Only a few witnessed the ceiling of the church disappear and the angels descend, carrying a naked man. His eyes were squeezed shut.
...be a good father/Johnson’s pitching tonight/lay her down in the tall grass /teach him a lesson/have MetalGarurumon…he heard them all, pleading a cacophony in his mind.
The angels left him to the cross and he opened his eyes. They all saw him then. He looked to his left and saw the nail through his wrist. He looked to his right and saw the same. He screamed.
He knew only his name.
Matthew.
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Silence
I don’t remember the day the world ended. But I do remember the day I noticed. That photo was it, but I did not know what it meant until I sat in my darkened bathroom, staring at the newly developed film. The street was neither empty, nor abandoned. It was dead. The colours of the flowers wrapped in that red ribbon caught my eye, and as I crouched to take that photo, I could hear only the lonely silence of a graveyard after dark.
By Alexander McEvoy6 days ago in Fiction
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