Tag Archives: angel

Fall From Desire – Part 1

30 May


swamp-fallen angel-Vashti Quiroz-Vega

Artist Victoria Frances

Hello! I’m almost done with the editing of my Dark Fantasy novel, The Fall of Lilith. I’m very excited with the way it’s turning out and soon I will post an excerpt from the book. In the meantime, I bring you today Part 1 of my short story Fall From Desire. It is a dark fantasy written in a similar style to The Fall of Lilith, the first installment of my Fantasy Angels Series. I hope you enjoy. 



Fall From Desire

by Vashti Q



For my transgressions, I was cast out of Heaven and exiled to planet Earth.


My fall was brutal as my six large wings caught fire entering the Earth’s atmosphere. I cringed, cried and screamed as the flames consumed feathers and flesh. I looped and spiraled in the air, all the while stirring and reaching toward the flames, but there was no relief from the oppressive pain or the desperate stench of roasted fleshy tissue. The fire was quenched when only the burnt bones of my wings remained. I wailed writhing in the air as the bony frames were yanked from my skeleton by a powerful force. This is what the male angels I led astray with my insatiable carnal appetite experienced as they fell from grace. I deserve worse for corrupting so many.


I splashed into a swamp.


It was night, and the only light source was the brilliance of a full moon.


The swamp was dominated by woody plants and teeming with animal life. The water seemed to push down on me from all sides. I floundered and flailed my arms and legs, but it only made me sink faster. I sank further and further in the swamp and away from the light of the moon. Soon, I was shrouded in darkness. My lungs burned for air. In horror, I screamed and warm, murky water filled my lungs. I shook and convulsed as my eyes caught site of alligators, snakes and all manner of swamp creatures witnessing the water take me away.


My eyes snapped open. I was floating over the water. I survived? I was not sure how long I was unconscious, only that it was a different night—for the moon was no longer full. I trembled in fear and remained still, allowing the current to carry me wherever it may. As I came near the bank of the swamp, I took hold of a cypress’s knee, clambered to my feet and waded out of the water. I teetered and faltered, inexperienced in walking without wings. I am no longer an angel. Realization pierced my heart. What am I now? I broke the rules of celibacy in Heaven and tempted so many to do the same with my female ways. My lustful desires and sexual appetite were my ruin. Now I am alone, never to feel the pleasure of a caress.


My wide eyes flickered in every direction, trying to find a way out of the desolate and wild place. The strong, musky smell of decomposing vegetation and animal matter wafted into my nose, making me grimace with revulsion. There were no such smells in Heaven. Oh, how far I have gone from Heaven’s joyful fragrances!


I staggered in circles, my feet sinking into the spongy, wet ground. The moisture was so dense in this habitat that everything was wet. A film of moisture covered my naked body. Water soaked my long, blonde hair and pulled my curls flat. I heard the hooting of an owl. My eyes lifted to a nearby tree and there it was, lurking in the shadows. Its large glowing eyes stared at me. Snakes slithered around my feet. Alligators peered at me with their strange eyes peeking over the surface of the water while they remained immersed. Where am I? There are only wetlands as far as my eyes can see. How am I to survive here? Do I desire survival? My body trembled, and desperate tears fell and blended with the moisture on my face. No one can hear me cry. I am alone. I continued to walk for miles. There were many sunrises and many moonrises, yet I remained alone in a world of swamps.


Swarms of mosquitos tormented me with their stinging and their buzzing in my ears. I had to deter countless attacks from snakes and alligators. I was covered in welts, bumps, scratches, and bites from such attacks. My body itched, ached, and throbbed mercilessly. I deserve no less for sating my erotic desires without a second thought for the countless archangels, seraphim, and cherubim I debauched with my impious and lustful ways.


