An Angel of Ashes - Part 3

Freya met Marco one day after coming home from school. He was in the main square of a park, playing lazy notes in his red guitar. His fingers ran through the frets of the instrument like a lifelong traveler, never missing a beat. An unkempt stubble made him at least three years older than Freya, but something in his melancholic and deep air made her heart race. Maybe it was his artistic sensibilities in a world where human reason counters all, or his indifference towards it; in short, he was an enigma she was hungry and thirsty for.

An Angel of Ashes - Part 2

The first period of classes had reached its conclusion, or at least that’s what the ringing of the bell told. Freya breathed a long yawn while fixing the neck of her school sweater, then she set her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on soft palms. The psychology class had been as interesting as the tardy road from home to school due to morning traffic. Freya was already sorry without having her father remind her how late it had gotten due to so many distractions; however, it wasn’t a case of major regret either. It all came down to being a little more efficient and aware when waking up.

An Angel of Ashes - Part 1

Freya spent more than ten minutes in front of the mirror, playing a game of smiles with herself. Her white teeth seemed to glow with the pink of her lips. There wasn’t a single change of expression in her features that could be missed, a quality she often did not realized.