Stories tagged angel

Celluloid Angel

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To be a wonder girl she wears a wonder bra isn’t a bore bothering with how it cuts her up inside the fabric so tight it

Common Sense

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'Yer a cool, cool glass of water baby....'

Hitler's Angel (A Meta Christmas Carol)

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Christmas is here and there's work to do.

On High

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“Yes, well, this sometimes happens early,” Dr. Yartz said. “Before death, I mean. You understand.” Brian frowned and narrowed his eyes as the doctor bound the raw, red wounds at the base of his newly sprouted wings. At the moment they were…


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“Probably a fungus”, his wife said, “perhaps you should wash there more often.”

Street Traveler

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I travel the streets. I wear a red beret. I'm a Guardian Angel. I've seen a lot of shit in my 10 years: children pushed off rusty monkey bars and beaten with swing chains; cold rain falling angrily on blood polluted streets; women screaming on the subways and…

The Feather

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Though the earth was a rugged and unfriendly place compared to Heaven, the realm below the ground was immeasurably more so. It was there that all the pains and sorrows of mortal life were cooked and squeezed, boiling over onto the world above.

a mother speaks to a stone

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Who made your wings? Who draped your dress? Did you hold the granite heart when they engraved it, when they set my child’s picture there?

Imperfect Gifts

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With your belly filled with beer and your eyes squeezed in squint I'm almost magic almost enough dirty angel barred from broken jukebox heaven for you to believe in

She Arrives.

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This is my first lesson in my new home. The wastes of Dis. And my trainer, the Dark angel, allows me to remain in that small oasis of darkness for now. He sits with me and begins my education all over again. All the skills I’d learned are blanked from my

Golden Fields

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Such ferocity and violence had changed her. It had toughened her. When she’d arrived a year ago she’d been a corpse, shambling around and mutilated. Even the lightest touch had been an agony on nerves exposed. Now? Now she was a Power. A beast in her own

Marks in the Sand (Poetry-Rhythm)

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I am only ever What you seem to be Without the leverage Of sweet reality

Blue Glass Star

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“You see?” her mother broke the silence. “That top looks great on you. Such a gorgeous colour.” “It makes me look fat.” “But you are fat. The colour takes attention away from that.”

The Tattered

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The snake-like veins began to pulsate angrily, and viciously about his body. Quickly he rose up about the girl. His heart was now pounding rapidly against his chest. Outstretched, were his wings, the width of the balcony, white and decrepit and old, yet s

Strange and Silent Hands

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I shuddered. This is how we are chosen by strange and silent hands.