Angels Fell

1

On the Day the Angels Fell Chelsea Panameño

On the day the angels fell, there was nothing but ash-colored clouds and the after-scent of rain and rust, like the taste of blood when you bite your cheek, like a summer storm. The wind blew westward, and the trees shook with it. The workers kept the tunnels going, and the children harvested leftover rainwater in rubber boots and stained buckets. They would filter it out through buzzing, whirring machines, then give it back to the workers, who would then drink and drink and drink until the dryness of Sundays faded and the shaking hands of Fridays returned. There was always something in the water. But that’s why it worked. The first break in the clouds all day came in the form of their bodies. Two and four and six- winged forms, sharp claws and long toes and one or eight or sixteen eyes in places where eyes shouldn’t be. Mouths, too, and tongues that might as well be fire. As they fell, they shifted – feathers turned to hair (though many would never lose their ruffled touch), wings faded into skin or turned to extra limbs, eyes and mouths that shut so tight the lines were no longer visible. Their skin ranged paper-white and crinkled to bronzes sealed with a reddish glow, tamed by fires (did they come from them? They may never know). They fell in twos and threes. Some landed on the roofs of makeshift houses, though they did not break. Some landed in fields, in trees, some dropped into the ocean and were said to have drowned and became the fish-things that would come to bleed them dry in a later year to come. None came from tunnels, but then again nothing came from the tunnels except rock and soot. At least, not yet. The notangels came before the worm-people after all. Not a single was bruised or injured in the slightest way. Except for one. When they tried to speak, when the elders had been called and frayed whips and spears were dug up from the bottoms of family chests and the children held their buckets as if still waiting for the rain, they spoke in harsh sounds through cracked lips, none of the lilting musical voices from the stories. There were a few, black-eyed and almost trance-like in their recently fallen state. But it was off-key. They did not know where they came from. They did not know why they were there. The closest they came was the few who, for a time, could not speak a human tongue. Many

would learn. Others would be kept in the dark to preserve what the humans perceived as their culture, their heritage, a lost history that no one knew the answers to. One of them, a tiny runt of a thing, practically a child in form and mind as they’d later find out, with dangling limbs and six wings and nails, not claws, tipped with the same reddish hue of their lips, the only one with a bruise the same color as the sky on the back of their right shoulder, spoke a single phrase before forgetting altogether: “Someone pushed me,” they said. They blinked at the whips before them. “He pushed me.” And that was that. And the not-angels stayed. And the world spun on, and the tunnels kept going, and the rain kept falling. Until the day it didn’t.

2

The Greatest Grave

Terrell Lawson

I came back home because my father went mad. I never wanted to go back. I loved the city. My mother called and told me what dad had been doing, but she said none of my siblings had answered their calls. Of course they wouldn’t. Nobody wanted the responsibility. If I hadn’t been half asleep, if I had looked at the contact... I might’ve ignored it too. But that’s the past. Now it was time to get serious with them about a retirement home. I had a taxi drop me off at the ranch gate, my mother was standing there waiting to open up for me. “How long have you been out here?” I asked her. “It’s almost a hundred degrees out.” “Your father has been out here for days. Never stopping, never resting. He claims he was given a message from God. He’s lost his mind.” “Where is he?” I asked her. “In the goat pasture, behind the barn. I’m going to bring him something to drink, you want anything?” “No ma’am, I’m fine,” I said as I made my wait towards the barn. The barn was big and gray, with a tattered white roof that appeared to be decaying and falling apart. With every step I took the smell of manure and urine grew stronger, and I fondly remembered playing hide and seek with my siblings; my face five inches away from a sheep’s butt. “Dad?” I called out as I turned the corner. “Mom says you’ve been busy-” He was standing next to a massive rounded hole the size of a football field with three big digging machines nearby. “What the hell is this?!” He turned around and looked at me, drenched in sweat. His denim overalls were completely covered with dirt, and his red shirt looked nearly black from being soaking wet. “Douglas! The only one that answered the phone. I knew one of you boys would come through.” He tried to hug me and I stepped back. “Oh alright, don’t want to ruin your little button down.” He said and instead