I continued to trek the soggy swampland and began to feel an unfamiliar burning sensation in my middle. My strength was depleting, and I became fatigued. I dragged my feet and panted. Feeling faint, I collapsed. I lay on the water-saturated ground and looked up at the heavens. What is happening to me? What have I become? I lay frozen for hours, feeling so alone, waving off a plethora of insects trying to invade my body. I would rather draw my last breath than spend the rest of my days alone in this sodden nightmare.


“What are you?” I heard a masculine voice ask. I jolted upright in a seated position.  I stared at a magnificent creature.


“I-I do not know what I am. I have only knowledge of what I used to be.”


“Very well, then what were you?” he asked with a curious look on his face.


“I was once called Rachiel,” I said. “When I was an angel in Heaven.”


He looked at me sideways and narrowed his eyes. “You do not look like an angel to me.”


“Have you ever seen an angel?”


“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, and angels have wings.”


I, too, had wings. Large white wings—six of them,” I said, my voice quavering. “They were torn from me as I fell through the skies.”


He scrutinized me for a while with his piercing violet-blue eyes.


“I believe you. I am not sure why, but I do. Perhaps it is that something in your verdant eyes that tells me you do not know how to lie,” he said, and his big smile was stunning. “My name is Mendrion.” He was tall with a muscular build. His hair was long, thick and the color of night. Long, heavy eyelashes framed his violet-blue eyes. His skin was like an ivory mist. He looked like divine pleasure. Enough, Rachiel! This is why you were cast out of Heaven! I shuddered and got out of my own head.


Artist Victoria Frances

Artist Victoria Frances


Copyright © 2014 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.

Check out PART 2 of Fall From Desire


When A Stranger Leaves An Imprint

31 Jul

Pretty face Blake Lively

Illustrated by Amro (deviantART)



Hello everyone! Thank you for stopping by. A couple of weeks ago I posted a story written by me called It Happened In An Elevator. My post today is a continuation of that story. If you have not read “It Happened In An Elevator” perhaps you should do so prior to reading this one. (Just click on the linked title above)



I saw her today. I was descending subway steps when I noticed a blonde standing on the platform, waiting for a train. Something about her stance and profile was familiar. I stumbled and nearly knocked over a silver-haired lady as I hurried past her. I couldn’t yell out her name because I didn’t know it.



When A Stranger Leaves An Imprint

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

Three feet away from her, I came to a sudden standstill. I stared at her, my brows knit so tight my head began to throb. My heart beat loudly in my ears, drowning out all sounds except the screeching halt of the train. I tried to reach out and touch her on the shoulder to make her aware of my existence. What if she doesn’t remember me? My arms felt like lead. I couldn’t lift them. It was the hotel elevator all over again.

The train doors opened. She walked in. I could follow her in and get off at the next stop if things didn’t work out. She’s not going to remember me. Uncertain, I stepped back. The train doors closed. My eyes followed her as she made her way to the large train window before me. As she reached for the handle overhead, her gaze met mine, and her eyes opened wide with recognition. She smiled and waved hello! As the train began to move, she poked out her lower lip in disappointment and waved goodbye. She remembered me! I let her slip out of my life for a second time. I had two opportunities to meet her, and I hindered both chances. Would I ever get another chance?

The trip back to my apartment was a haze of depression, regret and self-loathing. I had a million questions running through my mind. What was she doing in New York City? Did she live here? I got home and sulked for a while, and then decided to go to bed. I lay there thinking of her face, her smile… She remembered me! I fell asleep.

Maybe an hour later, raps on the door jolted me awake.

“Who is it?” I called out, half-asleep.

There was no answer. I peered through the peephole, and my heart seized up. This couldn’t be! Open the door, idiot! I inhaled sharply and obeyed my inner voice. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The fetching stranger I had met a year ago in the elevator of a fancy hotel, the same beauty I had glimpsed in the train station, now stood before me.

“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked in a sultry voice.

I opened the door wider and gestured for her to enter.

“H-h-how did you find me?” I asked, feeling foolish.

