kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"Evolution.fnc"

words

George woke up knowing that something was wrong. The unease kept his eyes closed while he sorted through surroundings. The television was ringing the sod all bars--that must be what woke him up. The ringing in his ears was like a constant shrill cuss. Or the light outside--warm on his belly. What about his alarm? A faint buzz cutting in and out told him it was blinking. Bloody power bloody out. Bollocks it all! Pushing doubles for a week must have finally snapped him--catching a 'tilities hiccup on top of that meant his ass was red. Except--why'd no mates call? Surely somebody--Patrick, even--would have called to give him a proper chewing before setting him loose. Unless the power'd taken down the phones and they'd thought he was ignoring them. Didn't those run on jennies? Bollocks anyway, he wouldn't lose his job to one mistake. Not even on top of all the little shite going on--he worked hard, they knew that, and surely somebody must have covered for him. Maybe somebody else just needed the shift and mummed it.

But shit! That didn't mean he shouldn't call in.

He tried to open his eyes, but they weren't quite connected. Slowly, the room materialized as his mind adjusted--he could see, but not as normal. Things were shifted, strange--psychedelic.

He wondered--was he dead?

He hadn't imagined an angel would look like ball lightning in false color imaging.

But what does a mirror look like to an angel? Or a demon?

He flittered out the window with only a slight discomfort from the glass--he hadn't realized it was closed, only seen vague echoes. Perhaps he'd know.

He strained his vision, but the sky was uniform. Nobody moved. Nobody sang. Nobody home.