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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Creatures & Monsters
- Published: 10/29/2020
Author's Note: This is me continuing to try and Master the Flash Fiction technique. I had fun.
*****
He knew he shouldn’t have said it. Heck, he shouldn’t have even stepped in. It wasn’t his business. But he did. It looked like the last thing he would ever say.
“Leave…her…alone.”
“Or what, you little punk?”
“I will fight you.”
Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Guffaws.
“You? What do you weigh? 135 pounds? You some kind of Karate nut? How in the heck do you think you are going to stop six foot three, two hundred and twenty pound me? Or my other two buddies here?”
(Jerking his thumb to point at two even bigger men. Men who qualified as Condominiums not humans.)
"I don’t care. You don’t hit women. And not with a closed fist.”
Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Guffaws.
“She’s my wife. I can do anything I want. Can’t I Babe?”
The young woman couldn’t be more than twenty. If she was his wife, they hadn’t been married long. Long enough for her to look up through her one good eye, the other eye swollen shut. And mumble:
“Asshole.”
The big guys eyes flashed. His fist curled.
“Wrong answer.”
Before the small man, barely five foot five, one hundred thirty five pounds- could even move to try and at least take the blow meant for the woman, a blur blocked his view.
He heard a bone crack. Then another. A scream, and another sound of big bones cracking. Like legs, or shins. The blur came to rest. It was a man. Or looked like one. It had wings that were pure black. They were all tucked in near his shoulder blades, the two arcs at the top of the wings made a frame for the Man's (or whatever) head. The black wings tapered down to a point just above the Man’s (or whatever) ankles. He didn’t have any shoes. And his feet weren’t touching the ground.
The Man (or whatever) reached down to help the young woman up. Her one good eye was as wide as the little man’s eyes were. What were they looking at?
The Man with the Wings (or whatever he was) put one hand gently on the woman’s swollen cheek and eye. A moment later and her eye was fine. No pain. Even her makeup was back in place. The little man finally found his voice:
“Are you…are you…an…an Angel?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Angels had white wings and played harps.”
A big smile.
“I am not that kind of Angel.”
*****
A year later…
The little man was nervous this was his first wedding. And he was the Groom.
The young woman, her face as perfect as if she had never been hit, was not nervous. This was her second marriage. And this time she married a Man.
Let the guests wonder why she was all in Black. So was the little man. On the top of the Wedding Cake was not a wax couple…no…it was a small Angel with Black Wings.
And it was winking at them.
Bad Angel.(Kevin Hughes)
Author's Note: This is me continuing to try and Master the Flash Fiction technique. I had fun.
*****
He knew he shouldn’t have said it. Heck, he shouldn’t have even stepped in. It wasn’t his business. But he did. It looked like the last thing he would ever say.
“Leave…her…alone.”
“Or what, you little punk?”
“I will fight you.”
Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Guffaws.
“You? What do you weigh? 135 pounds? You some kind of Karate nut? How in the heck do you think you are going to stop six foot three, two hundred and twenty pound me? Or my other two buddies here?”
(Jerking his thumb to point at two even bigger men. Men who qualified as Condominiums not humans.)
"I don’t care. You don’t hit women. And not with a closed fist.”
Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Guffaws.
“She’s my wife. I can do anything I want. Can’t I Babe?”
The young woman couldn’t be more than twenty. If she was his wife, they hadn’t been married long. Long enough for her to look up through her one good eye, the other eye swollen shut. And mumble:
“Asshole.”
The big guys eyes flashed. His fist curled.
“Wrong answer.”
Before the small man, barely five foot five, one hundred thirty five pounds- could even move to try and at least take the blow meant for the woman, a blur blocked his view.
He heard a bone crack. Then another. A scream, and another sound of big bones cracking. Like legs, or shins. The blur came to rest. It was a man. Or looked like one. It had wings that were pure black. They were all tucked in near his shoulder blades, the two arcs at the top of the wings made a frame for the Man's (or whatever) head. The black wings tapered down to a point just above the Man’s (or whatever) ankles. He didn’t have any shoes. And his feet weren’t touching the ground.
The Man (or whatever) reached down to help the young woman up. Her one good eye was as wide as the little man’s eyes were. What were they looking at?
The Man with the Wings (or whatever he was) put one hand gently on the woman’s swollen cheek and eye. A moment later and her eye was fine. No pain. Even her makeup was back in place. The little man finally found his voice:
“Are you…are you…an…an Angel?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Angels had white wings and played harps.”
A big smile.
“I am not that kind of Angel.”
*****
A year later…
The little man was nervous this was his first wedding. And he was the Groom.
The young woman, her face as perfect as if she had never been hit, was not nervous. This was her second marriage. And this time she married a Man.
Let the guests wonder why she was all in Black. So was the little man. On the top of the Wedding Cake was not a wax couple…no…it was a small Angel with Black Wings.
And it was winking at them.
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Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
10/29/2020Wow, let me finish with. Karma came to bite the bad guy in the arse. :-)
I love happy endings :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
10/30/2020Thanks Gail,
I'm with you on that one...I love Happy Endings. Angles that kick arse would have a lot of work to do in Today's world. LOL. Smiles, Kevin
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