When I was fourteen, I saw an angel. It was likely 8 feet tall. And looking at it was like looking at the sun.
I wake at 2.30am. Someone is shaking me, asking me about canons. I don’t remember. ‘What would it be like, to meet an angel?’ they say. Their voice jumps in soundbites.
‘Hell, that would be a wondrous thing,’ I breathe words into darkness, but all those years ago I just ran. All the way back across the fields without stopping. And I slammed the backdoor so hard the windows in the front room rattled. Even Mam looked at me long enough to ask if I was okay.
I said, ‘Yeah, just been runnin.’ Feels like I’ve been running ever since. I never said anything about the angel.
The voice calls again, dead leaves on the wind, ‘Hush little one, remember the canons.’ But when I think about anything, all I remember is the last time I thought about it.
I search through an anatomy of corrupted files. Looking for answers when the damn truth was lost in the first telling. When I was fourteen, I saw an angel. And everything since then has been a lie.
Canons shake me awake again, I don’t even know I’m sleeping.
© 2017 jac forsyth
Weird and wonderful. It’s like reading one of my own memories somehow.
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Dreamscape like in both atmosphere and imagery, eerily rendered in my mind. Beautiful Jac.
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I’m not surprised. Your writing inspires me to up my game, stands to reason it would reflect in how I write 🎈
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🎈🎈 Steve, you shine with the beautiful of your words 🎈🎈
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Wow, that’s a very kind thing to say. Now I’m going to have to push myself harder. Damn it, Jac. 😉
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Haha, haha, now you know how I feel when I read your stuff.
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Beautiful as usual.
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Awww thanks, babe. Loved your, Cause of Death piece today,
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What I like best about this, is that the angel frightens me.
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It frightens me too, and I wrote it.
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Cos you’re so damn good!
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We enrich one another’s tapestries, my friend. That, and further weaving, is why we’re here. Love your work. 👊
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Haha, angels are pretty damn scary to begin with. Many hugs, bionic babe.
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Thank you! ❤
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True dat. Thanks, mate. Love the return of the pasty.
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You got it!
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Beautiful! Anticipating haunting dreams of pale angels offering donuts tonight after visiting Kindra and you past my bedtime. Love it! 😉
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Your pieces are always fascinating to read Jac – there’s always a balance between beauty and horror and this one is no exception. I’m also entirely convinced I’d have legged it at the sight of an 8ft angel as well.
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Haha, I had a dream about someone trying (and failing) to teach me how to can-can. Couple that with donuts and scary angels and we have season one of a US fantasy drama.
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Haha, thanks Nik. I saw a large eagle at a bird sanctuary once, it looked at me like I was the exhibit. Beauty and horror.
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Beautiful writing.
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Thanks Moushmi, you are awesome.
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Damn effective running 👍 The mind wanders with this one, great hook.
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Haha, told you, I’m a runner not a fighter.
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Thank u v much for becoming my 200th Follower!
A special cake is on order
I like a blog where th only predictability is th unpredictability – glad that #200 is this site, and not just somebody trying to sell me something
Cheers!
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Hazaar! I shall wear a tiara.
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Goody gumdrops – I’m so glad!
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This stopped me. Damn I get it psychologically. I feel the ‘sense’ and the sensing, the strangeness. Very powerful.
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Thank you! 💕 I’m writing at night lately, thoughts seem to have a different quality to them. It’s all a bit tortured artist, with slippers.
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Would it make me a dark a gloomy soul if I appreciated the tortured bents?
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Actually, it might help me to open up about the weird stuff.
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Haha, seems to me they never did Kafka any harm ☠
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Whew 🙂
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Ah-ha, a bit of perilous writing!
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Yeah I can’t. Was sitting here thinking about it and feeling the freeze. It was stupid experience that would be minimized by words alone.
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I wish we lived closer, mate.
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I need to get back to humor and poetry 🙂
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🎶 I seem to be wearing a tiara and talking to a woman in France about septic tanks. It’s a strange world, sometimes I wonder if poetry and laughter is all there ever was to know.
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hahaha
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Sez she talks to angels. Sez they all know her name…
Great piece here!
I’ve believed myself in communication with angels before. To me, they were mighty mighty. I ran as well.
Peace,
Uttley
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So many wondrous things have been sanitised and remade in the image of man. Running away has many different outfits methinks. Love the peace ☮ thanks, babe.
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