offered his hand. I reluctantly shook it and he smiled. “Living in the city got y’all scared of dirt now, I can tell. How you been?” “I’m fine but what about you? What is this?” “This, my dear boy,” he said as he motioned towards the pit, “is a grave.” There was a moment of silence as I stared at him, trying to figure out what to say next. “A grave… for what? You planning on slaughtering our entire livestock?” “No, son.” he put his dirty hand on my shoulder. “A grave for a greater being. One you simply can’t imagine.” “Okay… but how much did those machines cost? We can’t afford this, dad.” He shook his head. “Don’t matter. This is my purpose. This is why I was made.” “You boys alright?” asked my mother, walking towards us with two glasses of water. “We’re fine Darling, I’m just taking a small break before I get back into it. I’m nearly there.” He took a glass and chugged it like a frat boy at a college party. “I wish you’d stop!” she snapped at him. “Do you know how much debt you’re putting us in?! “Charlotte, I’m telling you, this is God’s will! I will not stop my mission for no mortal! Think of the blessings we will receive!” “What in this world would God want you to bury?” “NOTHING!” he spat, getting extremely close to her face. “Cuz it ain’t from here.” “Marital Issues, Donnie?” said a voice from behind them. “I’ve been there.” Everyone turned to look at Edward McFarlane, a neighboring farmer, and competitor. He wore a similar getup to my dad’s but cleaner, with a blue flannel instead of red. He took off his sunglasses and gazed at my father’s exhibition. “By god, Miller. You don’t have to kill all your animals. I’ll take them off your hands for a good price.” “Mind your damn business Ed. This ain’t got nothing to do with you.” “Oh, but it does Donnie. See, the bank called me about you, and you ain’t gonna like what they said.” Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go inside and let them talk.” We walked to the house and stood in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you call us sooner?” I asked her. “I called Franklin and Robert, but they didn’t answer. When I called Allison, she told me to let him do it.” “What?!” I demanded, stunned. “Why would she say that?’ “The farm is losing money too fast. I can’t do it by myself, and with him going off the wall like this… Allison’s picking me up tomorrow. We need you to take care of him.”

“Take care? I can’t run this farm!” I protested. “We’re not asking that. You’re going to sell the farm and put him in a retirement home.” “How am I supposed to get Dad to agree to that?” I asked her. “He doesn’t care about the farm anymore,” she told me. “Just stay until he finally completes whatever he’s trying to do. It shouldn’t take more than a day now. Then you can convince him to sell the farm.” I thought about it and grabbed the glass of water. “Let’s go check up on them,” I told her. As soon as we opened the door, we could hear shouting in the distance. I ran as fast as I could to the scene, where my dad and Edward were arguing and pushing each other awfully close to the huge pit. “STOP!” I shouted. “Get away from the edge!” Just as I got close enough to break up the fight, one of our sheep came out of nowhere and headbutted Edward’s leg, almost knocking him over the side. I quickly grabbed his overalls and pulled him back, his face as red as a tomato. Once he got his balance, he ungratefully pushed me away, his chest heaving. “You… you…” he looked from me to my father, to the sheep. “Son of a-” “Get off my land, Ed,” My dad demanded. “I ain’t gonna say it again.” They stared at each other intensely while I pulled back the sheep, whose name tag said Cleveland. “Just keep the noise down,” Ed replied as he dusted himself off. “It spooks my animals.” Later that night, I laid awake staring at the ceiling. My room was just as I had left it when I graduated high school: empty except for two beds, mine and Franklin’s. I suddenly regretted throwing away all of our childhood toys, because I had nothing to come back to. Just a vacant room with empty sheets. I wonder how it felt for them to lose all their children to the city. Mom seemed fine, but Dad… Every few hours I would go outside to check on him, and he would tell me the same thing; “Oh, I got it now boy. It’s almost done. This is my Ark. And I did it by myself. I’ll come to get you when it’s done.” I checked my watch. 2:58 am. I was used to staying up this late, but never for something so boring. Just as I began to drift off, I heard several animals running around outside, squeaking and bleating like they were being attacked. I looked out the window but it was clouded by a dense fog outside. I could just barely see the shapes of several moving animals. I slipped on my shoes and jacket and rushed outside to see a full stampede of dozens of animals running behind the barn, some as small as baby chicks, others as large as horses. Never in my entire life had I seen this many animals on our farm; there was no way these were ours. I quickly and carefully made my way through without stomping a chick to death and found my father in a fistfight with Edward, who was in his nightclothes.

