next, I shed a tear.

Wade's father died in the line of duty. At his funeral, Wade stood solemnly at the very front of the crowd. By the time I hurried back from out of town, there were only two spots left for the funeral procession. One was beside my husband of seven years, Wade, whom I had secretly married. The other was at the very back of the line. Naturally, I assumed the spot beside him had been left for me. But the moment I took a step forward, Wade walked right past me and nodded in the direction of my best friend standing behind me. "Helen, come here." The relatives around us began looking in our direction. Someone murmured, "Isn't that Wade's girlfriend? They look perfect together." Others began c

The wind scattered the ashes, and the rain soaked them, washing them away little by little amidst the flowing water. Sheila fell out of her wheelchair and hit the ground. Ignoring the pain, she crawled toward the drain, desperately trying to gather the ashes with her hands. It was hopeless. "My baby… My baby..." She could only watch as her child's ashes slowly disappeared. There was nothing she could do. It felt as though someone had torn her heart apart. She knelt in the mud, sobbing as she reached deep into the drain again and again. Her hands quickly became caked with filth, but she kept searching.

Mrs Carter said sternly on the phone to her caller. "I am working on it, ma'am. Give me half an hour," he promised. "You have twenty minutes," she replied and ended the call. While Mr Garcia was waiting to see, Ethan, he received a message from an unknown number. He frowned but opened and read the content. Olivia your daughter is no more He read the message and there was a picture of Olivia lying in a pool of blood on construction debris. He dropped his phone to the ground and sat down heavily on his chair with his heart broken and shattered into many pieces.

The anger was gone from his voice, replaced by something I couldn't quite place. I kept rubbing the balm onto my skin. The silver scars looked ghastly in the moonlight. "Seraphina’s hand is badly injured. The healers say she may never use that hand again." He added, "That was cruel, Elara." I stopped, setting the jar down before rising to face him. "Cruel?" "She's just a nineteen-year-old girl!" "She had a memory crystal of my greatest shame!" My voice started to shake. "Those images, Kaelen! Those damn images! How did she get them?"

We finally got around to burying Patty in her backyard _ Peter found a shovel and other things, I found some flowers in the house. Peter constructed a small headstone out of an old block of wood, I cried and promised to do a proper burial for her some day. “I'm sorry you died protecting me. We only knew each other for a few days but I'll never forget you.” I whispered as I stood by watching as Peter covered her up bit by bit. By the time we were done, it was nightfall and I imagined my parents and siblings would be worried already. I wondered if Layla would look for me. Probably not…she's been too occupied with her boyfriend, Trent and her new life trying to fit in with the elites.