Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > As Of Yet, Untitled.
Sing to Me Angel, Sing Me to Sleep
4 reviewsI feel summarizing often ruins the effectiveness of the story. That's why I say weird, cryptic, brief stuff in my summaries.
2Insightful
Chapter 13
Sing to Me Angel, Sing Me to Sleep
All logical thinking had ceased. Gerard sat staring at Egan’s small form, his face frozen in a horrified expression. There was no brain activity in his head. He just sat and watched her with his mouth open in shock, watching her like some heavenly sentry, a grief stricken angel. Egan had always wished to find an angel. Now she had one, and she wasn’t even around to enjoy it. Instead she was lost somewhere in the recesses of her mind. And she won’t come out. Please come out. He stared so long that his vision began to darken and glow around the edges. The image of her unmoving body burned itself into his sight.
“Sir?” He jumped at the noise; he hadn’t heard anyone approach.
“Sir, are you alright?” the nurse asked him kindly. He turned his gaze on her and began to stare at her blankly instead. The small smile on the nurse’s face creased into slightly pursed lips as she took in his shell shocked expression. She’d seen these before. It was tricky, knowing how to talk them down, bring them back to reality.
“She’ll be alright you know.” Gerard continued his apathetic staring. “I came to tell you that once she wakes up, after a few hours monitoring, you’ll be able to return home with her.” He shifted slightly, a good thing she knew, because if they began to move, then they were hearing her. She waited for him to speak.
“When?” The word was soft and scared. The look on his face plainly stated he wanted to take the tiny girl lying in the bed home and not come back.
“When she wakes up.”
“When?” It was still soft, but there was more fear.
“We’re not sure exactly. In a few hours, we believe.” Gerard inhaled.
“Why?” It came out slowly, like he was afraid of the answer.
“We just want to watch her behavior for a few hours after she wakes up to make sure she’s alright, no memory loss or cognitive behavior inhibition or anything like that.”
“Why?” This time the nurse understood what the question really meant.
“It’s her body’s way of getting the recuperation time she needs. She was under great stress, we can tell that from the brain scans. The bump on her head didn’t help things. And she put herself under great physical duress, yelling like that. She came perilously close to rupturing a minor blood vessel near her brain. That’s why her body shut down, to prevent that from happening. It was a defense mechanism.” The nurse watched Gerard’s face for signs of emotion. If she could gauge how he was feeling, she could navigate from there. He still looked horrified, but now his expression was tinged with guilt. Probably had something to do with that bump, she thought. Looks like she did a number on him too. He had a lovely bruise under his eye that was blooming in dark violet. There were other small spots peppering his face, varying in color from sickly gold to gray to dark blue. There were also some angry red scratches near his hairline and along his arms. She would have to remember to give the tiny girl the number of the Domestic Abuse Hotline before she left. Perhaps this battered young man too.
~*~
She could hear soft sounds. They were golden thread in the air, weaving in and around her, brushing her face, asking for a smile. Such beautiful sounds. In a soft, sweet voice. La voce dell'arcangelo. The angel was singing to her. Mama said they sing for me. And now she heard her mother’s voice too, her mother’s strong, rich voice, quiet like it used to be when she was small and her mother would sing as they sat on the beach at night and watched the waves, joining with the angel’s.
Nanna oh, nanna oh,
il mio bambino a chi lo do?
Lo darò al suo angiolino
che lo tenga fino al mattino,
lo darò alla befana
che lo tenga una settimana.
Nanna oh, nanna oh
il mio bambino a chi lo do?
Lo darò al suo cherubino
che lo tenga A sé vicino.
Lo darò a Gesù e Maria,
fai la nanna e così sia.
Nanna oh, nanna oh......
She remembered where her mother had gone and such disappointment fell on her chest as to crush her. Somewhere in the back of her head, a steady beep that had been there all along sped up. Hot, sluggish tears stung her eyelids and rolled wet paths down her cheeks but she didn’t move. It never occurred to her to move.
There the voice was again. Singing, her angel was singing. Not her mama anymore, she had fallen silent, now it was the angel all alone like before, in the beginning.