“We can talk, or we can do. What is your pleasure?” She took my breath away with her words. “Come, we’ve both been yearning for this moment for so long. Lets not waste time. We can talk later.”

I rushed to her. My chest heaved with excitement. I grabbed her, trying to control my enthusiasm. I pushed her against the wall and began to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and warm, and as our lips joined, they seem to fuse together. All the nerves in my body were firing at once. Her hands caressed my bare chest and then slid around to my back. She pulled me closer. My hands worked their way around her body, caressing every curve. She gasped and tossed her head back. I nuzzled my face against her neck and kissed her repeatedly.I could hear her soft moans of pleasure as I continued to explore her body.



She reached for my boxer-briefs and began to lower them. My male organ sprang loose as my shorts slid to the floor. She lowered her eyes and then gave me a look of approval. She removed her tank top, revealing her magnificent breasts. Without hesitation, I reached for them. I held them, caressed them, kissed them. I could have made love to them. She held my face in her hands and pushed me away gently. She looked at my manhood and licked her lips. My body tensed, feeling the pressure build up in my most manly parts. She slinked down to a squatting position. She passed her hand over it and stared with the curiosity of a child.

“You’re so vigorous,” she said and slipped my head into her mouth.

My body went slack, and my eyelids became heavy. There are no words to describe the sensations that coursed through my body at that moment. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. Noises escaped my lips I did not recognize. I lowered my eyes to watch her in action. She looked up and smiled. She gripped my rear and took me in deeper, all the while gazing into my eyes. I was mesmerized.

Ring. Ring. Ring. I sat upright in bed. The irritating alarm clock woke me up at the best part of my dream. I tossed my blanket aside. “Ah, damn!” I was a mess. When was the last time I had a wet dream? I couldn’t remember. It was that long ago. I showered and got ready for work, still feeling the regret of the night before.

At work, I was not myself. I was quiet, serious and pensive, a pestering “What if?” hanging over my head.

“Hey, Gallo, ready to go to lunch?” said Antonio.

He was quickly becoming one of the best friends I’d ever had. We met when we were both promoted a few months ago and transferred to the NYC office—me from Boston, and he from Miami. There was only one position open at the NYC branch, and we both wanted it. We fought hard at that board meeting on the 5th floor of the Madison Avenue Hotel, and we both dazzled the sharks. They couldn’t bear to part with either of us, so they hired us both. We’ve been inseparable at work ever since.

“Yeah, I could use something to eat,” I muttered.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Come on. You’ve been moping around all day.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Antonio looked at me sideways. We had lunch at Marea on Central Park South. Great seafood. I began to feel better.

“I think it’s time,” said Antonio.

“Time for what?”

“I think it’s time I take you home for dinner.”

“Dude!” I laughed. “You’re not going to tell me you’re gay now, right?”

“No, jackass!” he laughed. “Besides, you wouldn’t be my type.”

“That hurts, dude.” We both laughed at my feigned disappointment.

“Seriously, how long have we known each other?” Antonio asked.

I shrugged. “About a year.”

“We’ve known each other for almost a year, and you’ve never even been to my place.”

“Well, we spend most of our time at work anyway.”

“True, my wife bitches about that all the time.”

“What did you call your wife?”

“Shut up!”

“I’ve never even met your wife,” I told him.

“That’s pathetic.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Alright, that’s it. This Friday, you’re going to have dinner at my house,” Antonio insisted.

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

With that, we paid for our lunch and returned to work.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Work kept me busy, and I had very little time to think of anything else. I was grateful. At the end of the day, I was exhausted. When I got home, I showered, had dinner and tried to do some work on my laptop, but I couldn’t concentrate. Maybe I was just too tired.

