Post by uthas on Jan 16, 2007 4:25:55 GMT -5
This is the start of the novel that I'm trying to write. It's a sort of prologue.
********************
I was walking around behind the 7-11 when I found the angel. I'd gone back there to toss some old trash from my car into the dumpster, and I spotted a trickle of what looked like oil or syrup on the pavement. It was coming from around behind the dumpster, sort of pooling near the wheels. I've seen enough CSI to be suspicious of pools of thick liquid in dark alleys, so I took a quick look behind the big metal box. I wasn't really all that surprised when I saw someone laying on the ground. I was surprised that it had a huge set of wings growing out of its back.
Now, when most people think of an angel, they think of a big, muscle bound blond guy with a wingspan that stretches out to the tips of his fingers. I can tell you that image couldn't be more wrong. These wings were huge. I mean huge. They were all bent up and broken, but they still poked up above the dumpster by a few feet, half-folded. They must have been twenty feet to a wing. It was one of those situations where you see something gigantic in front of you that you hadn't noticed before, and after seeing it wondered how on earth you possibly could have missed it.
The way the wings were bent up it would have been obvious to Mr. Ed that they were broken. There was a fatter part on the front of each wing, a bone of some kind I guess, that was angled sharply in some unnatural directions, even breaking what I think was skin in some places. For some reason I'll always have a very clear memory of a large chunk of bone poking out, and wondering why it was pitch black instead of white. I could see that these big splits in the angel's flesh were where the blood was coming from.
The thing's skin was this pale, faded yellowish colour. It looked like it had had some kind of old disease that you read about in frontier books – wan and wasted away. I could see its ribs clearly through the tightly stretched skin on its torso. I remember that as soon as I noticed that, I noticed that it was naked. The only thing covering it was blood and feathers. It was sprawled in such a way that all of the important bits were covered, like an old photo or painting, so I couldn't tell whether it was male or female, or both, or neither. I tried to steer my mind away from that, afraid that if I pursued the train of thought any farther I'd be burned alive on the spot.
That winter had been cold as Hell, to use a non-Abrahamic phrase. Way colder than the last few, it was getting down below freezing almost every night for the last few weeks before I found the angel. The weathermen were sweating to keep their jobs, and people were freaking out every time they had to drive anywhere. The only thing that had gotten me out of the house that day was that I'd had to park my car in the lot of the store the night before and walk the last four miles home. There were just too many cars stuck in the middle of the road for me to pass. I'd walked back that evening to pick it up, and decided to toss some trash in the dumpster while I was there anyway.
The pool of blood on the ground was steaming. I'm not sure if you've had the experience of seeing blood steam in the cold, but it's not something you forget easily. It wasn't just the blood that was making the steam, either. It was actually melting through the crusted ice and snow, which was running away in streams from the thick red liquid and refreezing in a pattern that looked a lot like a lava flow. For a second I had a weird flashback to the beginning of Alien, where the creatures blood starts eating through the decks of the ship, and they're all afraid it's going to reach the outer hull and space them all. I was wondering if the blood was going to eat it's way all the way down to the magma layer of the Earth and start a volcano right there in the parking lot of the 7-11.
Now, I want to take a step back for a moment. I'm making it seem like I stood there calmly and rationally examined what was in front of me. That's not how it happened. I'm not sure why I can remember such detail about seeing it for the first time, but I can. That's where I'm getting the nitty-gritty. I can still remember it all perfectly, and this far out I'm able to write it down with some semblance of cohesiveness. I think at the time I dropped a glass Sobe bottle, which promptly shattered, and said something like “Holy shit.” Ironic.
I think the sound of the glass breaking must have woken it up. Either that or it was awake already and just playing dead when it heard me come up. But, when that bottle hit the ground, it lifted its head up and looked at me. If I hadn't been so sure that doing so would have sent me straight to Hell, do not pass Go, I would have shit myself. The thing's eyes . . .hard to describe. They were incredibly dark, and huge. Bigger than the bottom of a soda can. The pupils covered most of them, but as it focused on me, I watched them telescope down to pinpricks. It looked like the iris was a shade of black as well.
The angel's head was a little more oval shaped than that of a normal person. It had kind of a rounded point on top, like an egg. The crown of its head was bald, and I could see scrapes and abrasions. The rest of its head was covered with long, incredibly wispy and fine hair. It might have been blond once, but now it was an almost albino white. Blowing around in the wind it probably would have looked like a ghost or something. Right then it was matted with blood and stuck to the damn thing's wings.
I looked at it, and it looked at me. I looked at it looking at me. I shivered in the breeze. I looked down at the broken glass, now mixed with the angel's blood. I looked away, back to my car. Basically I stood there with my dick in my hand, not knowing what to do.
The angel stared at me for what seemed like years. I mean, people toss that phrase around pretty casually when they want to say something important and tense happened. “That meeting went on for a million years.” That's not how I'm using it. I mean the angel stared at me for what seemed like YEARS. I felt as though I was aging right there on the spot, watching my life race ahead of me, standing in the alley behind a 7-11, with an angel. If it had stared at me any longer, I'm pretty sure I would have died of old age, and they only would have found some bleached bones.
But it didn't. It closed its huge eyes, and lay its head back on the ground. Then it spoke to me for the first time. I expected a thunderclap of a voice, an explosion of sound that would vaporize my flesh from my bones. “MOSES LOOK AWAY”. Something like that. At least for it to sound like Orson Wells. Instead, the voice sounded reedy and thin. It was like an old man whining about his medicine to a nurse. “I fell.”
I cannot fathom what possessed me in the next moment. Maybe it was some kind of nurturing instinct I'd kept locked away for years. Maybe I felt sorry for the thing, broken and confused. Maybe I just went insane. I said, “Well, then let's pick you back up.” and bent down to help it.