“You stole my animals, you crazy hick!” Ed shouted, trying to wrestle my father to the ground. He pushed Ed off him with enough force to send him sprawling back, crashing into the excavator. “I ain’t steal nothing!” said my father, panting. He caught his breath as Edward got to his feet, rubbing his bald head. “God brought them here, so they could all bear witness-” All my breath left my body as Edward picked up and shovel and smacked my dad across his face, knocking him over the edge. ‘‘NO!” Edward looked at me in shock as all the animals went silent and gathered around the edges of the pit. He dropped the shovel and raised his hands, but I was already running. “He came at me first, you gotta understand-” No. “It was self-defense. I had no choice-” NO. “He had it coming, I swear! He’s lost his mind!” NO! I tackled him as hard as I could, knocking the air out his chest. I screamed like a maniac as I swung, left-right, left-right, until my fists were sore and aching, covered in his blood. I wiped my hands off in the dew from the grass and struggled to calm down. Looking at the sky, it was completely gray and lighter than it would be at this time. I looked at my watch. 3:02 am. I couldn’t wake my mom up and tell her what happened. I couldn’t go to sleep either. I didn’t know what to do. DUMP HIM. I held my breath and looked around, though I could still hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. There’s no way I actually heard someone, some thing, call out to me. DUMP HIM. It said again. RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR FATHER. I looked towards the pit and was shocked to see the animals staring at me. All of them. Staring with such intensity that it felt like there was some sort of intelligence behind it, like they were waiting for me to make the next move. I stood up slowly and they parted, allowing me to reach the edge of the pit. I peered over and saw my father, sprawled on his back with his eyes wide open, a half-smile on his face. The ladder he used to get that low lay next to him, completely unreachable from where I stood. I grabbed Edward’s body and dragged him to the edge of the pit, positioning him carefully so he wouldn’t land on my dad. The moment I threw him over all the animals bleated, chirped, squawked, neighed and squealed in unison, and thunder boomed overhead as lightning streaked across the sky.

I knelt down as rain began to pour and said a few prayers for my father. The rain and my tears began to mix and before I knew it, I was completely soaked from head to toe. I glanced at my watch. 3:26 am. It was time to go inside. The rain stopped around me and I got to my feet, my surroundings much brighter now because of the storm. I took two steps forward and stopped. It was still raining. I could still hear it. I could still see it a few feet in front of me. But I wasn’t getting wet. I looked up to see a massive gray figure falling from a blinding light in the sky, something so huge and inconceivable I would’ve been crushed by its feet had a sheep not knocked me out of the way. The creature’s feet hit the edge of the pit but still slid down because of the mud. The rain returned to this area as I got a full look at the creature. Humanoid. Faceless. Nude. Its grayed skin looked smooth and its body took the fetal position as it covered up both my dad’s and Edward’s bodies. My father wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t insane. Tears came down my face and I smiled, picking up a shovel.

3

Coffee Confessions

Josey Chumney

“I should’ve known. Should’ve listened to my mother when she said men were pigs.” Cynthia Morgan explained to her best friend over a cold brew. “She always said all men were bad but men with mustaches were the worst. Reminded her of Hitler, you know?” Was it a fern climbing or a swan swimming in my cup? I looked away from my cappuccino “art” to give the anticipated reply. She seemed appeased and continued with her rant. “But, seriously, how am I supposed to stay protected from men? It’s not like I’m gay. I’m a woman with needs. Needs only a beef cake can supply, you know? And Sean, he wasn’t even my typical hunky-monkey. This guy was a bean pole with a nice ass who listened to jazz. JAZZ, Mel.” While I gave the obligatory chuckle, Cynthia used this time to hastily take a swig from her brew and check her purple lipstick in the mirror across the room. “Anyway, I can’t believe this guy would ever cheat on me. I am waaaaay out of his league and everyone knows it. Sure, he’s sensitive and all but really, that’s about it. He’s got no fighting spirit. No fire. I feel sorry for that poor tramp who’s keeping his bed warm now.” This comment dragged me away from my cappuccino musings and brought my attention to Cynthia, annoyance rising. “Then why did you date him for seven months?” Cynthia’s eyebrows rose at the sound of my inquiry, surprised that I decided to offer something to the conversation. And furthermore, surprised that it was some sort of slight against her. “Why did I date him for seven months?” Her voice sounded breathy and unsure. “Yes.” “Well, that’s a silly question isn’t it?” Her light laugh filtered across the coffee shop, blending in with the chaotic sounds of the Monday rush. “Obviously, we were in love.” Cynthia took another swig of her liquid strength and began to tear her scone into bite size pieces.

“You know, you never asked how I knew Sean was cheating on me.” Her eyes were focused on her handiwork. Thankfully, not on me. “How did you know?” Eyes still averted, “I found some suspicious texts.” My heart began to quicken. “Suspicious?” “Yes.” Her fingers finished tearing the scone into pieces and began mashing the pieces into a crumby mess with more force than necessary. “Damnable, even.” Sweat began to form on my upper lip and I brought my cappuccino up to hide it. “Damnable? That’s a little dark, even for you, Cynth.” I tried to keep my laugh level but I don’t think she bought it. Cynthia’s eyes rose to mine. “Maybe so, but they were damnable, weren’t they Melanie?” “How – how would I know?” Cynthia rose with her half-finished cold brew and plate filled with crumbs in hand. “Mel, Mel, Mel.” She condescendingly smiled. “Sweetie, I thought you were the smart one.” And with that, Cynthia dumped her brew and crumbs onto my freshly flatironed tresses and strolled out of the shop.