Her face appeared in my mind’s eye. I don’t even know her name. It’s funny how some people come into our lives and without saying a word, leave an imprint on our hearts. Moments like these always force me to think about my life. Where is it headed? I’m very successful now. That board meeting a year ago went just as I had planned, but what of my love life? Did I miss the opportunity to meet my soul mate? There’s a reason I can’t get her out of my mind. I believe we were meant to be together. I believe I will see her again, and this time nothing will stand in my way. Not my insecurities, not my fears— nothing!

I have so much—everything I’ve ever wanted. What good are all my possessions, this great life, if I can’t share them with someone I love? Of course, I have met other women and dated a great deal, but even with a night of physical activity, I have failed to achieve the level of passion I experienced with the lovely angel on that elevator. I must find her.

I’m lonely. Can I say that, living in a city of millions? I will find her.

The next day I was at the train station where I had seen her. I was there at the same time and in the same location. I waited for hours, but the angel never showed. I went back again, and she was a no-show once more.

Thursday, Antonio decided to work through lunch. It wasn’t like him to do that, but he said he was running behind. It was a gorgeous day—bright and sunny with a pleasant, cool breeze. Central park was very crowded. There was a band playing, which explained the multitudes. I tried to make my way through the crowd to my favorite restaurant. I scanned my surroundings, and my eyes stopped on a dream. There she was, her shiny blonde hair playing in the gentle breeze, and only a massive crowd between us.

I pushed and shoved my way among the masses, determined not to allow anyone or anything to get in the way of me talking to this woman. When I was but a short distance away, she noticed me in the crowd.

I waved and yelled, “Wait right there, please! Don’t move!”

I sensed the heat rising in my face. I finally stood before her, panting, and no doubt red-faced.

“Please tell me your name,” I implored.

She tilted her head to the side, scrunching her brows slightly, observing me for a moment, and then she finally smiled.


“My name is Charlise.” Her voice was soothing and mellifluous.

“My name is Ethan, Ethan Taylor” I blurted. “I know we’ve only had a brief encounter in an elevator, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day. When I saw you at the train station a few days ago, I felt it was a sign. You remembered me. We should explore this. I want to get to know you.”

I finally stopped babbling. Charlise stared wide-eyed at me, her eyebrows arched high, her mouth hanging open. I realized I had frightened her. I took a step toward her, and she backed away with her arms in front of her.

“Please, don’t fear me. I mean you no harm. I simply don’t want to miss another opportunity to get to know you,” I told her as gently as I could in my loud surroundings. I watched her shoulders relax, and her eyes gazed sweetly at me once again.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked.

“I do now,” I responded. She smiled, and it was like receiving oxygen after nearly suffocating in a sea of fear.

A short burst of wind blew her hair to mask her face. I reached out and gently straightened the strands of hair. We looked into each other’s eyes the entire time. After removing the last strands, I caressed her face. I noticed an eyelash on her cheek. I removed it with my finger and showed it to her.

“Make a wish,” I told her. She moved closer and shut her eyes. I recognized her perfume. When she opened her eyes again, she puckered her lips to blow the lash from my finger. Her lower lip touched my finger as she blew. I felt the warmth of her breath, and I swear the tip of my finger was connected to every nerve fiber of my being. My body quivered. She grinned, and I wanted to lose control. I craved to take her home. I longed to worship the art of her bare form. I had an overwhelming desire to touch her, taste her, melt into her very soul until the two of us became one.
“Charli, we have to leave. I can’t take this place anymore. My head is killing me,” a young brunette insisted as she tugged at my angel. “Who is this?” She looked at me with reproachful eyes.

“He’s an old friend,” responded Charlise. The brunette’s mouth tightened as she looked me up and down.

“We have to leave now. I’m serious! My head’s going to blow.”

“Alright, alright,” said Charlise, and then she looked at me. “It was nice running into you again. I have to go now.” Her voice was soft, sweet and sad. She wants to stay with me.

“Lets go! God!” shouted the brunette as she pulled her away.