********************
I was walking around behind the 7-11 when I found the angel. I'd gone back there to toss some old trash from my car into the dumpster, and I spotted a trickle of what looked like oil or syrup on the pavement. It was coming from around behind the dumpster, sort of pooling near the wheels. I've seen enough CSI to be suspicious of pools of thick liquid in dark alleys, so I took a quick look behind the big metal box. I wasn't really all that surprised when I saw someone laying on the ground. I was surprised that it had a huge set of wings growing out of its back.
Now, when most people think of an angel, they think of a big, muscle bound blond guy with a wingspan that stretches out to the tips of his fingers. I can tell you that image couldn't be more wrong. These wings were huge. I mean huge. They were all bent up and broken, but they still poked up above the dumpster by a few feet, half-folded. They must have been twenty feet to a wing. It was one of those situations where you see something gigantic in front of you that you hadn't noticed before, and after seeing it wondered how on earth you possibly could have missed it.
The way the wings were bent up it would have been obvious to Mr. Ed that they were broken. There was a fatter part on the front of each wing, a bone of some kind I guess, that was angled sharply in some unnatural directions, even breaking what I think was skin in some places. For some reason I'll always have a very clear memory of a large chunk of bone poking out, and wondering why it was pitch black instead of white. I could see that these big splits in the angel's flesh were where the blood was coming from.
The thing's skin was this pale, faded yellowish colour. It looked like it had had some kind of old disease that you read about in frontier books – wan and wasted away. I could see its ribs clearly through the tightly stretched skin on its torso. I remember that as soon as I noticed that, I noticed that it was naked. The only thing covering it was blood and feathers. It was sprawled in such a way that all of the important bits were covered, like an old photo or painting, so I couldn't tell whether it was male or female, or both, or neither. I tried to steer my mind away from that, afraid that if I pursued the train of thought any farther I'd be burned alive on the spot.
That winter had been cold as Hell, to use a non-Abrahamic phrase. Way colder than the last few, it was getting down below freezing almost every night for the last few weeks before I found the angel. The weathermen were sweating to keep their jobs, and people were freaking out every time they had to drive anywhere. The only thing that had gotten me out of the house that day was that I'd had to park my car in the lot of the store the night before and walk the last four miles home. There were just too many cars stuck in the middle of the road for me to pass. I'd walked back that evening to pick it up, and decided to toss some trash in the dumpster while I was there anyway.
The pool of blood on the ground was steaming. I'm not sure if you've had the experience of seeing blood steam in the cold, but it's not something you forget easily. It wasn't just the blood that was making the steam, either. It was actually melting through the crusted ice and snow, which was running away in streams from the thick red liquid and refreezing in a pattern that looked a lot like a lava flow. For a second I had a weird flashback to the beginning of Alien, where the creatures blood starts eating through the decks of the ship, and they're all afraid it's going to reach the outer hull and space them all. I was wondering if the blood was going to eat it's way all the way down to the magma layer of the Earth and start a volcano right there in the parking lot of the 7-11.
Now, I want to take a step back for a moment. I'm making it seem like I stood there calmly and rationally examined what was in front of me. That's not how it happened. I'm not sure why I can remember such detail about seeing it for the first time, but I can. That's where I'm getting the nitty-gritty. I can still remember it all perfectly, and this far out I'm able to write it down with some semblance of cohesiveness. I think at the time I dropped a glass Sobe bottle, which promptly shattered, and said something like “Holy shit.” Ironic.
I think the sound of the glass breaking must have woken it up. Either that or it was awake already and just playing dead when it heard me come up. But, when that bottle hit the ground, it lifted its head up and looked at me. If I hadn't been so sure that doing so would have sent me straight to Hell, do not pass Go, I would have shit myself. The thing's eyes . . .hard to describe. They were incredibly dark, and huge. Bigger than the bottom of a soda can. The pupils covered most of them, but as it focused on me, I watched them telescope down to pinpricks. It looked like the iris was a shade of black as well.
The angel's head was a little more oval shaped than that of a normal person. It had kind of a rounded point on top, like an egg. The crown of its head was bald, and I could see scrapes and abrasions. The rest of its head was covered with long, incredibly wispy and fine hair. It might have been blond once, but now it was an almost albino white. Blowing around in the wind it probably would have looked like a ghost or something. Right then it was matted with blood and stuck to the damn thing's wings.
I looked at it, and it looked at me. I looked at it looking at me. I shivered in the breeze. I looked down at the broken glass, now mixed with the angel's blood. I looked away, back to my car. Basically I stood there with my dick in my hand, not knowing what to do.
The angel stared at me for what seemed like years. I mean, people toss that phrase around pretty casually when they want to say something important and tense happened. “That meeting went on for a million years.” That's not how I'm using it. I mean the angel stared at me for what seemed like YEARS. I felt as though I was aging right there on the spot, watching my life race ahead of me, standing in the alley behind a 7-11, with an angel. If it had stared at me any longer, I'm pretty sure I would have died of old age, and they only would have found some bleached bones.
But it didn't. It closed its huge eyes, and lay its head back on the ground. Then it spoke to me for the first time. I expected a thunderclap of a voice, an explosion of sound that would vaporize my flesh from my bones. “MOSES LOOK AWAY”. Something like that. At least for it to sound like Orson Wells. Instead, the voice sounded reedy and thin. It was like an old man whining about his medicine to a nurse. “I fell.”
I cannot fathom what possessed me in the next moment. Maybe it was some kind of nurturing instinct I'd kept locked away for years. Maybe I felt sorry for the thing, broken and confused. Maybe I just went insane. I said, “Well, then let's pick you back up.” and bent down to help it.