Angel Dust
by John Wolf
The drive to my brother's house didn't seem that bad, with the snow, in the dark. I know these roads like the back of my hand. My concentration was peaked with a solid white road ahead. I centered between the fence lines running up next to the forest. It was quite beautiful gliding smoothly around the curves. The moon on the snow, the trees draped with white billowed bows. Wham! Something hit the windshield.
"Holy crap. What the..."
I applied the brakes slowly and rolled to a stop. It looked like a white bird hit the center of the glass. A spider web of cracks spiraled out from the impact point.
"Great." I got out. At least the snowing had stopped. I looked at the object. No feathers. It looked like satin cloth fluttering gracefully in the air. I saw legs and arms, all very small. A doll, a very real looking doll.
I shot a glace up and around. Where could it have come from? I reached over and pulled the object loose from the glass. It fell against the hood and tumbled to the ground face up. It was an angel. It looked so real.
In a hand was a roll of paper. I pulled it free and tucked it in my coat.
Just then a light appeared around the object, a very bright light. I stepped back as the light spread out. I slid back along the side of the truck. Small flakes of snow began to fall. I heard a crisp crackling sound. I moved closer to see the angel break apart. It turned into a fine white dust that drifted up in a spiral like smoke off a cigarette in a darkened room. The light faded and was gone.
I stood there stunned. I almost started laughing. I killed an angel! Hah. I moved around the truck to get a closer look in the headlights. It was gone. All I could see was the yellow line on the pavement where the snow had melted away from the intense light.
I looked at the windshield and decide the trip to Brad's house was out.
"Man, I'm gonna miss Jenny's cooking tonight." The practical side of me said that window is about ready to cave in. Not a good thing in this weather. I got in the truck, made the call to Brad with the bad news I had a vehicle problem, turned around, and went back home.
When I got out of the truck, I glanced at the windshield. Something was jammed on the top edge above the impact. I pulled a ring loose. It sparkled and then turn dull gray.
"Wow. The halo. Jeez." I threw it on the ground.
I popped the door open and Russell, my half malamute, half german shepherd lifted his head from the hearth. The coals were still glowing.
"Hi Russ. Guess what? I hit an angel tonight." I snickered as I pushed him aside and threw a few logs on the coals. "Looks like we're eating at home tonight."
I turned on the kitchen light, pulled off my coat, and took the rolled up paper from my pocket. I spread it out flat on the table. It felt like a thick, soft parchment and had a lot of writing on it in a foreign language. Angled, dark pen marks stood out boldly from the page. I guessed it was in Hebrew. "Fitting."
Russell came up to the table. I saw the hair on his back slowly rise. His nose was soaking up the air. "Hey, what's the matter, fellah?" I patted his head. He turned away, walked a few paces, turned again and sat looking at me. His one blue eye and one gray looked concerned. "What?"
I heard a quiet squeal as he left the room, making his way back to the hearth.
The page was staring at me. "What is this?" It looks very official. I set my mind to heating up leftovers that went down heavy with a cup of coffee.
Click on this: next column
The living room was set in silver from the light streaming in the windows on either side of the front door. I turned off the kitchen light and decide to spend the night sitting next to the fire in my easy chair. I looked up at the shotgun over the mantel. "Weird night." I pulled the curtains all the way open before flopping in the chair. I was going to keep an eye out.
Some time in the wee hours, I woke with a jerk. Russell let out a low growl. Clearing my eyes I saw that light again come down and touch the ground in front of my truck. This time the image of a very large angel appeared. It must have been seven feet tall. "What the hell?"
It picked up the ring from the ground and then looked right at me through the window. I felt naked and uneasy. "This has got to be a dream."
Russell went into the bedroom and disappeared. "Chicken." I muttered in a shaking voice.
The image moved to the door, bringing its light. The door opened. I couldn't move. The face, a transparent face, looked around and saw the paper on the table. It pointed toward the paper and looked straight at me.
I slowly got up and fetched the page and reached out from a distance to give it to him. He touched the page and pulled his hand back, faded out into the yard and up into the air.
A gasp of air sucked into my lungs. I hadn't taken a breath during the whole experience. I looked at the page. It was now written in English.
My hand turned on a lamp as I fell back into my chair. I couldn't focus on the writing. I turned the page. The writing was in a different direction than before. I skimmed it, and then went back to the top of the page. It was difficult to read like it was from an ancient time. Was it Saxon? It seemed to be saying there has been a change to the balance of life. Good will toward man... something about a new convenient. I ran a finger under the words slowly.
"Tell your brothers that a great disappointment has been registered, felt, maybe happened. Jeez, this is gibberish." I looked up to see the night was clear. The moon was down and the dawn light was seeping in around the tall trees. A mist blew off the tree tops.
I turned back to the page. "Harsh times will come. Tell the leader about the quest. What quest? What the hell is this about?"
I went to the table, turned on the light over the table, carefully laid the page down, then went over and plugged in the coffee pot.
Once again staring at the writing, continued, "The warning is for a fortnight. You must follow these instructions." The rest looked like verses from the Bible, phrases, some numbers. It looked like a code or cipher.
"Well, this is just great. Who the hell is going to believe this?"
Russell came up and placed his chin on my knee. I sat there sipping coffee as the sun started to cut wedges on the living room floor.
(to be continued...)
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John is a writer in progress. Word by word the trail of communications gets clearer. Maybe someday the message will be picked up by a distant ear and the effort to be heard will have been reached. Until that day, the keyboard clatters endlessly into the night. |
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