Charlise waved good-bye and disappeared into the crowd. At least now I know her name, and she knows mine. Charlise. What a beautiful name. It was like a melody. We are meant to be together, and I will see her again soon.
I looked at my watch. It was time for me to head back to work. I served no purpose in my office that afternoon. Erotic thoughts of my angel plagued me. I took hold of my manhood and stroked it with thoughts of her until all that was left in my wake was a load of discarded frenzy.

Friday came around. Antonio had been reminding me about our dinner date twenty times a day for the past few days. Needless to say, I was glad the day had finally arrived. At the end of the day, I told him I would make a pit stop at home to shower and dress, and then meet him at his house for dinner.

I arrived at Antonio’s house at seven o’clock. He greeted me at the door.

“Ethan, my brother, welcome to my humble abode,” he said dramatically.

We grinned at each other, and then he took me by surprise when he embraced me. In a very manly manner, of course—crushing me like a boa constrictor and patting me on the back so hard, I thought I would cough up blood.

“Dude! Take it easy!” I laughed.

“I’m sorry, Gallo, I’m just happy to see you in my house.”

“Alright, alright, let’s not get emotional.” I shook my head disapprovingly while Antonio laughed.

I sat on his couch, and he got me a drink. I was relaxed and happy to be there.

“My wife will be out in a moment. You know how women are. It doesn’t matter how much time they have to get ready. It’s like they’re allergic to being on time.”

“I’m right here,” said a female voice. I stood to greet her.  “Hello it’s nice to…” her words were strangled by the look of agony on my face.

I could hardly stand. My hands were shaking. There was an awkward silence while we stared at each other. Her face wore a perturbed grimace. Finally, my eyes fell to the ground. Inside, my chest blazed a firestorm. I was lightheaded. I slumped and held on to my knees.

“What’s going on?” asked Antonio.

I looked up at his puzzled face, and then glanced at hers. Her eyes were wide imploring me to keep my silence. I regained control of myself. I took a deep breath, and stood upright.

“I’ve been feeling poorly all day,” I lied. “I believe I’m coming down with something.”

“Why didn’t you say something at work?” asked Antonio.

“I knew how much you’ve been looking forward to having me over for dinner and to meet your wife. I didn’t want to disappoint.”

Antonio shook his head. “I would have simply made a change of plans, my friend.”

“I can’t stay, Antonio. I’m sorry. I thought I could visit for a couple of hours, but I can’t. I hope I didn’t ruin dinner for you.”

“Of course not. We’ll do this again another night.”



I looked at his wife, gripped in pain. I swallowed hard. “It was nice meeting you, and I’m sorry.” It took everything I had to say those words.

“Please don’t be sorry,” said she tenderly her eyes glittering.

“You have an angel for a wife, Antonio,” I said as I watched him smile and nod.

He put his arm around her, twisting the knife already lodged deep in my heart. Inside, I winced in pain. On the outside, I mustered a weak smile and walked away, certain that my best friend would be holding my true love, my angel, in his arms tonight.

Copyright © 2013 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.










Stop looking for the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight.

28 Mar

Stop looking for the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight.

Hello everyone and welcome. Thank you for stopping by. I came across this touching poem on Google+ and I had to share it. Sometimes we feel as though we’re being pulled in many different directions and it’s hard to focus on what’s really important. If we could only stop and take a deep breath, silence our minds, forget about all the petty stuff and focus on all the little blessings, we’d be much happier. We can either wallow and complain about what’s wrong in our life, or we can realize once and for all that life isn’t fair and it never will be. So lets celebrate the good in our lives. Don’t sweat the small stuff. 



It’s not too late… the angel said.

Even though the world’s a mess…

Even though you’re not as young…

Even though you’ve made mistakes and have been afraid

It’s not too late…

And then I saw the world through the angels’ eyes…

I saw the colors I could paint

The bridges I could build

The lives that I could touch

The dreams that could still come true

And it became very clear to me…

That it’s not too late.

~Written by Ron Atchison

So what are you celebrating today?