Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Flightless Turd

Gasping for air, Carter James is looking around wide-eyed and terrified. His clothes are soaked and he's lying on the rooftop of the Victorian, dumbfounded that he's still alive. The last thing he remembered was falling, falling, falling and then darkness.

Was he in heaven? Or could he be in hell? He had this strange memory of a dark angelic woman sweeping down to his rescue, like a raven in the sky he thought he was to die. Remembering her soft brown hands firmly grasping him under his arms and being lifted upwards. The only real recollection of memory he has is the singing of the only folk song, "I'll Fly Away", in his head as he his eyes began to dim and his breathing began to slow down.

"I'll fly away, fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away. If I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away." Convinced he had been dreaming, he's awoken from his unconscious state by a startling bolt of lightning strikes the top of the building next to the Victorian. It begins to pour.



Without thinking about what I'm going to say, I decided to step out into the open, wings retracted of course. I don't know how much he saw or remembers. The frightened expression on his face he gives me when I come out from behind the electrical box.

Lightning strikes again and my face is illuminated by the flash. He starts to sputter out verbiage.
"Ittt it it it was you, wasn't it?"
Before I can say anything  a bolt of lightning strikes the electrical box and a fury of sparks fly sending me tumbling forward and all the lights in the building to go out.

I get to my feet.
"maybe we should go inside and talk things over, I'll cook."


"So. How are you feeling?"
I say as I pop a frozen pizza in the oven
After a long silence he starts spewing questions out all at once.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT BACK THERE? I THOUGHT I WAS DEAD? THEN YOU...DID YOU FLY? WHAT HAPPENED? I BLACKED OUT? WERE YOU SINGING? I really liked your singing...WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"
Sighing heavily, I remember that the power is out and my pizza is not getting any warmer.
I take a breath, focusing in on his forehead which is perspiring with sweat. My stomach growls. Flying makes you hungry.
"Let's go get some food." I say. Walking out the door, not waiting for Mr. Carter James to follow me out.

1 comment:

  1. Others should see him. You probably should give the reader a bit more direction. The story is short. The blogs seem to add detail that doesn't necessarily add to the mystery. Come back and see what is not moving the story toward your purpose.

    ReplyDelete