Friday, May 27, 2011


Jana says the soulless were Angels once, the template for all of us gone terribly wrong.

I asked how He could make such a mistake. The priest slapped me so hard I slammed into a pillar. After a day on my knees where the terrible things happen, I didn’t ask again.

Mama cried because my beauty had been spoiled and penance had made me worthless.

Headaches came, like spikes in my brain, every time I passed the church.

I prayed, and Angels came to paint the cathedral red. I sprinkled them with water, blessing their recycled souls.

No one kneels anymore.

No comments:

Post a Comment