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give the morning
Which the angels pull onward
And the wonder today holds
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give
The cherub to call you his friend
To Jesus and Maria
Sleep and on to them you’ll go
Sleep oh, sleep oh…
The voice. She knew this angel. She loved this angel. Dreamy images drifted across her eyelids. A two toned eye, green and golden-brown; White skin; Expressive hands; Shining black hair, tumbled in every direction. A smile that made her throat close and heart swell and made her smile back. The voice rose and fell and swelled and ebbed as the words were painted. Higher there, then swooping low like a lark diving. Now soft and airy. Rich rumbling tones edged in here. She breathed a sigh. This angel made her feel at peace.
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give the morning
Which the angels pull onward
And the wonder today holds
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give
The cherub to call you his friend
To Jesus and Maria
Sleep and on to them you’ll go
Sleep oh, sleep oh…
She squeezed her eyelids together tightly, then opened them to peer through the cracks. There was the angel now, glowing contrasts of black and white. He sat in front of a window, the sunlight creating a divine, blinding halo around his head. She almost laughed, his presence brought her such great relief. She had no idea why, she didn’t realize she had been feeling anything that would warrant any kind of relieved feelings. She continued to watch. He sat in front of the window, his head leaning back against the sill. If she squinted, she could see his eyes were closed. He was no longer singing, but humming the tune of the lullaby, melodious and carrying. It was all so overwhelming. She caught her breath in her throat, tears swimming in her eyes once again. He heard and the music ceased. But he didn’t move, just listened. He’d had too many false alarms today to jump up again, sure to be disappointed. Better not to hope.
“Don’t stop.” His eyes snapped open. There she was, deathly white in pallor and staring at him hard as she could, eyes shining and the left half of her mouth smiling. Up and directly beside her, he made it in a stride and a half. Once next to her, he simply stood and stared. She stared back and her mind cleared and her eyes dried and her breathing slowed and her heart quieted. They stared without speaking for a time.
“I said don’t stop. Are you a deaf, or just a dumb bastard?” And he laughed uproariously. He couldn’t help but notice how remarkably angelic she looked. She laughed as well, marveling at his beauty and the way his laugh could make her feel.
Author’s Note: La voce dell’arcangelo means the voice of the archangel. It’s Italian. I bet you kinda figured that out. This lullaby is traditional Italian, and the English version is a VERY loose translation. Read, rate and review if the idea suits you. You know what I like ;]
Sing to Me Angel, Sing Me to Sleep
All logical thinking had ceased. Gerard sat staring at Egan’s small form, his face frozen in a horrified expression. There was no brain activity in his head. He just sat and watched her with his mouth open in shock, watching her like some heavenly sentry, a grief stricken angel. Egan had always wished to find an angel. Now she had one, and she wasn’t even around to enjoy it. Instead she was lost somewhere in the recesses of her mind. And she won’t come out. Please come out. He stared so long that his vision began to darken and glow around the edges. The image of her unmoving body burned itself into his sight.
“Sir?” He jumped at the noise; he hadn’t heard anyone approach.
“Sir, are you alright?” the nurse asked him kindly. He turned his gaze on her and began to stare at her blankly instead. The small smile on the nurse’s face creased into slightly pursed lips as she took in his shell shocked expression. She’d seen these before. It was tricky, knowing how to talk them down, bring them back to reality.
“She’ll be alright you know.” Gerard continued his apathetic staring. “I came to tell you that once she wakes up, after a few hours monitoring, you’ll be able to return home with her.” He shifted slightly, a good thing she knew, because if they began to move, then they were hearing her. She waited for him to speak.
“When?” The word was soft and scared. The look on his face plainly stated he wanted to take the tiny girl lying in the bed home and not come back.
“When she wakes up.”
“When?” It was still soft, but there was more fear.
“We’re not sure exactly. In a few hours, we believe.” Gerard inhaled.
“Why?” It came out slowly, like he was afraid of the answer.
“We just want to watch her behavior for a few hours after she wakes up to make sure she’s alright, no memory loss or cognitive behavior inhibition or anything like that.”
“Why?” This time the nurse understood what the question really meant.
