Flash fiction for fickle folk.
Out of my left eye I see you waiting at the station. You’re on time, but the train is late, and you’re pacing. The seconds can’t tick by fast enough. There are places you need to be.
Out of my right eye I see him walking down the platform, with posture well rehearsed; an outer calm that belies inner worry. Be yourself but don’t get noticed. Can he get in to work and avoid balancing on the scales? Ma’at is hungry and Yahweh goads her on.
At first you think he’s attractive and your gaze quickens. But if something seems off, it is quickly forgotten as self-interest takes hold. Maybe he’ll notice how good you look if you stand just so. You’re a girl and he’s a boy so it’s only natural, right?
It’s a biting spring morning and you haven’t had enough coffee to deal with the others on the platform. Yahweh nestles into your soul and you wish, you long, to meet an angel. Something pure, devoid of the petty hang-ups and grievances of godless men.
The object of your attraction is looking up at the clouds, and his mind seems a million miles distant from the approaching train whistle. You get angered by a commuter brushing by, chewing loudly from a bag of greasy café food, and you start texting your friend. How rude some people are.
You almost miss the train, but the beautiful cloud-bound boy holds the door open, says, ‘Come on.’ You’re already bristly, and you notice it. His voice, too high in pitch. His clothes fitting slightly off, especially around the chest, his chin smooth and devoid of hair. He is far too old to be pre-puberty.
Words rise like soft, burning pumice. Unnatural. Disgusting. Liar. You were warned about people like him.
Your face starts to shift into brimstone as the crocodile god snaps him up on the scales, makes his heart heavier than a feather from your stony words.
Do you remember what you said to me when we both were young?
Today you met an angel. And you destroyed him.
Many thanks to MJ Kobernus for your editing help!