Angel Aguilar
Bio
Hello,
Welcome to my writing world where I practice my short stories, poetry, and free writes
✨Instagram: Aguilarwrites
Stories (16)
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Whispers of The Soul
I tasted death in the air, like cigarette ashes on my tongue. The thick woodsy flames that rose up on my father left patches of missing skin. His oils didn’t help with the stiff, leathery, charred-black skin that never grew back. It smelled like bleach and gasoline with a sharp stench of acrid.
By Angel Aguilar6 months ago in Critique
The Love Lady Rodgers Lost
In the heart of the 1800s, in the grand southern Queendom of Levthia, there lived a belle named Kaylin Rodgers. Upon her chest rested a brass crown, adorned with a delicate heart at its center, from which a single diamond hung like a drop of morning dew. This crown was a precious heirloom, passed down by her grandmother Agatha—the emblem of a love so rare it was said to bloom but once in a lifetime.
By Angel Aguilar6 months ago in Fiction
Shasha and the Leopard King
Note: This is for my children's picture book. That's why it's very short. It is also unedited. The Forest smelled like frosted Scones from a bakery, sweet and buttery. Shasha could see the oozing cotton candy smelling from each tree's branches, forming a rain puddle around them. As Shasha walks through the forest, she heard something.
By Angel Aguilar7 months ago in Critique
Whispers of New Blood. Content Warning.
BLUE DEMON I can still taste death in the air, like cigarette ashes on my tongue. The flames that rose on my father left patches of missing skin. His oils from his body didn’t help with the stiff, leathery, charred-black skin that never grew back. It smelt like bleach and gasoline with a sharp stench of acrid. A vacant body. More like a dissolved shell. Midnight falls and I look out my Hexagon shaped window, thinking to myself. If I only listened to mom, he would still be here. I could smell the sour blood that stained the wooden Oak tree. I could only see the shadows of my late father sprinting through the woods. My mother, Emillia, doesn't believe in the soul running freely after one’s physical body is dismantled. She would say that's the devil's work. When my father would run off doing rituals with los Muertos, My mother would grip her silver, metal cross in her hands and shut her eyes while reciting words that would bring her to weeping tears. “Please forgive him lord, for he has sinned a great sin.” Falling to her knees and crying out to the lord. Though My father Daniel, was a believer of God, but more spiritual than religious. My father believed in blessing the rooms with sage, and praying to God but also to deities. One moment he would pray to God for prosperity, and when God didn’t answer him as fast as he wanted, the deities acted on his timing. It feels like it was only yesterday, where I would smell the musky, savory, forest-like scent, and white smoke coming from a green, thick, grassy wand. “I call upon Elegua, illustrious warrior and divine messenger of the Yoruba pantheon. I ask for your protection and guidance on our journey through life. Grant my family and I health, safety, and success with utmost importance. Bless me with a shield against negative energies or evil eyes that may harm me. Help me defeat any enemies or obstacles in my path so I can use all the amazing gifts life presents. May the sacred act of lighting your candle bring great possibilities into my present and future. Ashe.”
By Angel Aguilar10 months ago in Fiction
The Heart of the Forest
The Forest smelled like frosted Scones from a bakery, sweet and buttery. Shasha could see the oozing cotton candy smelling pink blood dripping from each tree's branches, forming a rain puddle around them. As Shasha walks through the forest, she hears something.
By Angel Aguilar10 months ago in Fiction