“It’s her body’s way of getting the recuperation time she needs. She was under great stress, we can tell that from the brain scans. The bump on her head didn’t help things. And she put herself under great physical duress, yelling like that. She came perilously close to rupturing a minor blood vessel near her brain. That’s why her body shut down, to prevent that from happening. It was a defense mechanism.” The nurse watched Gerard’s face for signs of emotion. If she could gauge how he was feeling, she could navigate from there. He still looked horrified, but now his expression was tinged with guilt. Probably had something to do with that bump, she thought. Looks like she did a number on him too. He had a lovely bruise under his eye that was blooming in dark violet. There were other small spots peppering his face, varying in color from sickly gold to gray to dark blue. There were also some angry red scratches near his hairline and along his arms. She would have to remember to give the tiny girl the number of the Domestic Abuse Hotline before she left. Perhaps this battered young man too.
~*~
She could hear soft sounds. They were golden thread in the air, weaving in and around her, brushing her face, asking for a smile. Such beautiful sounds. In a soft, sweet voice. La voce dell'arcangelo. The angel was singing to her. Mama said they sing for me. And now she heard her mother’s voice too, her mother’s strong, rich voice, quiet like it used to be when she was small and her mother would sing as they sat on the beach at night and watched the waves, joining with the angel’s.
Nanna oh, nanna oh,
il mio bambino a chi lo do?
Lo darò al suo angiolino
che lo tenga fino al mattino,
lo darò alla befana
che lo tenga una settimana.
Nanna oh, nanna oh
il mio bambino a chi lo do?
Lo darò al suo cherubino
che lo tenga A sé vicino.
Lo darò a Gesù e Maria,
fai la nanna e così sia.
Nanna oh, nanna oh......
She remembered where her mother had gone and such disappointment fell on her chest as to crush her. Somewhere in the back of her head, a steady beep that had been there all along sped up. Hot, sluggish tears stung her eyelids and rolled wet paths down her cheeks but she didn’t move. It never occurred to her to move.
There the voice was again. Singing, her angel was singing. Not her mama anymore, she had fallen silent, now it was the angel all alone like before, in the beginning.
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give the morning
Which the angels pull onward
And the wonder today holds
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give
The cherub to call you his friend
To Jesus and Maria
Sleep and on to them you’ll go
Sleep oh, sleep oh…
The voice. She knew this angel. She loved this angel. Dreamy images drifted across her eyelids. A two toned eye, green and golden-brown; White skin; Expressive hands; Shining black hair, tumbled in every direction. A smile that made her throat close and heart swell and made her smile back. The voice rose and fell and swelled and ebbed as the words were painted. Higher there, then swooping low like a lark diving. Now soft and airy. Rich rumbling tones edged in here. She breathed a sigh. This angel made her feel at peace.
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give the morning
Which the angels pull onward
And the wonder today holds
Sleep oh, sleep oh, my child
To whom I give
The cherub to call you his friend
To Jesus and Maria
Sleep and on to them you’ll go
Sleep oh, sleep oh…
She squeezed her eyelids together tightly, then opened them to peer through the cracks. There was the angel now, glowing contrasts of black and white. He sat in front of a window, the sunlight creating a divine, blinding halo around his head. She almost laughed, his presence brought her such great relief. She had no idea why, she didn’t realize she had been feeling anything that would warrant any kind of relieved feelings. She continued to watch. He sat in front of the window, his head leaning back against the sill. If she squinted, she could see his eyes were closed. He was no longer singing, but humming the tune of the lullaby, melodious and carrying. It was all so overwhelming. She caught her breath in her throat, tears swimming in her eyes once again. He heard and the music ceased. But he didn’t move, just listened. He’d had too many false alarms today to jump up again, sure to be disappointed. Better not to hope.
“Don’t stop.” His eyes snapped open. There she was, deathly white in pallor and staring at him hard as she could, eyes shining and the left half of her mouth smiling. Up and directly beside her, he made it in a stride and a half. Once next to her, he simply stood and stared. She stared back and her mind cleared and her eyes dried and her breathing slowed and her heart quieted. They stared without speaking for a time.
“I said don’t stop. Are you a deaf, or just a dumb bastard?” And he laughed uproariously. He couldn’t help but notice how remarkably angelic she looked. She laughed as well, marveling at his beauty and the way his laugh could make her feel.
Author’s Note: La voce dell’arcangelo means the voice of the archangel. It’s Italian. I bet you kinda figured that out. This lullaby is traditional Italian, and the English version is a VERY loose translation. Read, rate and review if the idea suits you. You know what I like ;]
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